Queenie's Upset.

I had thought she wanted the best for me. She was the one everyone coveted. My phone rang endlessly for days with colleagues gushing, wanting to know the secret in landing such a plum prize. Here I was, fresh out of graduate school - a new job in a thriving firm, great prospects, itching to make my mark, the sky my limits and now understudying one of the best in the industry.

We met quite by chance in the hallway. Serendipity, it seemed at the time. The lady striding purposefully towards the elevator was clad in an exquisite Armani, her confidence radiating like a beacon. She struggled with an enormous sheaf of papers. A sixth sense kicked in as I moved in her direction. I had always made a practice of looking sharp myself. She must have approved of the view and accepted my help. 

It so happened that Lady Confidence was indeed a guru. We became inseparable. Her subordinates often enquired from me as to her itinerary. Unsurprisingly, time spent in her company paid off. All the invaluable advice and insider information fueled my meteoric rise. Things moved along rather nicely. There were accolades in the company pages, widespread industry recognition, the accompanying salary raises, bonuses and perks. Life was good. 

True, there were vague feelings of discomfort that sometimes arose unbidden. I willed away the occasional veiled comments and sudden outbursts followed by outlandish favours. Queenie's eccentric personality was well known, her vitriolic temper legendary. Surviving these brought me great respect. Other division heads vied for me but my sights were set on greater glories ahead. 

I had few trusted friends, one of whom was Frank. A doddering, wizened attendant who though had been there forever, was overlooked by most. I had however noted the intelligence and keenness in his watery grey eyes. He was flattered by the attention and took me under his wing, providing invaluable insights on the firm's bigshots. He never mentioned Queenie much though once, during our occasional private teas, he made an oblique statement about Pandora. This struck me as a bit of an oddball. I kept this tidbit tucked away and mulled over it from time to time.

Ironically my consecutive successes exposed hidden tensions, magnifying hairline cracks erstwhile hidden from public view. Apparently, top management had long tired of Queenie and were thinking of consigning her to the boondocks. I was being considered to fill the vacuum. If Queenie knew such grand schemes were afoot she gave no indication. I had observed Queenie's adeptness and sheer cunning while under her tutelage and wondered how this would pan out. A period of walking the tightrope thus ensued for me. 

As it turned out, all that worry was needless. A bigger game was to unfold. Without warning, the defining day that shook the entire firm to its core came suddenly much like lightening flashes through the sky. The news broke that a little regarded industry rival bought over a significant majority of the company's shares. Shockwaves reverberated in the firm and beyond. Effectively it had been a hostile takeover, only this time from within and with the devastation only an insider can accomplish.

You see, unknown to us, Queenie was the boss' half -sister, born out of wedlock. Their father had treated her mother very shamefully and refused to acknowledge her. She had tracked the family down, slipped through the cracks and joined the firm, her ultimate goal it's downfall. Her sheer determination and inherited talent for the business stood her in good stead. Rising steadily to the top, her professional reputation was firmly established as well. She had the foresight to be extremely discreet about her personal life. No one was quite sure about her family history. There were sketchy rumours of adoption but nothing concrete. Perhaps the elder McIntyre suspected something or wasn't quite comfortable. At any rate, though seemingly part of the caucus, she had been kept on the periphery.

When the huge profits were shared among her half -siblings and other fat cats she looked away, her rage carefully concealed beneath a cool detachment. Stealthily she became a master at the workings of the company, knowing it inside and out. If she saw a promising star she brought them close, luring them into her fold through skillful maneuvering on her part. We were her foot soldiers, unwittingly gathering dossiers on her would-be rivals, accessing offices and information she was excluded from.

I particularly was a good foil for her subterfuges. My earnest ways and good nature made even the most cautious let down their guard. It was she who fuelled the water cooler gossip about her redundancy, hoping to smoke out hidden enemies. This took the scent off her true agenda. She strung me along like a skilled puppeteer until the last minute when she sold out the firm, leaving with destruction in her wake.

Needless to say, that day passed in a blur. Various echelons of staff huddled together in groups discussing in hushed voices the fallout from the takeover. There was much talk about the company's books. Heads were rolling and those who once thought themselves secure were seen making frantic calls. The vultures circled about, ready to feast on whatever was left of the carnage.

Driving home later after a horrific day, I mentally retraced the events of the past year looking for clues, for any kind of warning. There wasn't much to go on. Sinking down in my newly acquired leather sofa, I felt gutted and unable to process. A sense of complicity lingered and refused to be shaken off. My emotions ran the gamut from betrayal to anger at having been manipulated and finally, plain shock. Fluffy meowed about my feet, giving me disapproving glares, wondering why supper was late. I stared back disconsolately, any previous euphoria over my company standing now surely evaporated. 

My greatest ally had been a festering pool of sores. I recalled old Frank's statement about Pandora's box and wondered if we were only just tittering at the edge of the black hole threatening to suck us all in.