Page 44 of Over My Dead Boss
“Oliviaaa,” she slurs the consonants and stretches the vowels, clearly having had too much champagne, but she isn’t calling about lobster rolls. “You have to get home ASAP. Work is piling up — I assume, probably — and Verna is still annoying me, and it looks like I have found a way to save the company.”
“Oh? That’s great,” I whisper, not wanting to wake sleeping beauty in the next room. “How?”
“I used my charm and winning personality, and my husband’s, Waylon’s connections, and found us a new investor. Fresh money is coming in soon, which should be more than enough to hold us over water. In fact, I reckon we will have a nice sum to spend on various marketing campaigns. And with the new talent that I have brought on, I am more than optimistic about the future.”
I hum along, happily surprised. This would mean job security for hundreds of people, me included.
“Of course, we will have to make some cuts. We will outsource and restructure a few departments, trim some fat here and there, but that needs to be none of your concern.”
And there she is.Good old Isabella. Firing people with no concern for their lives whatsoever. It’s just business, after all.
I grind my teeth, trying to hold back all the slurs that come to mind. “I see.”
“Anyway, I am expecting you in the office tomorrow. We need to get started planning everything. I cannot do it alone.”
“I see,” I repeat myself and feel my stomach drop.So that’s it.“I guess that means we don’t need Mr. Cyrus’s manuscript anymore?! You know it’s superb. I’ve been able to acquire most of it from his lawyer. I’ve been interning for him to get access to the book and I think I could have the whole thing within a week or so.”
I continue to roughly recount the plot to convince her to give me more time. Because if she doesn’t, my own book deal would be dead in the water and my time here with Phoenix over. I don’t know which of those things bothers me more.
“Huh,” she finally says. “I remember that beginning. Didn’t think that’s the direction it would have taken. Fine. One more week. I’ll expect you back in the office on Monday, or I’ll start with the trimming of fat early, if you know what I mean.”
She hangs up the phone without waiting for a response, leaving me alone with my own dilemma. I sit in the bathroom, thinking, until my feet get too cold, then I sneak back into bed. Sleep eludes me the rest of the night, my mind racing tirelessly. I could probably get the finished manuscript. Phoenix seems to be coming close to the end, but should I actually hand it over? To Isabella, of all people? Until now, there really wasn’t a question in my mind. I could have saved a lot of jobs, and I could have gotten a book deal for myself. Now it feels like I would sell Phoenix out against his will and for my profit. I toss and turn under the blanket. Not having a book deal now wouldn’t mean never having a book deal. I could still make that happen at some point. And it wouldn’t be the end of the world to continue making payments for my parent’s debt each month. I’ve been doing that for quite some time now and it’s fine. I can just go back to my old life, do my old job, and keep doing what I have to do.
When the first sun rays hit the curtain, illuminating it from behind, I get up and sneak downstairs. There’s no way I can go back to sleep, so instead I take Dog for a quick walk and prepare for the day. The weather appears to be even nicer than it was the last two weeks, which feels unfitting for my current emotional state.
Both of us work diligently on our books that day, and I even write and upload new chapters to my Memorandum fanfic-series online. Sometime in the afternoon, Phoenix gets up and announces that he’s going to get ready now.
“Ready for what?” I ask.
“The dinner,” he answers, leaving me about as clueless as before.
27
“What dinner are you talking about?”
“The one I told you about, uhhh, yesterday?!”
I cross my arms and lean back in my chair. He totally forgot to tell me about whatever dinner he is talking about. I would remember. After all, even though we have been flexible with our schedule recently, I do still try to maintain a smooth operation around here. “Don’t you think I would know about a dinner if you had told me about it yesterday?”
He nods while walking up the stairs. “Yeah, I, too, thought your memory was better than this, but it’s no big deal. I’ll forgive you this one time. Anyway, dinner with Ryker at his place. He has asked me to come meet the woman he’s having over, and he told me to bring my own girlfriend as well. She’s busy, or I murdered her, can’t quite remember. So I thought I’d bring you along.”
My gaze follows him all the way up to the stairs, where he eventually stops, waiting for my response.
“You really need to tell me about the people you murder. As your assistant/editor/bodyguard/seamstress/personal stylist and undertaker, I should be better informed to be able to do my job properly.”
Phoenix smiles, turns around and vanishes in the hallway.
I shout after him, “Fine. I guess I’ll get ready as well then.” On my way to the bathroom, I almost trip over my own feet. If he is getting ready now, that means I don’t have nearly enough time to get ready myself. Without wasting a second, I take a quick shower, put on some make-up, new underwear and then stand in front of the box that contains most of my clothes. I never bothered unpacking. It would have made everything feel too permanent, as if I actually belong here. The box is a cruel reminder of reality.It is what it is. Let’s just have an enjoyable night, I tell myself, and pull out a tight black dress and a loose merlot-colored one that I have never worn before. The black one is short, revealing, and, for lack of a better word, somewhat slutty. Of course, Sienna had to send it. The red one is a little more classy and probably more appropriate for the evening.
“Red,” Phoenix’s voice echoes from behind me. When I turn around to face him, he is checking me out in my underwear. “I was thinking about wearing my black dress as well, and it would just look ridiculous if we showed up in matching clothes.” His gaze goes dark as he approaches me standing by my bed. “Besides, I want you to wear that black one just for me.” He flips me around and kisses my neck, his crotch pressing against my ass, then he takes the dress from my hand and slides it over my head, careful not to destroy my make-up.
“Maybe I should wear the black one real quick right now, before we go,” I say, looking over my shoulder.
Instead, Phoenix zips me up and gives me another kiss on my neck. “No time. We are already late. I told you we need to be there by eight. You’re really dropping the assistant’s ball, if I may say so.” He shakes his head and feigns a deep sigh before taking a step back and inspecting me, a crooked smile on his face.
On the way over to Ryker’s home, Phoenix sways along to some classical piece that I have never heard of, and for a moment I am worried he might accidentally set off the airbag when the drum sets in. It’s incredibly endearing to see that underneath all those steeled muscles there is a man underneath getting excited at the soothing sound of a clarinet.
Eventually, he turns down the music and clears his throat. “There’s something I should maybe tell you about Ryker.” He stops speaking, I assume for dramatic effect to get me riled up, and, unfortunately, it works.
