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minimumbullshitBrian was a lot of things, but when it came to his career, reckless wasn't one of them. His arrogance, his ambition, his rebelliousness, had gotten him far, both in Pittsburgh and in Darrow's smaller pond. He took risks, sure, but he'd gotten where he was through working his ass off. He took his career seriously, and he never once took for granted the position he was in. Being at the top mattered, because what was the fucking point of doing what he did, if he wasn't the best?
Which was why the events of that morning were such a fucking shitshow.
It started weeks before, when he'd caught wind of an opening for partner in the agency. He was still a newcomer, technically, but he'd already brought in more accounts than any of their senior ad execs. He'd secured a reputation as someone who wasn't afraid to push boundaries to get results, winning the trust of even the most skeptical clients. He was a fucking shoe-in, but he'd hesitated to celebrate, after Vanguard's takeover of his last agency. Still, he'd been prepared to get a meeting with the other partners that week.
He hadn't been prepared to watch some fucking toady, a guy who'd been with the agency even less time than Brian, who barely had a base of accounts to his name, get the position instead.
That wasn't even the issue. He was furious, vibrating with cold fury as he stormed into his boss's office, but he still could have turned it around. That was, until his boss made some crack about Brian's sex life, and the mess it had caused with a few clients, who'd refused to work with someone with such an openly subversive lifestyle.
The situation only got worse from there.
The argument lasted only ten minutes, and it was Brian who ended it. He might've gone overboard, calling his boss a fucking homophobic twit, loudly enough for everyone in the bullpen to hear, but it felt really fucking good.
He lost his client list, he lost his pending projects, he lost fucking everything, but as he was escorted from the building, a box of his meager belongings tucked under one arm, he actually felt good. They didn't fucking deserve him, anyway.
It wasn't until he pulled into his parking space at home and got on the elevator, that panic crept in.
"Fuck," he breathed, leaning outside his apartment, his head thumping back against the wall. "Fuck."
Which was why the events of that morning were such a fucking shitshow.
It started weeks before, when he'd caught wind of an opening for partner in the agency. He was still a newcomer, technically, but he'd already brought in more accounts than any of their senior ad execs. He'd secured a reputation as someone who wasn't afraid to push boundaries to get results, winning the trust of even the most skeptical clients. He was a fucking shoe-in, but he'd hesitated to celebrate, after Vanguard's takeover of his last agency. Still, he'd been prepared to get a meeting with the other partners that week.
He hadn't been prepared to watch some fucking toady, a guy who'd been with the agency even less time than Brian, who barely had a base of accounts to his name, get the position instead.
That wasn't even the issue. He was furious, vibrating with cold fury as he stormed into his boss's office, but he still could have turned it around. That was, until his boss made some crack about Brian's sex life, and the mess it had caused with a few clients, who'd refused to work with someone with such an openly subversive lifestyle.
The situation only got worse from there.
The argument lasted only ten minutes, and it was Brian who ended it. He might've gone overboard, calling his boss a fucking homophobic twit, loudly enough for everyone in the bullpen to hear, but it felt really fucking good.
He lost his client list, he lost his pending projects, he lost fucking everything, but as he was escorted from the building, a box of his meager belongings tucked under one arm, he actually felt good. They didn't fucking deserve him, anyway.
It wasn't until he pulled into his parking space at home and got on the elevator, that panic crept in.
"Fuck," he breathed, leaning outside his apartment, his head thumping back against the wall. "Fuck."
