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The algorithm has been fixed, but it doesn’t seem to matter. No matter how much I scream it from the virtual mountains, people aren’t buying it.
So what the fuck do I do?
Some of my smaller campaigns seem to be working. I’ve been encouraging people to post and share their experiences on their random dates. I’ve even successfully started this whole viral dare to get a picture of your date holding a banana.
But it isn’t enough. The number of new signups is pitiful compared to our old numbers.
After staring at my screen for what feels like hours, I have to fight the urge to bang my head against the desk in frustration. The answer to saving the company, if there is one, is eluding me.
Standing up from my chair, I venture out of my little cubicle and head for the coffee station. More caffeine is probably the last thing I need, but unfortunately the office doesn’t have a tequila station.
Hmm. Maybe that’s something I could bring up to Bry when he gets back…
Stirring my little red straw around in my paper cup, I’m so lost in my head I don’t realize that there’s someone invading my personal space until I feel someone’s breath on my neck. My skin crawls and all the little hairs on my body stand on end.
I whip around to see Chad grinning at me.
“What the fuck, Chad,” I frown.
He’s completely invading my personal bubble.
“How’s it going, Zoe?” he asks without moving back one bit.
His eyes brighten, as if he enjoys my reaction.
“It’s going…” I grumble and narrow my eyes at him, hoping he takes the hint to back the fuck up.
Unfortunately, he doesn’t. He moves in closer and I end up grinding my spine into the counter to keep some distance between us.
Sticking my arm out, I plant my hand on his chest and give him a little push. “What the hell? Back up.”
Completely ignoring my push, he leans in even closer and has the nerve to twirl his finger in my hair. “I figure with the boss gone, you must be lonely.”
I swat at his hand and give him another push. The fucker weighs so much though he barely budges. “That’s none of your business. Now please back the fuck up, Chad. I have shit to do.”
Dropping his hand, Chad’s face tightens with irritation. “How much is Mr. Ericsson paying you?”
“What the fuck are you talking about?” I boggle at him.
Has he completely lost his damn mind?
“I know he pays you for sex,” he says, and cold realization washes over me.
That’s right, he was there the night Bry left. No wonder he looked so smug… He must have overheard Bry talking about our deal.
Fuck.
Taking advantage of my moment of shock, Chad pushes his body into me, crushing me against the counter.
All kinds of alarms go off in my head, and once again I find myself in the situation I dread. Instead of reacting rationally, my body and brain choose to shut down. Some stupid instinctive reflex making me freeze in place instead of fight back.
“I can pay too…” he breathes into my face. “I’ll give you twenty for a blow.”
Anger burns through me and I try to push through this stupid instinctual fear.
“No!” I snap at him and shove him again.
He’s got my damn legs trapped in a way that I can’t knee him in the groin. Can’t do much but try to get his weight off.
“Forty then,” he grunts as my hand pushes into his ribs. “But I want you to swallow.”
With his weight crushing into me, I’ve never felt so fucking helpless and cornered before in my life, and the feeling brings tears to my eyes. I’ve always disliked Chad, always found him slimy, but now I absolutely hate him for making me feel like this.
I don’t even know how it’s possible to be angry, sad, and scared at the same time, but I am, and I fucking hate it.
“No, goddammit! For the last time, get off me!” I finally yell, not caring who overhears.
“What? Mr. Ericsson’s money is good enough for you, but mine isn’t?” he whines and leans his face closer.
I close my eyes and shake my head back and forth, trying to escape him. I swear to god if his lips touch me I’m going to bite them off.
“That’s fucking right,” Bry growls, and at first I think it’s just my imagination.
But then I open my eyes in time to watch Bry grab Chad by the throat and lift him off his feet. It’s almost cartoonish how Chad’s eyes bulge out before Bry tosses him away like he’s garbage.
With a squealing-grunt, Chad crashes into the floor.
Panting, blinking in disbelief, I stare at Chad for a moment before swinging my gaze to Bry.
He glares down at Chad like he’s a bug he wants to stomp out of existence. Then he turns toward me. The dark anger radiating off him fades away, replaced by worry.
