Page 1 of As a Last Resort
1
SAMANTHA
At any given time, there are twenty different imaginary conversations taking place in my head.
For example, reminding my mother (nicely) vodka does not count toward your recommended daily liquid intake of ninety ounces.
Or, reminding my coworker Robby (nicely) I’d prefer if he didn’t take credit for all the work I actually did.Again.
Or even, encouraging my sort-of boyfriend, Jack, (nicely) he should chew with his mouth closed because then he wouldn’t sound like such a cow when he eats.
I was in the middle of having one of these imaginary conversations, reminding the waitress (nicely) I ordered my salad with dressing on the side, as I shoved sopping wet lettuce into my mouth, when I noticed Jack staring at me from across the white linen tablecloth like I was supposed to say something.
“Did you hear me?”he asked.
“Of course, I did.”I hadn’t.
“So, you agree on our problem.It’s not me, it’s you.”
Right.It’s me.
Wait.
What’s me?
Servers zoomed by our table with fried spring rolls and chimingwineglasses.He gulped down the rest of his wine and snapped to get a waitress’s attention.
My phone dinged for the fifth time in three minutes.
“Sorry, just hold on a sec.”I grabbed it out of my back pocket and read the text from my coworker.“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“What now?”
“It’s Robby.He’s changing the offer price on the contract for Rock Island.Again.”
“I don’t mean with your work, Samantha.”
My feet fished around for the heels I’d secretly discarded somewhere under the table and I reached for my purse.
“You’re leaving?”he asked with a mouthful of food.A piece of rice shot out and stared me down from the tablecloth.
“It’ll just take a minute.I can’t access the contract on my phone and the office is only two blocks away.”Our acquisition team worked on the final draft of the development contract for hours—hours—and of course, the minute I leave for a microsecond of personal time, Robby sends an SOS that lands squarely on my plate.
A waitress appeared at our table.“How are your appetizers?”
“They’d be much better if we had wine to go with them.”Jack motioned to the empty glasses.
Her smile fell just a bit and I cringed.
“Of course.Just a moment.”She hurried off as I stood up.
“You can’t be serious,” he scoffed.
“Robby’s technically my boss on this project.I can’t just ignore him.”
“But you’ve barely touched your food.”
“I’ll be quick.I promise.”
