Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 97865 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 489(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97865 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 489(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
Nope, just heartbroken and angry. “Gee, thanks.”
“Shit, sorry. I didn’t mean it that way. You still look great. Just tired. Amy mentioned you went home sick yesterday.”
I wonder what else Amy mentioned. “Yeah. Just a bug. I’ll be fine.”
Kyle takes a sip of his coffee. “That sucks. I actually wanted to ask you. . . I have tickets to a show tomorrow night—The Whistle Pigs. Any chance you’d want to go?”
“I can’t say I’ve heard of them.”
“What? No way! They’re a local band. Here. You have to listen.” He pulls out one of his AirPods and hands it to me. I smile and place it in my ear while he plays the song. Music blasts as he watches me listen. “Whaddya think? Cool, right?”
“Yeah. They’re not—”
“What the hell are you doing?” Theo’s voice snaps through the breakroom, and Kyle jumps. “I thought the coffee machine was broken.”
“I guess it’s fixed.”
“Then where’s my coffee?” he barks, taking in how close I’m standing to Kyle.
“In the coffee machine,” I bite out.
“Then get it! And, you—get to fucking work.” He jabs his finger toward Kyle, then storms off.
“Man, how do you work for that guy?”
I hand him back his AirPods. “I imagine poisoning him daily, which gives me immense pleasure.” Kyle laughs. “Thanks for the invite. Some other time, though.”
“Yeah, sure. See ya.” I wave him off as I trek back to Theo’s office with his coffee and debate spitting in it. When I return, he’s sitting at his worktable. It takes everything in me not to accidentally dump it over his head.
“Your coffee.”
He doesn’t say thank you, and I regret not adding my own special touch. “Sit down. I need you to read over the report.” I huff, take the empty seat next to him, and flip through the pages.
“You’re not even reading it.”
“Yes, I am.”
“You’re not. Start over.”
“Asshole,” I mumble, moving my eyes back to the first page. This time, I count to fifteen between every page flip. My phone buzzes, and I pull it out of my skirt pocket.
Mindy: How’s it going? Kick him in the dick yet?
I stifle a laugh and reply.
Me: No but I think I’m going to spit in his next cup of coffee.
Mindy: Girl, piss in it.
I laugh again.
“What the hell is so funny?”
“None of your business.” I put my phone face-down on the table.
“I pay you to work, not fuck around—”
“No, you’re forcing me to work. I don’t want to be here. You threatened to take away any chance of getting another job if I didn’t.” He reaches for my hand, and I pull away. “You don’t get to do that either. If you cross the line in any way, I will go to HR. I’ll tell everyone how you came on to me, and that it was not mutual.” His hand freezes. His desk phone rings. “Your eight o’clock call is early.” I stand and grab my phone.
“Fay—”
“If you don’t like it, fire me.” I leave his office, feeling like maybe I won a little, but my chest quickly deflates. This isn’t how I wanted it to be. I hurry to the bathroom and shut myself in a stall, willing my heartbeat to slow and fighting not to cry. I want to go back in there and yell at him. Make him tell me why. I do breathing exercises and counting techniques Mindy taught me from a stupid Google search and pull myself together. When I get back to my desk, my email notification dings.
To: Fay_Evans@MIC.org
From: T_Monroe@MIC.org
Subject: 10 am meeting
You will be attending this meeting. I expect you to study the report and take notes.
Theo Monroe
CEO, Monroe Investment Corp
From: Fay_Evans@MIC.org
To: T_Monroe@MIC.org
Subject: 10 am meeting
Fay Evans
Executive Assistant to Theo Monroe
God, I hate him. He doesn’t reply, and I’m glad. His call runs late, so he’s still preoccupied when his ten o’clock clients arrive. I greet them and walk them into the conference room. I may hate Theo, but his clients didn’t do anything wrong, so I have a box of pastries on the table again.
“Please, enjoy a pastry while you wait.”
They take a seat and dive into the goodies. I smile at the groans. I’m going to miss that local bakery. I walk around the table, handing each gentleman a report and making small talk. There’s a younger guy at the end, and when I give him the report, he stalls, looking up at me.
“Hey, not to overstep, but I swear I’ve seen you before.”
“Hmmm. . . not sure. I haven’t been with Mr. Monroe very long.” Theo finally makes his entrance.
The guy smiles at me. “Well, I’m new too. Interning. And I can’t pinpoint where, but I swear we’ve met—wait! I know. Bev’s. You bartend there, right?”
I return his smile, fighting a blush. “Yeah. On the weekends mainly.”
“I knew it. I have to say, you’re a great bartender. We’re always there on Fridays. Any chance you’re working this weekend?”