Heads will R O L L /jamie

[MAGGIE SINCLAIRE]

LONG LIVE THE BLOODY QUEEN!

Maggie Sinclaire was not the ideal boss. Oh, she paid generously. But it soon became apparent to the poor staff of the restaurant that this higher than minimum wage paycheck was there for a reason. Their boss had a little bit of a temper. Like right now, for instance.

Her current assistant, a frizzy haired girl with black rimmed glasses, had failed. An important client had taken their business elsewhere because the little flea had managed to forget to tell her boss that they had called. She insisted that she had. This was a ridiculous retort to Maggie, as it was appalling to even consider that she would forget something so important. Maggie wanted to scream and yell. She wanted to rip out that dowdy brown hair from the little twits skull, and shove it down her narrow throat. However, Maggie couldn't do that. It was working hours, and she had to be a proper boss. Bleeding Hearts was becoming the chic de chic of New York City, and this puss-pimple wasn't going to stop this. But she did send her crying.

Out the back door, of course.

Maggie followed her through the kitchen, ever the foreboding tyrant. None of the staff would be surprised that the girl was crying, a box full of her desk items in hand. Many of them didn't even look at her. As for Maggie herself, they seemed to skirt away from her, wary of what mood she might be in. Like cockroaches shy away from light. The red suit clung to her frame, her red haired curled. A tyrant she may be, but she was a stylish tyrant.

And a tyrant now without an assistant.

She couldn't do another girl. Seventeen assistants have told her that women were far to weak for this sort of work. Which was rather disappointing. Maggie was a woman, after all, and she was doing it all. She had a thriving business, beauty, and a man. Yes, she lost her temper at times, but where were these girls' thick skins. No, Maggie needed a man. Someone who could stay sturdy and strong. However, someone who didn't look like her 'type', so as to not insight jealousy in Ryan. The last thing she needed right now was for him to show his green side.

Her eyes scanned the servers, finally landing on one who walked in. He was young, with black hair, a bit on the short side. Cute, in his way, in a rather feminine sort of way. Perfection. "You." Maggie said authoritatively. Her hand extended, pointed her red liquored nailed finger at the boy. Whatshisname? Hell, as if it mattered right now. "My office, now." Sparing him a short glance, an imperious gaze in her pale heart shaped face, before walking back to her office. Sitting at her desk, she arranged her fresh roses (bless Ryan's little heart) in the Tiffany vase, awaiting her fresh meat.

[JAMES KENNEDY]

No, Maggie Sinclaire was not the ideal boss, and Jamie was as much in agreement with the rest of the staff at Bleeding Hearts as anyone could be. None of them understood how any person could handle being that woman's assistant, considering how much work she laid on the poor girls' heads and how stressful dealing with her on a regular basis could be. Jamie hadn't worked there long enough to see all seventeen assistants come and go, but he'd seen enough to know that his boss very well might be off her rocker. She paid well, which helped her maintain employees, but the usual method of dealing with her among the staff was generally just to stay out of sight and out of mind. It worked for most people.

That was Jamie's problem today, though. Everyone else saw and heard Miss Sinclaire coming, so they scattered and made themselves look busy with the opening sidework. Jamie came through the doors into the kitchen with his lighter making its way into his pocket and the box of replacement candles, a deep red color to go with the general atmosphere of the place, in hand, and he wasn't thinking about what Miss Sinclaire was up to. He'd heard the yelling and should have taken that as a damn good reason to find a way to stay in the dining room, but he had shit to do and hiding out just didn't feel like the route to take, especially since his boss didn't really fuck with him. As long as he did his job, didn't mouth off to her and stayed off the radar, she didn't care and probably couldn't have even called him by name if she needed to. He preferred it that way. Was that a good enough reason for him walking into the kitchen right then? He thought so, but once he was there, it didn't matter.

Miss Sinclaire's eyes skimmed the employees at her disposal, and Jamie didn't do anything more than glance her way before putting the box of candles back into its cabinet home and mentally moving on to the next task required to get the restaurant open. He didn't get that far, but he got credit for trying, right? His boss' gaze stopped on him, and as cliche as it sounded, he could feel it like a hot weight against him, so that when she addressed him with just 'you' and an order to her office, he looked up and wasn't actually surprised that she was talking to him. He didn't understand why, which might have explained the way that his eyes widened just a little and confusion crossed his features, but this woman was a predator; signs of fear would be taken advantage of. It took a second to manage, but he calmed the quick spike of panic with a nod and a deep breath before he followed her.

If she tried to kill him, one of these bastards better come help him, damn it. How shitty was it that he knew they wouldn't?

God, why did she look at him like that? What had he fucked up? It didn't even occur to him that her calling him to her office would have anything to do with Beth, the old assistant (their boss called her 'hey you, retard, among other colorful 'nicknames'), because why would it? Unless Beth had thrown him under the bright red bus here, he shouldn't even register on Miss Sinclaire's radar? So why did he? Fuck!

"Yes, Miss Sinclaire?" he asked once he'd come to a stop in front of her desk, hands grasped behind his back in a straight-backed, almost military style parade rest that worked out on the dining room floor, where the customers didn't want to see the servers truly at leisure; this was comfortable while still looking professional, and right now? He needed to look professional. It didn't take much out of his boss to make someone wonder if their job was at stake, especially after someone else got fired like three minutes previously. Could it be that Miss Sinclaire was just in a pissy mood and wanted to fire people? God, he needed this job, he hoped not.

Easy, Jamie, neutral expression. She wasn't subtle, so she'd make it known what was wrong.

[MAGGIE SINCLAIRE]

"Sit." Her voice was so crisp and sharp, that you could slice paper with it. It was a voice that was certainly use to being in a position of authority. Which was a fact. She had very fond memories in her childhood of ordering around various nannies, and eventually the staff at her Father's restraints down south. Even then there was an imperious quality, as she pointed her little painted fingers at them. But right now, there was no finger pointed. Now she was sitting at her desk, scanning the employee closely.

He wasn't too big, which means that he wouldn't intimidate people who were suppose to be 'friends'. But he wasn't so small that he was completely useless. He was easy on the eyes, which was something Maggie held in high regard. Not that an ugly person would ever get through the doors of Bleeding Hearts as a member of staff. He wasn't what she would call sexy- she had a thing for masculine features, after all. But he was rather... cute. Much like a kitten trapped in a paper bag it had just scampered into. His hair was even black, which if dyed would be maintained, as it would never clash with what she was wearing.

"You've been working here a while. I assume you can read, write, answer a telephone." Maggie had no idea of his connection with Amy. If she did, there was a good chance that he wouldn't work here. After all, she loathed her dear best friend with the white hot passion of one thousand super novas. As of right now, he was simply a man... well, boy. Man boy. Moy. Ban. Whatever.

Grabbing a cigarette, she lit it up, the butt staining red from her lipstick. "I detest stupidity. I can't say I have much patience for it. But you've managed to stay off my shit list- forgive my french- so that's something." There was a distinct impression that she was merely thinking out loud. A pretty, yet dangerous, smirk played on her cherry red lips. "I know I have quite the reputation amongst the staff. But, you see, it isn't that I'm mean. I simply have a high standard. One which is expected from Bleeding Hearts. If that makes me a bad guy, so be it." The smoke curled delicately out of her mouth, as she put on her very best martyr voice.

Maggie's golden green eyes- hazel in a more conventional approach- narrowed on him, examining him closer. He was well put together. His shirt tucked in, his slacks unstained. He'd even been working when she called him forward, despite her presence in the kitchen. He had a spine. She rather liked that, at this very moment. Yes, she was quite sure about this. "Yes, I've decided. That's that. You're fired." With a bright smile, she opened the file drawer. "What's your name, so I can fill out this pink slip?"

[JAMES KENNEDY]

'The employee' was completely uncertain as to what was going on right then, which didn't sound great when one considered that this was Maggie Sinclaire he was dealing with. He had no idea of the back-handed compliments she was giving him within her own thoughts, but a 'kitten trapped in a paper bag it had just scampered into' was pretty damn cute, if not in the way that Jamie would like to be considered such. Being a werewolf, he'd have preferred something that sounded less childish or...gay? Maybe something just a little more intimidating? Possibly? Damn it.

She didn't only 'compliment' him internally, since she pointed out that she knew he'd been working there awhile, that he must know how to read, write and answer a telephone, that she hated stupidity and that he'd managed to stay off her shitlist, which had to mean he wasn't stupid, and from her, those were almost compliments. She could acknowledge the fact that he might be worth something, and he'd worked there long enough to know that was the best someone could really get with her. That still didn't make this little talk in her office make any more sense to him, since he couldn't imagine her complimenting him for no reason or complimenting him and then ripping him a new one for something he didn't know he'd done wrong. It made no sense to him.

Jamie absorbed her little martyr routine silently and without a change in expression, not entirely encouraging the discussion, but certainly not making any indication that he didn't agree; Maggie didn't require assurances that she was in the right, and she'd already suggested that he wasn't stupid. The only part he had in the conversation as she basically talked at him was to nod and offer a 'yes, ma'am' about being able to read, write and answer a phone. That was, until she narrowed her eyes and seemed to really inspect him, which made him glad for today and all of the other times that he'd actually put effort into the way he came into work. He wasn't a slob and he didn't look like one, so it was good of her to notice. It would have also made him feel better about the entire exchange if he'd known that she had not only noticed, but approved of, the fact that he'd been working when she came through like a tornado; after working there for as long as he had, he knew what to do and what not to, and he'd much rather be busy when she bustled through than staring at her or the walls. At least then he could hope she wasn't paying him any mind. Now, it almost felt like all those days of staying out of her way and avoiding her attention were compounded into a single session where she was going to stare at him just long enough to flip him out, then lay some horrible punishment upon him. In the end, he'd been guaranteed to lose.

Wait. WHAT?! FIRED?! Why would she fire him?! He hadn't done anything wrong, and from the sounds of it, he'd done all right! His eyes widened a little as he stared back at her, his initial reaction being anger and a need to know why she was firing him rather than giving her his name, but this was Maggie Sinclaire, and he needed this fucking job. If he lost it and acted like an asshole, then he didn't stand a chance in hell of keeping his job. With only a second's hesitation for shock and anger, he pulled it all back with a deep intake of breath to ensure that he didn't say the wrong thing and found his voice. "Jamie. James Kennedy. Miss Sinclaire, please, what are you firing me for? None of that sounded like I'd done anything wrong."

This bitch was crazy, seriously, but he'd known that. He had, but not to this extent. She was savvy, so why would she fire a good employee for no apparent reason?

[MAGGIE SINCLAIRE]

Maggie's lips pursed into a small grin when she saw the employee twitch in confusion. Oh, weren't those the saddest puppy dog eyes Maggie had ever seen? Quickly she found his file, which was spotless to be sure, and filled in the appropriate paper work as he asked his little questions. Her golden-green eyes flashed up to him, her smile twisting to a patronizing bow. "You haven't." Her pitch was informative and light. Filling out the pink slip, she pushed it forward in front of him. "You've been an ideal waiter. Haven't called attention to yourself once." Maggie exhaled the smoke from her cigarette, her smile wide.

She was a creature who was easily bored, and thus this little game was quite amusing to her. Grabbing the proper paperwork, Maggie spoke as she began to match transfer his information. "I need an assistant, and you fit the bill. I think a male assistant will be far better for my tastes. Women are to emotional. I need someone who can be logical about situations. I don't know if you've heard, but I have a tiny bit of a temper. Incompetence is one of my main triggers, so don't forget that." Maggie was in business mode, sitting back in her seat and putting out her cigarette. "$39,000 is the typical yearly salary for a personal assistant, but I'm a generous soul. $50,000 should suffice. Two days off a month- fair given the wage- and a work cell phone that will be charged at all times."

Maggie finished was quiet as she finished the paper work. Not because she couldn't multitask. No, she wanted to give him a chance mull it over. To suck on it. Certainly the pay raise would be appealing to him. It would be appealing to anyone, especially a person living in New York City on a waiters salary. "You're appearance is a direct reflection of me. Black dress shoes, black socks, black slacks, black button down. Red tie. Silk is preferred. Hair is to remain off your shoulders. Get a trim. No piercings in while on the clock. Those I can't see obviously excluded from that rule. Any cologne you wear better be light. I have a sensitive nose. Understood?"

Maggie found her standards completely fair. With a final smile, she passed him the paper work. [color=red}"You'll just need to sigh on the X's. Of course, you could always refuse the job. You're more than welcome to the door. But it's not rocket science, and I'm easy to please, so long as you don't piss me off."[/color] Well, it was partly true. The unfortunate part was that someone was never really sure what would piss Maggie Sinclaire off that particular day. "The choice is, obviously, yours."

[JAMES KENNEDY]

Oh, God, she was smiling and telling him he was an ideal waiter. Something was terribly wrong, was she going to kill him? This made no sense, there had to be something horrible in store for him, but what? Why would she bother to be at all nice to him, to compliment or smile at him in something other than some bitchy scorn? He turned his eyes down to the pink slip she'd pushed towards him, aware that she wanted his signature and still not understanding why he was being fired. He only had to wait another moment or so, however, because she didn't leave him hanging as she went back to paperwork.

She...what.

An assistant. She was firing him so that she could...hire him again? As her assistant? He knew his job, and he knew it well, but he wasn't cut out to be anyone's assistant, nevermind hers. He'd JUST seen what happened with her last assistant, and he'd definitely witnessed what the others went through. Those women had basically run Bleeding Hearts for Maggie, and then kept her entire life in order on top of that. It was high-stress and Maggie was a perfectionist, not to mention being prone to fits of temper, sometimes for no predictable reason except that she was in a mood and she wasn't happy with something. Jamie had always seen those poor women struggle with the job, had even tried to help them with the restaurant portion (and sometimes dropping advice about his boss if he knew what was going on) wherever he could without catching Maggie's eye, but that didn't mean he wanted the job. In fact, he'd never understood why the assistants stayed as long as they did, but now he had an idea.

For as crazy as Maggie Sinclaire was, she was also smart; Jamie needed this job, and she'd fired him from his waiter position before offering him the job as her assistant. It was a significant pay raise, but he understood why that was. She was ridiculously demanding and he was probably doomed to failure, but he had bills to make. Liam worked, but it was sporadic and unpredictable, so it was Jamie's income that guaranteed that they had the money they needed. He was fine with that because he made good money, but not if he lost his job today. Fuck. What was he supposed to do?

Take the job, obviously. Two days off a month, though? The rest he could deal with, he hoped, but with only two days, he'd burn out sooner or later, especially when he was dealing with her day in and day out. Pfft, didn't know if he'd heard she had a 'tiny bit of a temper'? Yeah, he'd heard. Fuck, this was such a horrible idea. Even worse was that he was going to HAVE to speak up, or there wasn't a chance he'd make it with this woman, even though his usual method of dealing with her was to keep working and try to stay out of her line of sight.

"That is...a generous offer, Miss Sinclaire, thank you," he started slowly, considering. His cologne was subtle already because his own nose was much more sensitive than hers could be and he already dressed well for work at the restaurant, so that wasn't terrible. He didn't actually have any piercings, and he already put his hair up. He could trim it, since he was just relieved she wasn't demanding that he cut it all off, and he could manage the uniform well enough. None of that was the problem. "My only request, ma'am, is for more than two days a month, if I could. I'm attending Barrie University, and two days doesn't really allow any time to keep up with that workload."

Not that she cared, but his current schedule was essentially perfect for him to attend classes and get his homework done around his time at Bleeding Hearts. This didn't even include the wolf condition, which had been making him essentially useless in a classroom for three days out of the month. He'd also had to take off work those evenings to shift, so what was he going to do about that? What kind of hours was she talking?

Yeah, agreeing to this was a terrible idea, but he was going to do it, wasn't he?