Bossy (16 page)

Or I could just go and rearrange this guy’s face, and maybe the rest of him too. It’s seriously tempting, but not an ideal solution.

In the long run, at least.

Look at me, thinking ahead. Dad would be proud. “And if I do this, you’re going to destroy that video, right? Permanently? Because if you don’t, I won’t have anything to lose.” I put all the menace I can into my voice. “And if I don’t have anything to lose, I will come for you. Is that fucking clear?”

His reply is the meekest he’s been since this damn call started. “Yes. Clear.”

“Good.” I hang up.

This day has gone from bad, to fantastic, to craptacular, to I don’t even know what the fuck it is now. It’s like soap-opera level shit.

And I still don’t have a fucking cup of coffee.

“W
hat do lawyers get when you give them Viagra?”

Carl grins like a little boy while chewing his donut, which is a little disconcerting, to be honest. Still, he’s one of the few people I’ll miss when this job is over. He’s silly and a little crazy, but he’s nice enough and he seems to like me. Given how cool things have been between Declan and me since we made the mistake of crossing the line, I’ll take any friendly faces I can get.

I’ve picked out a chocolate glazed from the box, and I’m eating while standing with him. It’s getting to be a bit of a morning routine for us. It was only supposed to be Fridays, but what can I say? I'm weak. A few quiet moments before I head deeper into the maw of the beast. God knows I need all the positives I can find these days. Carl definitely isn’t complaining.

Eying Carl, I sigh and give up. “I don’t know. What do they get?”

“Taller.” He laughs out loud, apparently finding his own joke hilarious.

I laugh, but raise an eyebrow at him. “What about us lady lawyers? Hm?”

He actually cocks his head and thinks about it. “You know, that’s a good point. I’m going to have to get back to you on that one. I might need to update the ol’ repertoire.”

“Well I’ve got one for you then. How is an intern different from a clay pot?”

For once it’s Carl’s turn to look at me blankly. “I don’t know, how?”

“Only one of them wants to get fired.” I give him a wink. “Time to get to work. Declan’s been on my ass lately about being on time.”

Carl chuckles at my attempt to be clever, and licks the last of his donut off his fingers. “He’s the last person who should complain about punctuality.”

I shrug. “Right? But whatever. He’s the boss.”

“The story of my life, girly.” Carl turns back to his desk and then snaps his fingers like he just remembered something. “Oh, you know about the summer party on Friday right? Half day—where pretty much nothing gets done—and then we party the rest of it.” He grins, obviously looking forward to it.

“Yeah, I heard yesterday. Is it really that much fun?” I try to picture Garrett cutting loose and can’t do it. Declan maybe, but his dad? No way.

“You’d be surprised.” Carl wiggles his eyebrows. “Besides, it’s worth it just to get out of wearing the same old thing every day. Say hi to Mr. Grumpy-pants for me.”

I smile and nod, not letting on to how small the chance is that Declan and I will even exchange words in person. We’ve gone email only, and it’s easier on my head and my heart. At this point I’m done trying to figure him out. I’ll be happy if I can just get through the rest of my internship with my dignity intact.

It’s been two days since Michael called, and I haven’t heard any more from him. That video is like the Sword of Damocles hanging over my head. If he uploads that anywhere, my life’s basically over. Google never forgets. School, job, family. I shudder at the thought. Can I really stay strong?

I’ve been trying to decide if I should just get it over with and at least tell my mother, because if he sends that out, well... It’d be better if she found out from me first. Right?

Now that’s a mother-daughter talk I’m not looking forward to.

I don’t know Garrett well enough to say if it would screw up their wedding plans or not. How would he react? Would he dump Mom rather than have an amateur porn star for a stepdaughter? I’m not exactly a celebrity, but his business reputation is important to him and people would definitely talk. I almost regret not just going along with Michael's demands, at least until after the wedding is over.

I don’t know what I’ll say on Friday when he calls back, but the idea of Michael taking me out and putting his hands on me, kissing me...

Ugh.

Unlike Declan, who makes my blood boil, but my heart beat faster. I smile and give a wave to one of the paralegals as I pass her desk. Nobody has said anything, but I feel like everyone knows something happened. They must be able to tell we are barely speaking to each other.

Entering my office, I set the donuts down and plop into my chair. Dad’s picture is there, reminding me every morning about the cost a bad decision can make. I trace the frame with a finger, wishing for the thousandth time that he had been around long enough to give me advice.

All I can do now is learn from his mistakes. The lessons he taught me have been painful, but valuable. Don’t settle for less than you’re worth, and that mistakes can only steal your future if you let them.

Saying no is the right decision, it’s just not the easy one. For either of my dilemmas. I deserve more than Michael gave me, and I deserve more than Declan is offering.

Speak of the devil. “Hey, you’re on time today.” Declan strolls in the door, talking like I haven’t been all week. He grabs his obligatory Boston creme out of the donut box.

He hasn’t stopped taking them, but he definitely checks a little more closely before biting in. I should stop buying them, but that feels petty. Besides, it’s a funny memory, and I actually miss having him as a sparring partner. At least a little.

Instead of heading into his office without a word like he usually does, Declan sits himself down on my desk, taking his sweet time to finish his donut before he says anything. If there’s anything he’s an expert at, it’s being annoying.

I suppose I can’t just email him the hell off my desk. “Can I help you?”

He grins, huge. “So, you got your costume ready for Friday?” As if we never argued.

“Costume?”

“Yeah. For the summer party. Best costume gets some fancy weekend getaway deal. I’m trying to decide between a werewolf and a biker. I’ve already got the tattoos, but I don’t know, they both seem sort of overdone. You know?” He grins, as if he’s already imagining himself winning first prize. “Oh wait! I know. I’ll go as Greg, and you go as Marcia! Hah! It would be hilarious.”

Yeah.... not a chance.

This sounds too much like a trap. “You’re not tricking me this time. Nice try, though.”

“What? You think I’m trying to get you again?” He gives me a look of outraged innocence, hands out and his eyes big and guileless. God, those eyes.

I tear myself away. “Yeah, I do. Show me proof and maybe I’ll believe you.”

“Alright, hold on.” He walks out of the office, and I watch him through my window as he stops at the bulletin board near the reception and pulls something off before coming back.

Slapping a piece of paper down at my desk, he looks at me with a satisfied grin. “Here. Read this. Right from the announcement board.”

––––––––

2015 SUMMER PARTY

FRIDAY, JULY 17TH

PRIZE FOR BEST COSTUME!

JUDGING DURING MORNING ASSEMBLY

CAFETERIA AT 9 AM

––––––––

“S
ee?” he gloats. “So what do you think? If you don’t want to be my Brady, I bet you’d look hot in a belly dancer outfit.”

“I thought the party wasn’t until the afternoon. I think you’re faking.” It’s hard to trust anything coming out of his mouth.

He cocks his head. “Haven’t you ever worked anywhere on Halloween? We work half the day, but it’s ‘work,’ if you know what I mean.” He makes air quotes. “No customer meetings are scheduled, everyone comes in with their costumes on, and it gets the office all festive from the get-go. Then we get down in the cafeteria for the rest of the day. And out drinking afterwards.”

It actually sounds kind of fun, and it’s nice to be joking around with him again. Against my better judgment I give him a little smile. “I’ll think about it.”

“Nice.” He laughs. “Just don’t outshine me, you know? I hate to lose.”

God, I’d love to get the chance to one-up him in something, but I still don’t completely believe this is real. On my way out to lunch, I stop to talk to Carl.

“So... for Friday. Do you know what you’re wearing?” I try to act casual. Just the new girl making small talk.

“Did Declan warn you?” Carl laughs and slaps his desk in amusement. “It took me weeks to find something perfect, but trust me, you’ll die when you see me. This chance only comes around once a year. No way I’m wasting it.”

My head had been full of visions of ending up like Carrie at the prom, except in a cafeteria and with spicy mayo all over my head. Carl’s enthusiasm about dressing up for the party helps calm my nerves.

“Oh yeah, absolutely. I can’t wait.” Now I just have to figure out what the heck to wear on such short notice. I don’t really care if I win, but it would be nice to surprise Declan.

“H
ey, sweet pea. Am I calling at a bad time?” Michael’s voice oozes out of the phone.

“Yeah, kind of.” Any time he calls is a bad time, but I’m already running late, so this is worse than usual. “What do you want?”

“It’s Friday, remember? I’m calling to see if you’ve changed your mind. Last chance.”

Hell no, not on his life, but after some soul searching, I’ve decided to play along until after the wedding. Once I know that’s out of the way, he can do his worst. Or maybe I’ll find some way to get out of it altogether. I need to play for more time, either way. I sigh as if he’s finally worn me down. “What would you want me to do?”

“Seriously? You’re actually—” He breaks off. There’s a pause at the other end before his gleeful voice comes through. “I knew you’d come around. We’ll start easy. A date. Monday night? At Figaro’s? I’m buying.”

I try to think of any reason out of a million that Monday’s bad, but other than not wanting to see his cheating-ass face, I don’t have one. “Fine. Monday. Don’t expect too much.”

Like, anything.

“I knew you’d see it my way eventually. Don’t worry, baby. All you need to bring is yourself.” I can practically hear the big shit-eating grin on his face. “I’ll pick you up at six.”

And let him be in charge of my ability to leave? No thanks. “No, I’ll meet you at the restaurant. Figaro’s, Monday, six o’clock. I’ll be there.” I hang up without bothering with goodbyes or waiting to hear him argue about who’s driving.

It’s only a dinner, and it’s in a public place. I can deal with him once or twice before Mom’s big day is over. Unless he tries something, in which case all bets are off. I should probably look up tips on hiding a body beforehand.

Just in case.

And on Declan’s laptop.

I slide my phone into my purse with a shudder, and give my girls a jiggle to make sure they’re firmly in place in my bikini. Pacing back and forth in the little space the elevator gives me, I glare at the floor counter. Thirty-three, thirty-four, thirty-five... Each floor takes forever to pass.

The morning assembly started at nine, and it’s already 9:03. If I’d gotten dressed before leaving the house I would’ve been fine, but I had nightmares about getting pulled over in my costume and chickened out. I used one of the downstairs bathrooms so I wouldn’t run into anyone.

I’m pretty proud of my costume, even if it was last minute. Thanks to YouTube, Pinterest, and some old Halloween bits and pieces, my hula girl outfit is pretty rocking if I do say so myself. And I do.

It’s a little skimpy, but strategically placed material that matches my skin tone makes it look more risqué than it really is. The skirt rustles and flows around my knees, giving the illusion of sky high views up to my thighs. Colorful silk flowers are everywhere, around my waist, neck, bikini-top and even my wrists.

When I get to the office, there’s nobody in sight. Everyone is already at the meeting. I drop my bag of regular clothes on my desk and high-tail it to the cafeteria as fast as I can without having my costume fly to pieces. I’m bringing my coat, though, just in case.

The sounds of laughing and clapping spill out the doors as I get close. Cheering even. It does sound like there’s a party going on. Hopefully I’m not too late. Dropping my coat on a bench in the hall, I prepare to make a grand entrance. I’ll get it later. I push open the doors and stride in.

“Thank you. As you know, this acquisition should bring us twenty-three new attorneys, which will increase our capacity greatly. Nothing official, but I’m forecasting...” Garrett trails off mid-sentence when he looks up to see me in all of my Hawaiian glory in front of the still swinging doors. He’s standing on a makeshift podium, and on a screen behind him is some sort of presentation with graphs and pie charts and big dollar values. For several long moments, there’s just an awkward silence.

He’s wearing jeans.

Just about every employee in all of Riordan & Flynn is here, the cafeteria packed. Slowly, one by one, they turn towards me. When the door clicks loudly shut behind me, there are only a couple who’re not looking in my direction with big eyes. Someone laughs, a few more follow.

I can barely breathe.

The room is full of employees in casual clothes, but I’m the only one wearing anything more exciting than a polo shirt. Their expressions range from shock to amusement, to flat out disgust.

My stomach drops. There is no contest. There never was. Maybe there’s a party, but it’s definitely not begun yet. My face burns and my chest tightens. Keeping a straight face is hard when you feel like you’re about to break down.

All I’d wanted was to get through the week with my dignity intact. Apparently that was too much to ask. “I—I’m sorry. I thought—this isn’t—” What am I supposed to say?

Standing near the back on my right, my eyes meet Declan’s. I expect to see nothing but glee on his face, but he looks shocked, and maybe even a little bit guilty. It'd better be guilt. I hope he rots in hell with this moment in his head.