“Right, right.” He nods. “I think the plumber said something about…” He stops talking once we get inside the kitchen and the door slides closed behind me.
“Fuck me, she’s like a vulture.” I try to shake her touch off of me.
“Opening night will be interesting.” Denis knows she’ll probably plaster herself to my side and never let go.
I shake my head, not wanting to even think about it. “What else do we need before the final touches come together?” I ask him as my phone beeps in my pocket. I take it out, looking at the screen and seeing a text from Lauren.
Car will be out of impound as soon as you head down there and fill out a form. Sorry, I can’t do it, because the car is in your name.
I shake my head.
You have to drive me there. This is your fault after all.
She answers in a matter of seconds.
Great, I can’t wait. Good news, I can sing along to the song!
Fuck me, that goddamn song starts up in my head again.
Forget it. I’ll ask Noah.
I text Noah next, asking him to pick me up at my office in an hour. Looking at my watch, I notice that I have to get back or I’ll have to drive the car to Lauren’s house.
“Okay, so when are we doing the photos?” I ask Denis as we walk back out of the kitchen. I scan the area and see that Serena has either left the building or is hiding somewhere, probably ready to pounce.
“I have to talk to Jake at the PR firm, but I’m thinking the night of the opening before everyone comes in would be best.” Denis replies while taking his own phone out to take some notes.
“Perfect.” I say good-bye and head back out into the hot sun. My good mood is short-lived when I see what is sitting there, awaiting me, in front of the restaurant. What I begin thinking of as the vessel to hell, aka Lauren’s minivan, waits to transport me back to the office on a ride filled with the song that will surely haunt my nightmares for a long time to come. Fuck my life.
Chapter Fifteen
LAUREN
I’m typing up the notes for tomorrow’s meeting when my keys drop on my desk with a big clank.
“Never a-fucking-gain.” I look up at him with a smile on my face, which is wiped away the minute I see red lipstick on his shirt collar.
“You better not have had sex in my car,” I snap at him, getting up from my chair. “You are having my whole car shampooed.” I wag my finger at him and hope that he can’t see how fast my heart is beating. The pit of my stomach burns at the mere thought of him having sex in my car.
He looks at me as if I have two heads, his brows furrowed in confusion. “Seriously, don’t you ever have sex at night?” I ask him. “It’s what normal people do.”
“I don’t even know what the fuck you’re talking about right now.” He puts his hands on his hips.
“You have skank all over your collar.” I point to the lipstick.
“Oh, that.” He reaches to exactly that spot before smirking at me.
“I thought you were at a meeting. Or does a booty call qualify as your meeting these days?” I ask, glaring at him. “Good times.”
“You wouldn’t know a good time if it hit you in the face.”
I roll my eyes and scoff at him as I cross my arms over my chest. “Ok, whatever you say.” I look past him to see that our fighting has drawn a bit of a crowd. Peeking around the corner is Carmen, along with Steven and Barbara, who is standing there watching us over the glasses perched on the tip of her nose. “You had sex in your office and now my car. Jesus. Can’t you control yourself?” I grab my keys off my desk while I lean down to grab my purse.
“Are you always this uptight?” My body stills while he continues, “Maybe if you loosened up a little, you would still be married.”
The minute the words leave his mouth, I hear a gasp from Barbara, but that isn’t what gets me. What gets me is the fact that he is right. Maybe if I weren’t so uptight, I would still be married. Maybe if I lived a little, Jake wouldn’t have cheated. I don’t know what hurts me more, the fact that I’m questioning myself or that he thinks these things of me. All I know is that my heart just hurts.
I place my purse on my desk as I gather my things. I do not make eye contact with him or acknowledge him in any way.
My coffee cup, my Post-it notes, the picture of my kids that I put next to the computer all get tossed into my purse, overfilling it.
I grab my keys off the desk and walk away from him, never once looking at him. Not once giving him the satisfaction of knowing that he hit his mark and hurt me. All the pranks in the world couldn’t have come close to hurting me as much as the words he just spoke did.
“Lauren,” he says softly, right when I’m about to turn the corner. “I didn’t—”
I turn around, the hurt now mixed with anger. “You didn’t what, Austin? You didn’t mean to insinuate that I’m uptight and that’s the reason my husband had an affair and left me? Well, good job, Austin, you guessed it in one,” I hiss at him, trying to keep my voice from cracking.
“Lauren, I didn’t mean—” He walks up to me and reaches out with one hand to touch me.
“No, no, it’s fine. And you’re right, that’s what happened.” I side-step him and use my hands to block him from touching me. I hear the elevator ping and turn to hurry around the corner to slip inside the open door right before it slides shut.
The last thing I see before the elevator door closes is Austin turning the corner quickly, racing up to the door. He’s too late, though; it closes in his face, right before I hear what I assume is his hand slapping the closed door.
I press the button for the lobby repeatedly, ridiculously hoping it will make the elevator go faster than it is. I know it won’t work, I know this, everyone knows this, but I keep pressing the button anyway.
The door opens to the lobby, and I’m thankful that it is empty. I run toward my car and don’t look back. Austin parked it exactly where I left it this morning. Thank god for small favors.
Opening the door, I throw everything inside as I rush to get in the car, get going, and get the hell out of there before I can allow the first tear to fall. Because it will. It’s just a matter of time.
My eyes fill with tears, blurring my vision. Starting the car and making my way out of the parking lot, I pull up Penelope’s number on my phone.
If I’m on Bluetooth and on my phone, thankfully that overrides the music.
“Hey,” she answers cheerily.
“Hey.” I angrily wipe away the tear that has made its way over my lashes and onto my cheek. “I’m not going back. I’m sorry. I really tried to tough it out. I hate to put you in this position, but I…I just can’t go back,” I finish as my voice cracks.
“Hey, now,” she whispers, her voice softening. “I don’t give a fuck about the job. Are you okay?” I shake my head no while more tears fall freely.
“I’m going to hang up now. I’ll grab a couple of bottles of wine and head to your place. Is this a case for Alanis Morissette?” she asks, because everyone knows Alanis Morissette is the wronged, hurt woman’s anthem, no matter how old they are.
“I already have the CD in my player at home,” I sniffle.
The phone beeps and I see it’s Austin calling me on the other line. I quickly decline his ass.
“Okay, I’m going to go call Barbara and let her know that you aren’t coming back,” she assures me. “See you in an hour.”
“I think she probably knows. There was a scene.” I’m not sure how much of a scene it actually was, but to me, it felt like all of my co-workers were there to witness my humiliation.
“Oh, fuck. No worries, hon, I’ll take care of it.” And she clicks off just in time for the fucking “Let it Go” chorus to ring, loud and clear, through my car.
I make it home in record time, climbing out and thanking the powers that be that the kids are staying with Jake tonight. Every second week, he gets a mid-week sleepover, and tonight is that night.
&
nbsp; I open the door, letting myself in, dumping everything down by the door. I walk straight to the kitchen, open the fridge, and grab the open bottle of wine from the door.
Ripping the cork out of the bottle and not bothering with a glass, I bring the bottle to my lips, gulping down enough wine to begin the process of soothing my jagged little edges. Somewhat.
I’m about to go for a second big swig when the back door opens and Kaleigh walks in. She looks at me and drops her yoga mat.
“What happened?” She rushes over to me.
I take that swig before answering her. “I’m uptight, apparently.” I allow those hurt feelings along with the tears I’ve tried to keep at bay to consume me. “According to Austin, it’s why my husband left me,” I whimper before bringing the bottle back to my lips and finishing it off in one long pull.
“What are you talking about? Explain, please.” She goes to the wine fridge in the living room and comes back with another bottle. She looks for the corkscrew, slamming drawers in an effort to find it quickly.
I pull off the jacket that I was wearing today and climb up onto a stool, while she pours two glasses of wine. Handing one to me, she offers a toast. “To assholes, and to the women who think they’re fucking the prize.”
I nod in agreement and finish the glass off. I don’t think I even stop to breathe.
My phone rings from over by the front door. I don’t even move to get it, but Kaleigh does. “It’s Austin. I’m assuming this”—she points to the bottles of wine—“has to do with him?”
I don’t answer verbally; instead, I just offer her a jerky nod yes. She presses decline, and I see her fingers move over the screen. “Don’t bother,” I tell her. “I already quit.”
Her eyes snap up. “What did he do?”
“Well, he borrowed my car, possibly had sex in it, and when I called him out on it, he called me uptight. Me. ME, MEEE!” I shriek while pulling the bottle of wine closer to me. “We need to play Alanis.” I start pouring myself another glass.
“Fuck, I’m going to hide the sharp knives,” she murmurs as she heads into the living room and plugs in my phone. Her fingers move across the screen, and in no time, Alanis’s angry, raspy, knowing voice is serenading us in commiseration.
“After he said I’m uptight, which I totally am not. Remember that time I gave Jake car head in the driveway?” I ask her.
“Yes, I was very proud of you.” She comes around the counter to sit on another stool and listen to the rest of my story.
“Well, after that, he said that maybe if I loosened up a little, I’d still be married.” I look at her, letting the pain I feel at that moment show. “I’ll admit, maybe he’s onto something, but it’s not the whole reason. It’s because that skanky whore waved her non-saggy tits in my husband’s face, and he made the decision to sample what she was offering.” I look up at her with tear-filled eyes. “Right, Kay? I mean, you don’t think Austin is right, do you?”
“Abso-fucking-lutely not,” she says vehemently. “There is no fucking excuse whatso-fucking-ever for a married man to cheat on his wife. None. Not even if Gisele Fucking Bündchen comes in and sits on his dick while wearing goddamn angel wings.”
“I’m totally in agreement,” I mumble to myself as I get up and try to walk away, but my spinning head stops me before I can even take a step. I reach out to steady my woozy self with a hand on the counter. “We need pizza,” I tell Kaleigh as I let go of the counter, mentally crossing my fingers that I don’t fall.
Once the spinning stops, I make my way up the stairs, taking my tight skirt off when I reach my bedroom, and face-planting on my bed. “He’s such an asshole. Right, Kay?” My voice comes out a bit muffled seeing as I’m facedown on the bed.
“I took my Post-it notes. Haha, take that.” I turn my head to the side, away from her. “I think I really liked him,” I admit quietly, while Kaleigh gets on the bed next to me. “I should have known better, right? No happy for me.” My eyes get heavier and heavier as I continue blinking. “I need a little nap,” I whisper right before I drift off to sleep.
Chapter Sixteen
AUSTIN
“Maybe if you loosened up a little, you would still be married.”
As soon as the words left my mouth, I wished I could call them back. I didn’t even have to see her face to know I hurt her. Her body went rigid, and for a moment, I thought she was going to let me have it. Hell, I wish now that she had, because what she gave me instead of the dressing down I deserved was a million times worse. Despite her best efforts to mask it, I don’t think I will ever forget the wounded look on her face. I immediately wanted to pull her into my arms.
I wanted to tell her that I really was an asshat. But instead, I just stood there, watching her pack up all her things, even the fucking Post-its.
When I realized what she was doing, I tried to reach out to her, but she just dodged me and blocked my hands like she was protecting herself—from me—before she turned and practically ran away. And I fucking let her.
As if that were not bad enough, of course, Carmen, Steven, and—even worse—Barbara were all watching and heard the whole thing. Carmen and Steven refused to look at me and quickly dispersed, while Barbara just stood there shaking her head at me in disappointment. “That is going to cost you more than you realize, Austin.” Leaving me with that bit of wisdom, she walked around me and went back to her office.
“Fuck, don’t I know it,” I mutter under my breath as I head into my office, pick up my phone, and try calling Lauren.
No surprise, she must have declined the call, because it goes right to voice mail after two rings. “Motherfucker.”
I try calling her again right away, and as expected, it goes straight to voice mail. “Lauren, please call me back. I want to apologize. I was way out of line,” I say before I finish with a plea. “Please, Lauren, just call me back.”
I end the call and decide to text her.
Call me, please!
I sit at my desk, watching the phone for the gray bubble with those three blinking dots, but they don’t appear. Nothing at all happens. The message isn’t even marked as read. I don’t know how long I stare at my phone willing her to call back or reply, but the next thing I know, Noah comes waltzing in. “Whoa, dude, who killed your dog?” He throws himself into the chair in front of my desk.
“I fucked up,” I confess, looking back down at my phone.
“Nothing new there. What happened now?”
“I may have told Lauren that if she weren’t so uptight and she loosened up a little, that maybe her husband wouldn’t have left her and she would still be married.” I don’t even finish getting the words out before he’s pulling out his phone. “What the fuck are you doing?”
“I’m making sure I clear my schedule for your funeral,” he says, earning himself a glare from me.
“Fuck off, asshole.” It’s the only thing I can say right now. “Let’s go get my car, and then I’ll pass by her house. She has no choice but to answer the door, right?” I ask him as we walk out to the elevator.
I see Barbara come out of her office and head straight for me. Her mouth is pressed together in a tight line. I cut off whatever she’s going to say by holding up my hand and stating, “Not now, Barbara.” I press the elevator button.
“I think my balls just crawled back into my body, and that look wasn’t even directed at me,” Noah murmurs from beside me as we watch Barbara turn and storm away. “If I were you, I wouldn’t drink or eat anything that anyone else, especially someone who is a female or an employee here, offers you,” he advises as he follows me into the elevator.
We make it down to the impound lot, where I fill out all the forms and show all my documents in order to get my car out. It takes about forty-five minutes, and the whole time we’re there, I’ve got my phone in my hand. I’ve tried to call Lauren about fifteen times now, and each time, the call goes straight to voice mail.
Once I get my car out, I make my way over to Lauren�
�s, parking my car at the curb. I take a deep breath, but my door is whipped open. I look up and see Noah.
“As your friend, I’m going to try to talk you out of this.” I shake my head, ignoring him. I get out of the car and walk to her door. “This is a really, really bad idea. Women who are pissed can do evil things. I mean, she wasn’t even that pissed at you when she almost made your balls explode.”
“I have to see her,” I say and then knock on the door. When I hear the locks click open, my heart literally skips a beat and a smile starts to creep across my face. It’s quickly replaced with a frown when I see that it’s Kaleigh who opens the door—with what appears to be a machete in her hand. Okay, so maybe not a real machete, but it sure as hell is a knife that looks like it can easily debone a chicken and probably take off a man’s—hopefully not this man’s—hand. She comes outside, closing the door behind her as the sound of Alanis Morissette is playing in the background.
“You have some nerve showing your face here,” she spits out at me.
“Is Lauren home?” I sound like a dork. Obviously, she’s there, her car is here.
“She is,” she confirms as she sways a little. I look a little closer and can tell that she is totally blitzed.
“Whoa, there, little lady.” Noah wraps an arm around her shoulders to avoid the knife to the dick.
“I need to talk to her,” I say.
“Not going to happen. Not now, not ever.” she continues, “You fucked up bad.” She is now pointing the knife at me, and her voice is rising. “Really, really bad.”
“Babe, can we put the knife down?” Noah pleads with a smile, and she smiles at him while bashfully giggling.
“Can I please just talk to Lauren for two minutes? Then I’ll leave, I promise,” I practically beg.
“Nope,” she replies and then turns around, grabbing the door handle and talking to us over her shoulder. “If you’re not gone in two minutes, I’m calling the cops and telling them you’re stalking me.” I scoff at that, and she glares at me. “And show them the inappropriate dick pics you sent me.”
Tempt The Boss Page 11