Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 71679 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 358(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71679 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 358(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
I turn my attention back to the chats. I’m curious to see what Darby has to say in my defense. She’s so nice that she usually finds something. She’s neutral ground. Instead of getting a business degree, she should have gone into psychology or social work. Or maybe even family law.
I only have to wait a few more seconds before something interesting pops up on the screen.
Amanda: Dude, I don’t know how you freaking manage to work with him. I couldn’t handle him for more than a minute a day, and you’re his damn assistant. That’s rough. We pity your poor soul.
Jane: Speaking of souls, Lord Poo is kind of the devil. But I wouldn’t mind being sent down to the fiery furnace place if he was the one ruling over it all.
Amanda: Gross. He’s rude.
Jane: But his eyes, though. God, those eyes. So, so blue and gray and stormy. And oh, his bottom in those expensive suits he wears.
Oh, look. Margery from accounting is chiming in.
Margery: Got invited in a minute ago and was waiting for the right moment to say something. What better time than a thirst trap in the waiting? Lord Poo might be a jerk, but you’ve got one thing right. I wouldn’t mind it one bit if that man threw me over his shoulder and carted me off to my demise. At least I’d get a good look at his backside and could die happy.
Jane: That ass is good enough to lick. Or taste. Or eat.
Margery: What part are we talking about here? Because I’d bite a cheek, but I’m not so sure about licking or eating.
For the record, Margery is fifty-eight years old and a grandmother of thirteen.
Darby: Whoa! Uhhh, okay, someone asked me how I handle him. Let’s go with that before we get off track. It’s not so bad. He drinks expensive coffee that I have to get from this coffee shop located a ten-minute drive away, but I pick it up on my way to work now, so it’s no biggie. He likes the beans from there and only from there. But I’m not complaining. He’s just like everyone else. He always has a huge list of things that need doing. It keeps me busy, which is good. He gets his clothes dry cleaned and needs to send emails and have his phone answered like anyone else. He’s really not that scary. Although he can be seriously foul at times, I’m sure it’s not very fun for him if no one reacts.
She’s far too diplomatic, this woman who I’m going to try and convince to be my wife to save my ass from having to leave this country. She’d probably argue and talk me out of deportation if I dragged her down to the immigration offices.
Amanda: He walks around like a dragon most of the time, breathing fire all over the place. I’m surprised your bottom hasn’t been roasted yet. Don’t get too close to the flames. One day, you might get burnt.
Very good advice, Amanda from marketing. Very good advice.
Jane: Have you ever spat in his coffee? I wouldn’t be able to resist. Hot or not, I mean, he’s still an asshole.
Darby: Nah. Spitting makes me feel sick.
Amanda: Good call. He probably has someone to taste test his coffee to make sure it hasn’t been poisoned.
Jane: I would find a way to get back at him. Like rub insulation in his dry-cleaned shirts so that when he puts them on, he gets itchy.
Darby: I would have to buy the insulation then. That seems like a lot of effort.
Amanda: You’re so unflappable. I wish I could be like you. One single look from Lord Poo is enough to make my bones go cold. Have you noticed his eyes? They’re messed up. No one has eyes like that.
Jane: I think his eyes are nice, but the pupils are a little off. Kind of creepy.
What the fuck? How could they have noticed my eyes? I’m pissed now, grabbing the edge of my desk. I want to walk out there and give a lecture on the effects of living with chronic pain, but that would just reinforce their negative image of me. Sensitivity training would be more useful. I make a mental note to schedule a course for the entire office. It would be delightful to take screenshots of this chat and use them as examples, even though I won’t. I don’t like to talk about what’s going on with me, but I’m sure I’m not the only one who is on the receiving end of some not-so-nice comments in this place, and it should stop. Immediately.
Amanda: His eyes probably get that way from all those puppies he eats for dinner and the blood of the innocents he drinks. He has a diet that keeps him fit.