Although this wasn't her first office position, it was the first time that she would have her own office. The few times that she'd worked in offices before she'd either been a secretary or worked as general office staff sharing space with about twenty other people. She'd been too afraid to try for anything higher, because her credentials weren't exactly on the up and up.
Since she’d been thrown out of her Pack when she was fourteen, the only Pack help she had came from her cousin Mick, who wasn't much help since all his jobs over the years involved using his muscle. She'd been so afraid of exposure that she'd kept her head down and tried to fit in the background, going unnoticed.
About five years ago that all changed when another one of her bosses, once again, grabbed her ass and whispered a lewd proposition in her ear that would guarantee her an extra dollar-fifty an hour. It wasn't the first time that one of her bosses had grabbed her ass over the years, but that day she’d decided it would be the last time that she ever let it happen again. She’d refused to spend her immortality being groped by jerks just for the opportunity to barely make it from paycheck to paycheck. So, she did what any self-respecting shifter would do.
She’d paid another shifter a hefty sum to forge some kick ass credentials for her. That helped open a lot more doors for her. She took an entry-level job with Jacobson Specialists, a professional business advisement company as a junior associate. She learned the ropes of how to help businesses cut costs, filter their employees and improve their operations at half the cost.
The past five years had been grueling, but they were well worth it, because now she had her very own corner office, her own staff, a livable salary and no more bosses trying to bend her over their desks to pass the time until they had to go home to their wives. The only time that she had to go out into the field now was on a supervisory level or to deal with the unhappy owners who used to make her life a living hell with their constant whining and twenty-four/seven phone calls when her staff fucked up. Now she just had to sit her ass in a plush office, go over paperwork and send her minions out into hell on her behalf.
Could her life get any better? First a promotion and then she’d basically neutered Drew, doing all female kind a favor. No, life truly could not get any better than this.
Before she reached Mr. Walters' secretary’s desk, she was gestured inside. She walked into the large office to find Mr. Walters, a man in his early fifties with jet-black dyed hair that gave him a somewhat creepy appeal, sitting behind a large marble desk, looking somewhat pained.
“Please have a seat, Miss Sands,” Mr. Walters gestured with a tight smile. Kara wasn't offended since she knew the man recently had Botox done. She was just surprised that he could smile at all.
“You wanted to see me, sir?” she asked pleasantly.
He folded his hands in front of him as he cleared his throat. “Yes, I'm afraid we have a problem,” he announced.
Had Tom filed a grievance over her promotion? It wouldn't surprise her.
“We've had a complaint,” he announced.
She bit back a sigh. Her first day on the job and already one of her employees had screwed up. It wasn't how she’d pictured her first day, but she'd handle it. She'd look over the problem and figure out how to solve it without getting whatever employee it was fi-
“Mr. McNeil?” Mary whispered nervously while she shifted anxiously from foot to foot in front of the table that he was doing his paperwork on.
Slowly, he looked up from his inventory list. When he didn't speak, she shifted again as she took a healthy step back. Smart girl. He was in absolutely no mood for any bullshit today.
Apparently, his staff had somehow picked up on his mood. Of course they may have figured out that he was pissed off when he’d slammed his fist through one of the tables¸ breaking it in half when Jeff, the bartender, informed him that there wasn't any fresh coffee left. Then again, it could just as easily have been the water spot incident or scuff mark on the dance floor. It was really hard to tell with these things.
“Angel and Diane didn't show up for work,” she announced, taking another healthy step back.
His jaw clenched as he turned his attention to the employee schedule in front of him. There were only ten waitresses scheduled to work tonight when there should have been at least fifteen waitresses scheduled to work. It was two nights before the full moon, which meant that he was about to have a full house of shifters looking to burn off some energy. It was the most profitable time of the month for his club and definitely not the time to be short-staffed.
Shifters weren't exactly known for their patience during the week leading up to the full moon. If he couldn't provide them with quick and reliable service to keep them calm and happy, they'd go somewhere else and he'd be stuck serving humans.
Not fucking happening.
This was the best shifter club in town and he was not about to let that change.
“Call in everyone who's off tonight,” he said, tossing the schedule to the side.
Drew slowly looked up at the frightened woman. “And?” he demanded quietly.
She gestured helplessly with her hands towards the employee break room. “I couldn't get anyone on the phone,” she mumbled pathetically, sounding close to tears.
“Well, call them again!” he snapped as his claws bit into the table.
She opened her mouth, probably to argue, but only managed to get out a whimper when he growled a warning, a warning that she knew better than to ignore.
“Y-yes, sir,” she whispered, turning and practically running to the break room for safety.
He looked down at the table and sighed. It looked as though they'd have to replace this table before tonight as well. With a small flick of his wrists, he tore his claws out of table, wincing when several pieces of wood came with them. Great. Just what he needed today.