A View To Die For: a short story

Morgan Connoly inhaled deeply. The feeling of the breeze on her face had a calming effect. There was a strange sweetness to the salty ocean air. Part of that was due to the bottle of champagne she’d almost finished and partly because she had succeeded. Morgan sat atop a cliff over looking the Pacific. Casually dressed in her comfiest jeans, rolled up to just below the knee and a loose cotton blouse that billowed slightly when the wind gusted.

She closed her eyes and slowly drew another long breath, her fiery red hair dancing lightly in the wind. She couldn’t remember the last time she felt so content. The empty bottle of champagne lying by her side, the last of it filling the flute she loosely held in one hand, resting on her knee. Normally not much of a drinker she felt justified in this heavy indulgence, after all she was celebrating. The last month had been a grind. She had never worked so hard in her life, but today it had all paid off.

She laughed a little to herself over how nervous she had been that morning. It was her big chance to stun all the senior members of the company and she didn’t disappoint. She absolutely killed at her presentation. She had left the board speechless. Morgan was especially proud of how blown away Evan had been; he was the one she most wanted to surprise.

Morgan thought back to when she was first hired. How everyone had told her she wouldn’t cut it. That the corporate world she was entering was a man’s world. That she wasn’t tough enough for it, that she couldn’t handle the cutthroat nature of the business. These types of things Morgan had heard her whole life and she was determined to prove her doubters wrong. It was a struggle.

Being the only female employee not working as a secretary or assistant Morgan had expected to be slightly resented, but she was totally unprepared for the abuse she received. The constant whistles and catcalls from the male department heads. The steady stream of lewd remarks and suggestions she’d be happier at home in the kitchen or on her back in the bedroom. At first she tried to convince herself they were intimidated by her presence and this was all some sort of hazing because she was new. Morgan believed once she showed that she belonged it would all ease up. So she worked hard and her work was top notch, outshining many of the longer serving male employees. But it only got worse.

The remarks only got dirtier with time and the abuse slowly crossed the line from verbal to physical. Suffering the occasional “accidental” collision resulting in a hand on the breast or a pat on the rear end after a meeting followed by a sarcastic “good job, sweet cheeks.” The problems reached their climax when Morgan started being late for meetings or missing them altogether, because she didn’t receive a memo or meeting times were changed at the last minute. This was the worst as it was her work that was now suffering, but she was determined. Morgan was tough. She could handle the taunts and slurs, she worked hard and late to catch up, she could cope with all that. What made it unbearable was all the while Evan watched and did nothing.

Evan was a senior vice-president and her college boyfriend and almost fiancé, Morgan would have accepted his proposal if it weren’t for his demand that she give up her “silly” career plans. He told her with his Dad’s connections he’d soon be making more than enough money, so she could stay home and take care of their children and not worry her pretty head with finance markets, mergers and acquisitions. When she told him she couldn’t live that life, that she had to work for herself and have a career, but loved him and wanted both – he left.

None of that mattered anymore, because after today she would never again suffer the merciless abuse of her co-workers. Her presentation was flawless, her execution perfect. Morgan raised her glass to toast herself. The setting sun giving the champagne the look of liquid fire and as she stared into the golden bubbles she noticed a strange flicker of blue and red.

“I thought they would have found me sooner.” She uttered. “It was awfully nice of them to wait for me to finish my champagne.”

Morgan slowly got to her feet, wobbling slightly due to the effects of the champagne. She turned to face the dozen police vehicles speeding towards her. She was impressed by how many they sent for her.

“Maybe they thought I had help.” She mused. “I guess they didn’t believe one little woman could murder a boardroom full of men by herself.”

Morgan raised her glass in salute to the large group of officers now facing her, guns drawn. Draining the last of her glass Morgan held her arms wide, her blouse fluttering in the wind, her hair swirling about her head. Morgan let the glass slip gently from her hand as she took three steady steps backwards, which was one too many.