Chapter 4

"Come on, Alex, don't be like that! We're colleagues! What's the big deal with letting me use your place for a day? I won't mess it up! I'll even give you $15 for your trouble. How's that?"

Alex was bright red, muttering, "Kevin, it's not about the money! We just finished renovating! I haven't even slept there myself yet!"

Kevin rolled his eyes, snapping, "God, you're so cheap. It's just an apartment. What's it made of? Solid gold?"

I had heard enough. I walked over and cut in, "Kevin, are you aware that forcing your way into someone's home after they've said no is called breaking and entering? What part of 'no' are you struggling with?"

He whirled on me. "Leah, mind your own business! This is between me and Alex!" he shouted.

"It just became my business," I said, pulling out my phone and opening my notes app. "Just so we're all clear, the law is pretty specific about private property rights. It means it's his property. He can do what he wants with it."

I looked him dead in the eye, sneering, "Let me translate that into words you can understand. It's his house. If he wants to lend it to you, great. If he doesn't, you don't get to throw a tantrum."

Alex, emboldened, spoke up, "Yeah! Why should I let you use it?"

Kevin was still trying, arguing, "I just want to take a few pictures! That's it!"

"You still need permission for pictures," I said, not backing down. "Besides, Alex's mortgage on that place is about $4,000 a month. You think your fifteen dollars even covers the cost of disinfecting the place after you leave?"

A few coworkers who had gathered to watch the drama unfold started laughing.

One of the ladies from marketing jumped in, "Seriously, Kevin, what's fifteen dollars going to buy? A single bottle of Windex?

"A friend of mine lent her new house to a relative for a wedding. They left grease stains all over her new white sofa and scratched the hardwood floors.

"When she asked them to pay for the damages, they ghosted her. She had to take them to court!"

Alex's face went pale as he yelled, "Oh my god, really? Okay, no. Definitely not. The answer is no."

When Kevin saw he had no allies, his face turned a furious shade of crimson. He pointed a trembling finger at me. "You! You're doing this on purpose! You just can't stand to see anyone else be happy!" he growled.

"I can't stand to see you bully people," I shot back. "If you want fancy wedding pictures, go earn enough money to buy your own damn mansion. Stop trying to leech off your coworkers."

He was so enraged that he just spun on his heel, pulled out his phone, and left the department's group chat.

The 'Kevin has left the chat' notification popped up. The chat was silent for a beat. Then, a single "Hallelujah!" sticker appeared, and the floodgates opened.

Alex rushed over, exclaiming, "Leah, thank you so much. I honestly didn't know how to get him to stop."

"Don't thank me," I said. "With people like him, you just have to be tougher and louder. It's the only language they speak."

Having failed to secure a wedding venue, Kevin, with the persistence of a cockroach, moved on to the wedding cars.

He had only managed to scrape together three or four cars from the office, a far cry from the ten-car motorcade he had envisioned. He was getting desperate.

On Friday, I was packing up when I saw him lurking outside the administration office, peeking in the door like a raccoon about to raid a trash can.

He was clutching a set of keys. I recognized them instantly: the keys to the company's executive Buick Enclave, a top-of-the-line model worth over $300,000, usually kept locked in the admin cabinet for VIP client pickups.

A cold dread washed over me. This guy couldn't possibly be planning something that stupid, could he?

Not wasting a second, I pulled out my phone and hit record. Even from a distance, while his face was just a blur, the video clearly captured his silhouette and the unmistakable glint of the car keys in his fist.

I immediately sent the video to Sarah Fields, the head of administration, typing: [Hey, are the keys to the Buick locked up? Just saw Kevin hovering around your office, and it looked like he had them in his hand.]

Her reply was instantaneous: [WTF? I'm on my way!]

Less than ten minutes later, a notification blasted through the company-wide group chat. It was from Sarah.

Sarah: [Effective immediately, all company vehicle keys will be stored in a secure lockbox accessible only by authorized personnel. Unauthorized removal or use of company vehicles is strictly prohibited. Violators will face severe disciplinary action, up to and including immediate termination and legal prosecution.]

Attached to the message was a screenshot from a security camera. The face was blurred out, but the build and the clothes were unmistakably Kevin, caught red-handed, on his tiptoes, reaching into the admin cabinet.

I was cackling at my desk when the chat exploded again.

Kevin, with unbelievable nerve, typed: [Some people just live to ruin other people's fun. It's just a car. It's not like I was going to steal it.]

Cameron immediately tagged him, replying: [Kevin! Company policy is crystal clear. That vehicle is for client use only. What, exactly, did you think you were doing?]

Kevin: [I was just going to use it for my wedding! I would have brought it back! It's just sitting there anyway. We should be making the most of company assets!]

I couldn't resist and argued: [With that kind of logic, Kevin, why not share your bank account password so we can all 'make the most of your assets'?]

The chat erupted in laughter. Someone added: [Yeah, the company car is for picking up clients, not your bride.]

Kevin went silent. Cameron must be giving him a piece of his mind in a private chat.

The next morning, Kevin was slumped at his desk, looking utterly defeated. Brian leaned over and whispered, "Sarah from admin dragged Kevin into her office last night.

"I heard she yelled at him for thirty minutes straight and told him if he ever touched those keys again, she'd have him arrested for attempted grand theft auto."

"Good," I said, taking a sip of my morning coffee. "Maybe now he'll understand that 'company property' doesn't mean 'his property'."

Just then, Kevin looked up and shot me a death glare.

I raised my coffee cup in a mock toast. "Morning, Kevin. Want some? You should really cool your jets. Don't want to have a stroke before the big day, do you?"

He just scoffed and whipped his head away.

I had to stifle a laugh. If he cracked that easily, he was delusional to think he could ever go toe-to-toe with me. The guy was a total amateur.