Page 34 of Over My Dead Boss
Of course, if he wasn’t in the shower with someone else…
“You slayed the dragon and released the peasants.”
His mouth opens but not a tone escapes.
“See, I thought I just caught you in flagranti, with your affair in the shower. Sorry for the, uh, intrusion, by the way. But that wasn’t it. You just dehorned the unicorn, roughed up the suspect, you had a date with Palmela Handerson.” I chuckle at the fact that he used to be a Baywatch fan and am a little embarrassed I brought the subject up in the first place.
Phoenix’s mouth is still ajar as he drives the car down a long and empty road that I don’t think I’ve been on before.
“It’s ok. Nothing to be ashamed of. We all do it.”
“Slayed the dragon, dehorned the unicorn…” he mumbles. “I think it’s tall time I read your book. What did you say it was about again?”
“Smooth. You’re very good at changing the subject, Mister. But I’ll allow it. It’s an erotic paranormal romance with thriller elements, is what I would say. As you can probably tell, I have thought a lot aboutslaying dragonsin the mostsensualway and I figured what could be more romantic than a couple killing together? So that’s where the thriller element comes in. I’ve been publishing my work, mostly fanfics, online for quite some time, actually.”
Phoenix keeps asking questions and I supply answers. It is only then that I realize how easy it is to talk to him, how comfortable I have gotten in his presence. It’s almost like his true colors are beginning to shine through his grouchy veneer. Eventually, we get to the next biggest city. He explains that there aren’t many options to buy glasses in our little university town, which is why he took me here. Of course, before we can get to the glasses, as promised, we stop by a diner to have some proper breakfast and coffee. Afterwards, we head straight for the optical center in a big superstore.
“Hm,” I say as we enter. “Do billionaires buy things at superstores? I know we’ve been to a supermarket before, but I always kind of assumed people would just bring you everything you need from the secret billionaire store, that you would have a person who would take care of things for you. I’m surprised that isn’t the case.”
Phoenix holds the door for me and I could swear I catch him glance at my butt as I pass. “Well,” he says. “I do have an assistant/editor/bodyguard, so…”
“Oh, right. You should consider giving her a raise. I heard there have been rumors about unionizing.”
The clerk at the store greets us and cuts our conversation short. “Hello,” he sounds annoyed just by our presence. “I’m John Jackson. What do you want?”
Before I can answer, Phoenix nods politely and takes the reins. “She needs new reading glasses. I’d like you to check her eyes for everything you can. I am not really sure how it works. Just do all the checks to see if her eyes are fine.”
I feel small next to him. Small in a good way. Protected. I also feel like he is being unreasonable. “That won’t be necessary,” I address the clerk. “I know my prescription. I just need a new pair of reading glasses. The cheap ones over there will do just fine.”
The clerk’s eyes switch from me to Phoenix and back, unsure of what to do, until Phoenix gently puts his hand on my neck and carefully guides me towards the examining machines. “I assume this is where you do your tests?” he asks and pushes me down into the chair.
The clerk, who I now realize is probably an optometrist, sighs and rolls his eyes, reluctantly takes a seat on the other side of the machine, gives me a glassy stare and begins to calibrate the instrument. I look through the sockets and at a picture that keeps going blurry until my eyes can focus on it over and over again. We also do the eye chart thing, another machine that blows air into my eyes and a manual exam where the guy looks at my eyes himself. All of it seems like an overkill if I have ever seen one, but Phoenix keeps asking questions all the way through, making sure Mr. Jackson pays close attention to what he’s doing. The optometrist says something about a phoropter, keratometer, autorefractor and something called the corneal topographer and I have absolutely no clue what any of it means, until, finally, we’re done.
“You’re lucky your… boyfriend is so insistent,” he finally says with what appears to be a bit of condescension towards Phoenix in his voice. “You probably wouldn’t have neededallof those tests, buthe,” the optometrist motions toward the man hovering behind me, “is kind of scary, so I just did them anyway.”
I laugh a little and remember how I felt the first time I met Phoenix. “He only seems scary. He’s actually quite docile. Almost house trained, too!” Phoenix sighs behind me. “Oh, and he isn’t my boyfriend.”
“Right, I’m her husband. Now, you were saying, Mr. Jackson. What’s up with her eyes?”
“Oh,” the optometrist says, his gaze still locked on me. “I didn’t see a ring, so I assumed he was your boyfriend.”
The impatient huff from Phoenix makes my hair dance a little. “We got matching tramp stamps instead of rings when we got married. Now, please. Her eyes.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Mr. Jackson rolls his own eyes once more. “It’s nothing too serious. But you do have slightly advanced astigmatism, which means your cornea, or the clear front part of the eyeball, isn’t completely round. It’s fairly common and can probably be fixed with some corrective lenses, but if you had waited much longer, surgery might have been necessary. So I guess it’s good that you came.” His tone says otherwise.
“Oh,” I let out, somewhat shocked. “Thank god I only need glasses. Wouldn’t wanna have to pay for surgery. Probably couldn’t even pay for surgery. Ha. I’ll have to thank Dog for destroying my old pair of glasses.”
“Right. Anyway, choose a frame and we’ll get the corrective lenses made. They should be ready in a couple of days and you can come and pick them up or we can send them to your house.”
Together we look at the vast selection of frames and I make Phoenix try several of them on for my entertainment before I choose a few for myself. Mr. Jackson is getting more and more impatient the more frames I try on. When I finally find a full-rimmed pair I think goes great with my sexy librarian bun, he shakes his head. “The style of glasses changes with the times, but with the shape of your head, I would really stay away from rims as thick as those. Or from your hairstyle. You probably want to—”
“What was that?” Phoenix’s dark timbre makes the hairs on my neck stand up.
20
“Isincerely think that you yourself need a new pair of glasses, Mr. Jackson. Have you not seen her face? My wive could wear swimming goggles and would still put any of those models in your front window to shame. And let me tell you…” His voice sounds aggravated and causes me to flush.
I wish I didn’t have to. I wish I could listen to Phoenix defend me all day long, but before this situation can turn into more than it has to be, I try to stop and calm him down. A lawsuit from Mr. Jackson wouldn’t fit into our schedule anyway. So I smile my nicest smile and address the now intimidated-looking man sitting across from us. “I’ll give that the consideration it deserves.” I remain still for half a second, not letting my eyes off of his. “Yep, I’ll take this pair.”
