Sincerely Up Yours – Grumpy Boss Comedy Read Online Penelope Bloom

Categories Genre: Contemporary, Funny, Romance Tags Authors: Penelope Bloom Advertisement1

Advertisement2

I was reaching up to tap the guy on the shoulder before I knew what I was doing.

“Hey,” I said as firmly as I could manage.

The guy turned and my brain shut down. He wasn’t just hot. He was what you’d get if you rubbed a genie lamp and asked for your own personal sex god. Narrow, slitted eyes that were a mesmerizing emerald color. Full lips, a blade of a nose, and a perfect jaw dusted with stubble. If he asked me to jump off a bridge at that moment I would’ve muttered something about how I always keep a condom in my purse because you just never know.

“What?” he asked. He looked down at me while somehow giving me the impression he wasn’t seeing me at all.

“You, uh–” I stammered. “She’s–” I lifted a limp finger toward the barista, who was watching me with clear concern. She probably thought I was having a stroke.

The man shook his head and stormed off, leaving me standing with my finger raised. I sighed and let my arm flop to my side. “I was going to tell him to be nice to you,” I said once I’d remembered how to speak.

The girl shrugged. “It’s alright. He’s not the first asshole to order a coffee from here. He might be the prettiest though,” she added with a twinkling look in his direction.

I followed her gaze to where he was brooding in the corner of the coffee shop with his phone in one hand and his other jammed into his suit pocket. “Pretty like one of those dish detergent pods. Looks sweet as candy but deadly if you put it in your mouth.”

The girl was giving me a weird look. “Uh, yeah. Sure. Did you want your usual, or?”

“The usual is good,” I said, paying and then taking a seat as far away from him as I could. My perfect day was already starting to feel just slightly spoiled, so I tried to salvage my mood by imagining all the things I should’ve said to him. I should’ve told him they spit in everybody’s coffee who is rude. Or maybe I should’ve just said he needed to apologize to her.

I’d run through about a dozen scenarios by the time he got his coffee. I watched him stride up to the counter, lift the lid, sniff it, and take a cautious sip. Instead of thanking them or saying it was good, he just took those long legs of his straight out of the shop without a word.

I watched him go and felt a surge of annoyance with myself. Something about the guy had been weirdly familiar, almost like I recognized him from somewhere. But how the hell would I forget a face like that?

I was still thinking about it when I thanked the girl who gave me my coffee and headed back out into the street toward the office. Within a minute or so, I’d put the asshole in the suit completely from my mind. Okay, almost completely. It was possible I’d shoved just a little memory of him in my “dirty dreams for later” mental closet, but that was beside the point.

I had a delicious pile of sugar with a pinch of coffee in my hand, a dream in my head, and the day I’d been anxiously awaiting ahead of me. My phone buzzed again and I was surprised to see a text from my dad this time.

Dad: Have you heard back from The Union Coast yet about your application?

I cringed. The Union Coast was the end-all-be-all of prestigious publications. It was news, opinion pieces, politics, and just about every intellectual on the planet read it. A full-time job for The Union Coast had always been my dad’s dream–a dream he never quite reached.

I hadn’t actually sent that application in. But I fibbed and told him I was still waiting, then felt my mood drop several octaves. I’d finally texted him last night to explain how important today was. After months of working for The Squawker and working on various articles, my boss told me to come up with my own idea for a weekly article written exclusively by me. It was everything I’d been hoping for and working toward for the last two years. So ever since she told me, I’d been up late busting my ass to come up with the perfect pitch after I got home from work. All I had to do was explain my idea today and she’d virtually promised the opportunity was mine.

I’d told my dad as much in several carefully crafted sentences that were supposed to convey just how much this meant to me. And his response? He was asking whether I was any closer to getting a “real” job.

I felt my face contorting into a scowl and I made myself breathe as I walked. I tried to manufacture something more like a smile, but it felt forced.


Advertisement3

Advertisement4