Everything He Deserved

Tom breezed into the office eight minutes late, barely sparing a glance at the clock as he passed the reception area. There had been a time when arriving late would have bothered him. Appearances mattered, after all. Being seen at your desk first thing in the morning was far more important than actually doing any work, and Tom had always understood the distinction. It was all a system, a game with rules that most people were too stupid to recognize. He was confident he'd figured out how to play it.

After a quick stop in the break room to grab a coffee, he settled into his office chair and leaned back, enjoying the familiar creak as it tilted beneath him. Today was going to be easy. Yesterday had been chaotic, with that idiot Roy running around all morning trying to fix the network problems and keep the company functioning. Tom had recognized early on that the day was a write-off. There was no point in exhausting yourself trying to rescue something that was already broken. Better to sit back, let the people who cared about that sort of thing run themselves ragged, and try again tomorrow.

So that's what he'd done. While Roy rushed from one problem to the next, Tom had browsed social media, exchanged messages with friends, and generally enjoyed a relaxed day at the office. He'd occasionally glanced up to observe the commotion, but hadn't felt any obligation to get involved. None of it was his problem.

At the end of the day, Helen, one of the company's senior executives, had stopped by his desk and taken his laptop. She'd explained that an upgrade was coming for him the following morning and that she needed to repurpose his current machine. Tom hadn't objected. Why would he? He knew exactly what was happening.

Earlier, he'd seen Helen and Roy talking in Roy's office. It was two weeks until Roy's last day, the deadline Tom had given him. Two weeks to leave the company quietly or face the "evidence" Tom had supposedly assembled proving that Roy wasn't the goodie-two-shoes everyone thought he was. The evidence was entirely fabricated, of course. Every accusation, every document, every carefully arranged detail had been invented or manipulated to make Roy look like a dishonest, incompetent manager. But Roy didn't know that. And, more importantly, Roy had no backbone.

He'd folded exactly as Tom had predicted.

Seeing Roy talking to Helen yesterday had confirmed it. The man was giving his notice, and, just as Tom had instructed, recommending Tom for bigger and better things. There was no other explanation for Helen taking his laptop and promising him an upgrade. It was a down payment on a brighter future.

And he deserved it, too.

That fat loser, Roy, had been handed everything on a silver platter. It wasn't enough that he had all those girlfriends everyone kept talking about. Apparently, he needed to be in charge of an entire department as well, with Helen looking at him like he was the company's saviour every time he stumbled across a solution to one of their problems. Tom was every bit as hardworking and intelligent as Roy, and considerably better looking. He had no idea why everyone else couldn't see it.

Well, they'd see it soon enough.

Leaning back in his chair, Tom pulled out his phone and opened Instagram. His feed was carefully curated, an endless parade of young women posing in revealing clothes, showing off their figures, and making sure their followers knew exactly what they were looking at. He often thought Instagram should be called Instagirl, at least the way he'd set his account up. The cleverness of the name amused him, and he chuckled as he tapped the heart icon on a reel of a woman bending over to pick something up before glancing up at the camera. The pose was hardly subtle. She knew exactly how much cleavage she'd displayed, and she knew exactly what she was doing.

That was what women were perfect for.

Sure, they had jobs and contributed to society and all that, but any woman who didn't understand that she was also there to catch the attention of men like Tom was kidding herself. It was just how the world worked. Women could move into positions of power and be in charge of whatever they wanted, as long as they didn't forget that men still wanted to look at them. There was nothing contradictory about it. Tom had no problem with successful women, provided they remembered their place in the grand scheme of things.

Melissa understood that, more or less. She insisted that he call her his girlfriend, which was a little clingy, but he didn't mind indulging her. She was hot, no question about it. A bit of a ditz, perhaps, but hot as shit. Tom enjoyed having her around, and he especially enjoyed the reaction from his friends whenever he showed up somewhere with her on his arm. The looks of admiration, the occasional joke about how he'd managed to land someone like that, the unspoken envy. It all reinforced what he already knew about himself.

He could pull a girl like Melissa.

More importantly, he could pull other girls like Melissa. She wasn't some once-in-a-lifetime catch. She was one attractive woman in a world full of attractive women, and Tom liked knowing that he had options. Even when she was at home, waiting for him to call or text, he could be confident that he still had it. Any bar, any party, any night out offered another opportunity.

Last night had been a perfect example.

Melissa had been busy, which suited him just fine. He'd gone out with a couple of friends, had a few drinks, and ended up talking to a pretty brunette at the bar. She'd been wearing a tight black top and had laughed at practically everything he said. By closing time, they'd made their way back to her apartment. Tom hadn't bothered asking too many questions about her life, and she hadn't seemed particularly interested in his. They'd had a good time, and he'd left the next morning without exchanging much more than a casual goodbye. No drama, no promises, no complications.

He hadn't felt guilty about it. Melissa was his girlfriend, not his wife. Besides, he hadn't made any promises about being exclusive. If she wanted to pretend they were in some serious relationship, that was her business. He wasn't going to let a label get in the way of enjoying himself.

A notification appeared on his phone. Melissa had sent him a message, a little heart followed by a question about whether he'd had a good night. Tom smirked and typed back a quick, affectionate reply. There was no reason to upset her. She was fun to have around, and he had no intention of giving her up just because he'd had a little fun with someone else.

Besides, she was lucky to have him.

The new laptop hadn't arrived yet, but Tom wasn't concerned. He was getting paid whether he had a laptop or not. If the company wanted him to spend the morning drinking coffee and waiting for his shiny new machine, that was perfectly fine with him. Soon enough, he'd have an office of his own, a bigger title, and people reporting to him. He'd be the boss, and Roy would be unemployed and out of his life.

Tom took another sip of coffee and glanced around the office. A few employees were already settling into their work, their faces fixed on their monitors. Somewhere down the hall, a printer started up. The ordinary sounds of another workday carried on, completely unaware that things were about to change.

He pictured himself in Roy's office, sitting behind that desk, with the department answering to him. Maybe he'd get a better chair, too. He deserved one. He could already imagine the expressions on people's faces when they realized he'd been promoted. Some would be surprised, others jealous. A few might even question the decision, but they'd come around once they saw how things worked under his leadership.

And Roy? Roy could go wherever he wanted. Tom didn't care. The man had enjoyed his privileged position long enough. It was time somebody else got a turn.

Soon Tom would have everything he'd ever wanted.

Soon Tom would get everything he deserved.