She laughed at him. What an absurd thing to say. She laughed and gave him a dismissive wave. His face turned into a storm cloud, which caused her to laugh even harder.
“Listen, dude. Fuck off.” She firmly stated. “I don’t need to ask your permission to exist.”
She turned away before he could respond. She knew it was a risk, but one she needed to take. If she didn’t, things would continue to escalate. This was a type of escalation, but she needed to get out. To get away from him. He was one of those dangerous men that claimed to be nice guys, but were women haters. He’d claim to be a victim, but he was the abuser here.
She felt movement behind her. She turned just in time to avoid his grasping hand. Hr bicep mere centimeters from his finger tips. She noticed his T-Shirt was gone, now he was wearing a fine blue suit, with his hair parted down the center, rather than the side.
She noted this as she let her spin throw her fist forward, directly into his right eye. He staggered back, cursing her. He looked up at her, murder in his eyes, as blood poured from his nose.
She found herself striding towards a receptionist in a well lit corporate office’s foyer. There was natural like spilling in from the gigantic floor to ceiling glass walls. She could see her looming shadow on the pristine white marble.
“Good morning, I’m here for an interview with Margret McKinney.” She greeted the Receptionist.
“Ms. Richardson?” The faceless receptionist replied.
“That’s me.”
Ms. Richardson was being led into a conference room by a young black woman, Sara. She was wearing some earrings Ms. Richardson had been thinking of buying. They looked great in person like this.
She sat down and made small talk with the woman. Shortly after greeting. He walked in. He had a black eye. His right eye was blackened. The bruising extended down to his nose. There was dried blood on his upper lip.
He gave her an overly warm smile. “Ms. Richardson, such a pleasure to meet you. I’ve heard so much from Sara”, he indicated the young black woman, “about you.” He was wearing a Blue Suit. His hair was parted in the center.
She glanced at Margret, “Did he tell you how he got that black eye? He stalked me last night and tried to sexually assault me.” She raised her right hand, her knuckles were cut and bruised.
Margret grabbed his arm. They left the room. Sara came in moments later. “It appears we have a VP position opening up soon that we think you’re qualified for, bear with us as we get some other folks to interview you.”
Ms. Richardson smiled and nodded in response to Sara.
Moments later she walked out with Sara to a different conference room. The man in the blue suit was being man-handled into the back of a police car. As he was pushed into the car, she noticed that his T-Shirt was rumpled and bloody. His jeans torn.
Nikole started out of bed. She grabbed her cell phone. There he was. Bloody. Jeans ripped. She flipped to Linked In. There he was. Blue suited, center part. VP of Marketing.
She took a long shower. She smiled to herself.
She was sitting talking with Susan, waiting for Him to join. Susan was a polite woman from HR, typical type of interviewer. She was to help shepherd her through the interview process.
He finally showed up. 10 minutes late. His eye was noticeably bruised. He had a scrape on his face. She glanced down at her knuckles.
“So, it was you.” Nikole turned to Susan, “Susan, do you know why he has that bruise on his face?”
Bloody murder flashed on his face. But she’d seen it before. She smiled at him as she explained to Susan what happened.