Ginny took a deep drag on the cig and studied the paper in her hands. She exhaled through her nose, the smoke billowing out to curl around the words of the memo. She would never understand why Albert couldn't just send her an email like everyone else in the damn building. No, he had to have hard copies of every blasted thing he wanted to send her.
Ginny leaned forward, annoyance trickling onto her expression as she continued to read the memo. She took another drag on her cig and held it out, over her shoulder to tap off the ashes.
"Sorry," she muttered, not turning.
Michael Jensen brushed at the ashes on his pinstriped green and black shirt. "Watch where you're swinging that thing, Ginny."
Ginny rolled her eyes. "Not now, Michael."
"Ginny, you really should quit those."
"I said," Ginny snapped, spinning in her chair to glare malevolently at Michael. "Not fucking now."
Michael blanched. Ginny's temper was well known around the news room. It made her a great editor. Everyone got their work in on time and never made the same mistake twice. However, it also drove a wedge between her and her employees.
Everyone was terrified of disappointing Ginny which meant everything got done. Except the work Albert had to do. Albert Schwine was the president of The Witching Hour. He only really had one job, and that was to manage the employees. He decided who to hire, who to fire, who got a raise, who got a promotion and of course, signed the paychecks.
He assured Ginny she was indispensible and when drunk he was known to mistake everyone else for Ginny and rant about how he would give her a raise. Albert had been promising raises to Ginny for eight years. She didn't care how much he was paying her (which was already more than she could spend in eight lifetimes). She cared if he got everything done in time and hired people who could actually do the jobs he hired them for.
Michael held up his hands in supplication. "Sorry, Ginny. I was just wondering if you'd approved the story on your brother."
Ginny tapped out the ashes of her cig into the wastebasket. "I told you, Michael, I'm not the one who will be approving it. Conflict of interest and all. I looked over it but Janice has the final say."
Michael stared at her blankly and she sighed. She put the cig between her teeth and turned to her computer. She quickly typed an IM to Janice and printed a copy of the story in question from her database then handed it to Michael.
"Take this to Janice. She'll know what to do."
Ginny turned in her chair, watching him leave. Poor kid.
She shook her head. There was nothing she could do about his incompetence but Albert was really starting to get on her nerves.
Draco sneered at his date. She failed to notice. Typical.
He had to wonder and worry (just a little) about the mental capabilities of the girls he dated. At least at Hogwarts the girls had had to be marginally intelligent. No, Veronica (or was it Victoria? They all blended together) was stupid. She hadn't made it into Hogwarts but rather had gone to a smaller school outside of Prague.
Stupid inbreeding, he thought. Keep messing around in the same gene pool and you were bound to have stupid broads like this one.
"I need someone smart," he muttered.
"What did you say?" she asked.
"Nothing," he muttered back, focusing on the menu again.
I need someone smart, I need someone smart, I need someone smart.
(A/N: So this story got deleted. :( apparently you can't put the word bitch in your story summary. Ah, well. I'll post a chapter of this a week until we're caught up.