1
Jessica
I stare at my boss and wonder if the time has finally come to find a sharp instrument to stab him to death with. “You’re not serious?”
My mind runs through options.
A fishing spear could work.
I’ve never used one, don’t know how to use one, and don’t know where to obtain one, but I’ve never let a lack of knowledge deter me.
If a fishing spear is what it will take to get the job done, I will make it my mission to learn everything I need to know about them.
“I’m deadly serious,” he says in the way only Ashton Scott says things.
No, maybe not a fishing spear.
I’m more feeling a frying pan.
And yes, I know that’s not the kind of weapon an intelligent murderer would choose, but it’s the kind of weapon that would give me great satisfaction.
I could really take my time with a frying pan.
Ooh, maybe an iron.
Make him burn while beating him to death.
“Jessica,” he snaps. “Make it happen.”
Definitely an iron, and a frying pan, and then a fishing spear.
And maybe a gun to finish him off.
Just to ensure the job is completed.
I never like to leave a job unfinished.
“So let me get this straight, you think I can singlehandedly organise a gathering in another country, between you and two other men like you, and when I say ‘like you’, I don’t mean assholes, I mean men who are far too busy to take even an hour out of their schedule to meet and discuss a new business idea, let alone take two days out of their schedule to do that. You also think I can do this in the space of a day. And on top of that, you think it’s not unreasonable to ask me to also organise two days of whatever their partners would like to do. By the close of business tomorrow. Along with completing all my other jobs.”
This man has no idea how hard it is to align schedules between busy people.
He’s also a little clueless as to my standard workload.
Not to mention the attention required to organise everything from Australia.
Honestly, I should school him.
He rises from his chair behind that desk of his. The desk that’s currently keeping him alive. “Do I need to hire you an assistant to help you get this job done?”
I cock my head and narrow my eyes at him. “Is it Monday today?”
His lips press together. “You’re wasting time.”
I uncock my head and nod. “We’re definitely in the middle of a Monday rerun. That’s the only excuse I can come up with for your attitude. And let me just say, once again in case you’ve forgotten, I am not a fan of Asshole Mondays.”
Asshole Monday: the day during which Ashton Scott unleashes his worst asshole tendencies after a bad weekend.
I thought we were done with Asshole Mondays now that Ashton has Lorelei in his life. It turns out I was wrong. And boy will I be sorting this out fast, because if I have to endure another round of Asshole Mondays, I will most definitely learn everything there is to know about fishing spears.
Is that what they’re called?
Hmm, that’s something to add to my to-do list at the very least.
Learn the correct name for the weapon Ashton may die from.
He scowls before dragging his fingers through his hair. “For God’s sake, Jessica, enough with the Monday bullshit. If you must have it, take an extra day to organise everything.”
I shoot him a look. The look that lets him know this conversation may be over for now, but that it will be revisited. “I’m meeting Lorelei for lunch. I’ll be sure to pass on the news that Asshole Monday has now morphed into Testicular Tuesday.” At his slight frown, I elaborate, “As in, it’s balls and I’ve had enough.” With one last arch of my brows to convey my absolute dislike of his mood today and my insistence that he pay attention to everything I’ve said, I exit his office and make my way to mine.
Preposterous.
That’s what he is.
Un-fucking-believable, im-fucking-possible, and over-fucking-bearing.
And yet, here I am, still working with him after six years.
He’s lucky I have feelings for him other than murderous ones.
Feelings that involve care, and concern, and friendship.
Feelings I don’t bother with when it comes to most people.
No, most people are too much work for me, especially when the few I’ve gathered in close are already a ton of hard work. They leave me little time to spread my love to others, which I am perfectly good with. The fewer humans in my life, the better.
My phone buzzes with a text as I frown at the parcel sitting on my desk. The parcel that wasn’t there earlier.
Mike: You free tonight? We could get a drink.
We could also not get a drink.
I place my phone on the desk without replying. The fact I’m not inclined to text him straight back tells me everything I need to know. I’m done with seeing him. This is a fact I already knew, but since he hasn’t texted me in over a week, I haven’t had to deal with it.
Mike was fun.
A fun fling in a long line of them, but lately, I’ve been feeling done with fun.
I can’t explain it, and certainly don’t understand it, but I can’t muster up the energy to get excited for a date, let alone go on one.
If I didn’t know better, I’d say I was going through a mid-life crisis.
Since I’m three months shy of thirty, I can’t attribute it to that, so for now I’m refraining from thinking about it.
Another text comes through as I inspect the parcel on my desk. It has no sender information on it, which always makes me suspicious.
Lorelei: I’m going to be late for lunch. Sorry! Can we push it half an hour?
Jessica: Sure. It’ll give me longer to stew over Ashton’s return to Asshole Monday. You should prepare yourself to hear all about it.
Lorelei: Oh God. He was a little moody this morning. Please work that out of him by tonight.
Jessica: I’ll add it to my long to-do list.
Lorelei: You know what’s causing it, right?
Jessica: No earthly idea. You should enlighten me.
Lorelei: Shit, I have to go. I’ll catch you up at lunch xx
Jesus.
Way to leave a girl hanging.
Distracting myself from that, I stare at Mike’s text for a minute before making the decision to own my current mood on dating.
Jessica: Hey, I’m taking a break from drinks for a while.
Mike: And when you say ‘drinks’ you mean dating?
Jessica: Yeah.
Mike: All good. Hit me up when you finish your break.
I place my phone on my desk and suck in a long breath.
I close my eyes as I let it out.
Whatever is running through me these days needs to move on.
This isn’t new territory just this week or this month. This has been going on for a good five months. The last thing I want is to blow off some good sex, but that’s exactly what I’ve been doing.
I don’t do relationships. I do fun. With Mike. With Melanie. With Lisa. With whoever I find that offers me a no-strings-attached good time. However, I’ve slowly pushed them all away. Mike’s the last one, and the fact I’d rather head home after my gym session tonight and paint my nails while watching the latest episode of Ted Lasso tells me there’s something very wrong with me.