by Amali Rose
“You fell asleep during a meeting?” Skye’s voice is brimming with barely concealed mirth. I nod my head solemnly. “So, to clarify, you fell asleep during a meeting, and then while you were asleep, you had a dirty dream about Chris Pratt—during which time, you made sex noises. And let’s be clear, I was your roommate for four years, I know that your sex noises are loud and proud. That would have been quite... the aural delight for a bunch of middle-aged tax accountants, Cass.” Wyatt slaps a hand over her mouth in what I assume is an attempt to hide the unattractive snort laugh that follows Skye’s statement.
“Okay, it wasn’t my finest moment, I am fully prepared to admit that. But I really think that thundercunt, Connors, overreacted. I mean if anything, a woman of my stature giving the old hornballs a show like that, would have helped them get that account.”
“A woman of your stature?” Wyatt enquires.
“Yes, Red,” I answer, trying to keep the exasperation from my voice. “I am young and hot, therefore of a high stature.” I turn to Skye. “That works, yeah?” Her only response is a sigh.
“What are you going to do, Cass? Do you have any savings? You can always come and stay with Ben and I.” I cringe at the thought. As much as I love my best friend, and as much as I love tormenting her boyfriend, staying with the recently reconciled couple is not in my plans.
“Thanks for the offer, Skyeballs, and as much as I would love to stay with the bonk buddies, if I was going to crash with anyone, it would be Red over here,” I respond, pointing my finger at Wyatt.
Her eyes widen in surprise, with just a tiny hint of horror. To be honest, I’m slightly offended.
“Oh, yeah, of course, Sweetie. You can stay with me as long as you like.”
“Relax, Wyatt.” I let her off the hook. “I have the money that I was saving for a new oven. I’m good for a couple of months at least.” Sighing, I finally allow the strain of today to wash over me, and my shoulders slump.
“Maybe you should take this as a sign, Cassidy.” I glance up at Wyatt, as Skye sucks in a breath and starts bouncing in her seat.
“Yesssss, Cass! This is it! It’s time for you to start focusing on your business! With no day job distracting you, you can start taking on more baking jobs. You’ve been wanting to do this for years, killing yourself to get orders done around work hours. This is perfect!” She claps her hands, practically giddy.
“Slow your roll there, Balls. That “distraction” pays the bills, you know.” My brain is scrambling, trying to come up with a valid reason why I couldn’t try to kickstart my business. You know, other than because I’m scared shitless of failing. Because scared is the one thing I will never admit to being.
“It’s not that easy, my schnookums. Every chick and her cute little fluffy dog has a cupcake business these days. It would take months, fuck maybe even years, to get something off the ground, let alone something successful enough that I could quit working.” I lean back in the booth and take in my girls’ eager faces.
“Goddammit, if I have to be the voice of reason here, we’re in a fuckload of trouble, you realize that, right?”
Skye tilts her head to the side, a cute little mannerism she has when she’s thinking, and carefully considers everything I have said.
“What if you could find some part-time office work, you know, a few days a week, and then you could bake the rest of the week?”
I consider this seriously. It would be great to have more time to take on extra orders. I have a small group of loyal customers who are constantly referring people to me, I just haven’t had the time to say yes to them. And I would still have the safety net of a secure, paying job (as long as I could manage to stay awake from now on, that is).
“That might work,” I say slowly. “It actually might be perfect.” The tension starts to evaporate as I feel myself settling into this idea, and my stomach comes alive, rumbling loudly.
“Ugh, where’s our food, Red? I’m starving!” My eyes scan the diner, and I release a little shriek when I see Brenda, who is working the dinner shift, headed our way with a tray full of food.
“Just a heads up, you biatches are buying me dinner tonight; we’re celebrating.” Holding up my water glass, I raise it high. “Cheers to Mr. Pratt and his talented dream tongue. Without whom, this opportunity never would have been thrust upon me. Much like his tongue thrust—”
“Lalalalalala.” Wyatt covers her ears.
“We get the idea!” Skye shrieks.
“Jesus, when did you girls get so prudish? Fine,” I raise my glass once again, “here’s to part-time work. May it be easy to find, and even easier to stay awake through.”
Mason
Fuck. Fucking, motherfucker.
I glare at the computer screen, doing everything in my power to maintain control.
Mason,
Lauren from HR has been in contact to inform me that you postponed the assistant interviews last month, and have yet to reschedule them.
Let me remind you that the temp is only contracted until the end of this week, and when I return next week I will only be working 2 days. It is urgent that you find a permanent assistant for the remaining 3 days as soon as possible.
Regards,
Tanya.
P.S. Get your shit together, Mason. I have a baby now, I can’t be working around the clock for you. You better have hired someone by the time I’m back or I’m going to kick your ass. Sir.
Reaching over, I press the button on the intercom and wait for the static to subside before barking out, “Denielle, get in here. Now!”
Ten seconds later, my temp, or as I like to call her, the pain in my ass, ambles into my office, already playing nervously with her auburn hair. She looks lost and a tiny bit terrified. Good.
“You rescheduled those assistant interviews like I asked, didn’t you?”
Her eyes widen, and I can practically see her mind working overtime in an effort to find a plausible excuse for her incompetence. Incompetence that I have been suffering through for the last four months.
“Sir, I am so sorry. I meant to do it a couple of weeks ago. In fact, I wrote it on a Post-it note and stuck it to my computer, but it must have gotten thrown out when I cleaned my desk. At your insistence.” My mind wanders briefly to that day, when after waiting twenty-five minutes for her to find one file, I demanded she clean the sty she called a desk. However, my thoughts are cut off when Denielle continues, “You really should have reminded me, sir.”
I feel my temper flame, the back of my neck burning as I let those words sink in.
“Denielle, you are my assistant. I give you tasks to complete, and it is your job to do them. You are not a child, and you damn well shouldn’t need me riding you constantly to do your job properly.” I am doing my best to reign in my annoyance, but as I stare at the woman in front of me, who is staring back somewhat defiantly, I am struggling. “Get on the phone to HR right now, and get as many of those interviews rescheduled for tomorrow as you can.”
Turning to leave, Denielle bolts for the door, eager to make her escape.
“Denielle?” She stops abruptly and turns to face me, almost reluctantly. “You can be assured that my dissatisfaction with your performance these last few months will be noted in my report to your agency.” Her face starts to crumple, but I turn away and redirect my attention toward my computer screen before I can see any tears.
“The interviews, Denielle. Now, please.”
Three hours later, I’m fucking livid as I am informed that none of the prospective assistants are still available, and while HR are scrambling to find new candidates, it’s unlikely to happen before the end of the week.
Rubbing my forehead, where I can feel the onset of the mother of all headaches, I grimace as I imagine all the ways Tanya is going to make me suffer for this monumental screw up.
My cell begins vibrating on the desk, and the sound of the phone scratching along the surface irritates my already frayed nerves. Snatching it up, I answer unthinkin
gly, my mind still stuck on the assistant problem.
“What?”
“Jesus, man, what crawled up your ass?” I sigh as the voice of my best friend, Ben, snaps back at me.
“An incompetent idiot masquerading as an assistant, that’s what. What do you want, Mackinnon?”
“I’m just reminding you that you agreed to play basketball with the guys tonight. I’m the lucky bastard that got tasked with getting your ass down there. So be there, asshole.”
“Ah, fuck.” Scrubbing a hand over my face, I mentally scan my afternoon schedule. “I’m not sure I can. I have a conference call at four, which could last either five minutes or five hours, depending on how assholery my client is feeling today. Then I’m probably going to have to redraft a contract...” My voice trails off as my eyes jump around the office. As if somehow I’ll find the answer amongst the modern, streamlined furniture that I hate. I could delegate the conference call to Samuels, my second in command. He has been asking for more responsibility, but I’m the first to admit that I suck at giving up control. “No, okay, I’ll be there.”
“Yeah?” Ben sounds doubtful, and I can’t say I blame him.
“Count me in. Six, like usual?”
“Yeah. Got time for a beer after?”
My first instinct is to refuse, but after the day I’ve had, the idea of returning to the office with takeout that will end up cold and uneaten, holds little appeal.
“Yeah, that’d be good. See you then.” Hanging up, I lean back in my chair and close my eyes, giving myself a moment as the stress of the day gets to be too much. The past year, since being appointed to CEO of Cook Enterprises, has been everything I thought it would be. Hard work, long days and every moment of elation has been countered by ten moments of frustration. But I knew it would be like this going into the role; it’s what I expected. And yet I don’t feel the sense of satisfaction I had anticipated. I’m right where I’ve always wanted to be. Where I’ve worked so hard to be. But it never seems to get easier. The work hours don’t get any shorter, and the huge title that has been bestowed upon me seems to weigh me down, rather than give me the freedom I had always expected. In short, I’m beginning to question if everything I fought for, and sacrificed, has been worth it.
I almost groan out loud as the whiskey is slid in front of me, my lips twitching in anticipation. Out the corner of my eye I see Ben watching me with a quirked eyebrow. Choosing to ignore him, I raise the glass to my lips, and take my first sip of the amber liquid, letting the burn calm my mind.
“How have you been, man? I feel like I haven’t seen you in months. You still dating that girl, Stella?”
“I don’t know if you could call it dating, she’s as busy as I am. We hook up every so often.” I can see the cogs turning in Ben’s head, and I know what’s coming. Since he met his girlfriend, Skye, he’s been a lovesick idiot, and he’s lucky I’m as busy as I am, or he would be getting a lot more shit about it. But my arrangement with Stella works. She is one of the top lawyers in New York, at the top of her game. She’s smart, elegant and all class. The epitome of everything I should be looking for in a woman. The reality however, is that neither of us have time to dedicate to a relationship, so we settle for a casual fuck whenever the tension gets too much. Speaking of which, it’s probably time I gave her a call.
“You know, Mase, maybe it’s time to start looking for something serious? You’re almost thirty years old, man, aren’t you tired of fucking around? What about your new assistant, is she hot? You spend most of your life at that place, maybe a little office romance could lead to something more?”
“You do realize you’re sounding like my mother, right?” My lips tilt up in a small smirk before the mention of my assistant brings my mood crashing back down. “Besides, don’t even get me started on the shit show that hiring a new assistant has turned into. Somehow, the temp screwed up and now I am assistant-less on the days Tanya isn’t working. She’s going to cut my balls off with a blunt and rusty knife when she finds out.”
Ben cringes, his hand subconsciously goes straight to his dick, which provides me with my first laugh of the day.
After ordering another whiskey, I turn back to Ben and am faced with an expression I haven’t seen in a long time. In fact, the last time I saw that face was when he decided it would be a great idea to streak across our college campus, naked. In the middle of January. It’s a good bet that whatever he’s about to propose will end just as badly.
“Cassidy got fired yesterday.”
I try to follow his train of thought. I’ve only had one drink so it shouldn’t be too hard, but fucked if I know what he’s talking about.
“Okay? Sucks to be Cassidy, I guess.” Ben nods his head, as though this conversation didn’t just take a weird-as-fuck turn. “Who the hell is Cassidy, BJ?”
Ben glares at me, his eyes squinting in that way they do anytime I use his initials.
“She’s Skye’s best friend, loser, and if you ever tell her that my initials are BJ, I will fucking take you down.”
“Best friend? You mean the crazy one?” I vaguely remember Ben telling me she had a mouth on her that would rival Kanye.
“I mean, she’s not actually crazy.” His brow furrows. “At least I’m pretty sure she’s not. She did threaten to cut off my dick once, though, so I guess it’s a coin toss.” Again, his hand finds his junk as though checking to make sure it’s still there. “Anyway, she works as an admin assistant, and has heaps of experience. She could probably help you out. Even if it’s only temporarily. It might keep your balls safe from Tanya, anyway.” Pausing, he lifts his beer to his mouth and takes a long pull before regarding me with a look of confusion. “Why the fuck are the women in our lives so determined to cut our junk off?”
I huff out a laugh, before considering what he’s said.
“Why did she get fired?”
Ben’s eyes immediately leave mine and fall to the floor. A sure sign that he’s about to lie his ass off.
“Uh, I’m not really sure… but I’m positive it wasn’t anything serious. Nothing like falling asleep in a meeting.” His right hand nervously grasps his neck and begins rubbing.
“Wait, that was really random, why would you—”
“Mase,” he cuts me off, before I can finish forming my thought. “Do you really have any other option? She’s the answer to your prayers, even if it’s only for a couple of weeks. What do you have to lose?”
I sigh in resignation as I contemplate what he has said. Eyeing off the golden liquid in the tumbler I’m holding, I toss it back and slam the glass down on the bar.
“Can she start on Monday?”
Cassidy
My heels click loudly on the marble floor as I hastily make my way through the cavernous lobby of the Cook Enterprises’ office building. This morning could not have been more of a shit show. After staying up until two o’clock this morning, trying to perfect a new banoffee cupcake recipe, I slept through my alarm. Or I forgot to set it. Either way, the result was me having to haul ass today, my first day in a new job. Add to that no hot water, and then not being able to find a clean bra, I was ready to fuck today right off.
I impatiently tap my fingernails on my purse as I wait for the elevator to arrive, and as I step inside I attempt to compose myself in the thirty seconds or so I have before I have to face the dreaded Mason Alexander.
Skye has been preparing me all weekend for the job. Apparently, this guy is a complete workaholic who buries himself in paperwork with no time for anything, or anyone, else. So, you know, your average white-collar asshole. I roll my eyes at the memory of Skye’s denial. “No, Cass, he’s really very sweet. He’s just… focused, that’s all.” Whatever. I’ve dealt with the worst, and one cunt cracker is the same as the next.
As the elevator dings its arrival at the seventy-fourth floor, I quickly smooth down my newly pinked hair. It was a moment of madness the day after my dismissal, and I had assumed I would have time to change it back to my nat
ural blonde before I started interviewing. This job fell in my lap though, and I figure that technically I am the one doing the favor here, so Mr. Alexander will just have to deal.
I step out of the elevator into the most luxurious office space I have ever seen. My heels immediately sink into the plush carpet, and I am already itching to yank these torture devices off my feet and feel the lushness beneath them barefoot. However, a quick glance around at all the buttoned-up suits bustling through the space, tells me that wouldn’t be the smartest thing to do.
I head over to what appears to be the receptionist for the floor, and introduce myself.
“Miss. Jensen, I’m Kimberly, it’s lovely to meet you. I’m afraid you are quite late, and Mr. Alexander is a little… um… irate?” Kimberly’s kind face is creased in concern, and I find myself anxious to soothe her concerns.
“Oh, yeah, this morning has been a royal fuck up since the minute I opened my eyes, Kim, can I call you Kim? Just point me toward Mr. Alexander’s office and I will have him sorted in no time.” I throw her a wink for good measure. Never let them see you sweat, right? Fake it ‘til you make it, and all that shit.
Kimberly’s eyes widen in surprise before a small smile appears.
“Straight down that hall,” she points to her right, “it’s the suite of offices at the very end. I’m sure you’ll hear him.” She smiles broadly at that. “I would wish you good luck, but somehow I think Mr. Alexander is the one that needs it.”
Smirking, I thank her and head to face the music.
As I approach the office, I realize that Kim wasn’t joking. I hear a strong, distinctly masculine voice, that I have no doubt could talk the panties off any girl under normal circumstances. Unfortunately for me, on this occasion the voice also sounds distinctly pissed off.