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My laptop was closed and my phone was in front of me.
What the fuck did this Olivia look like?
I had seen her hands, feet and even the top of her damn head on her blog, which seems to be based on cooking healthy meals on a low budget and photography. But no photo of her, just her hands and one time I feet; it was so fucking weird. I had visions of her being devastatingly ugly, until I saw her feet. They proved that she wasn’t hideous, unless they weren’t even her fucking feet. People do some fucked-up shit on the Internet. There was an author that stole a Brazilian model’s photo. She did it, because she wanted reader to think that she was a sexy chick writing sexy shit.
Craig, my best friend, barged in, I had a bit of a shock at first because I thought that it was her.
“Why are you sitting there like that? That’s weird.” He pointed at me, I could come up with an excuse, but he knew me too well. He knew when I was on edge and I should have been thinking about the deal, not the virtual assistant.
I stood up to save face; he was right. I wasn’t the type to sit down and wait, but I’d snooped the previous night when I got home. And then I’d started to get scared that she was one of those women that are wanted by the police. Maybe that was why she hid her true identity?
Shit, I thought that women were paranoid. Then again with my track record I had a right to be fucking paranoid.
“Scarlett’s left?”
My best friend was the one person on this planet that I couldn’t lie to.
“Not exactly.”
“So you fired her?”
I nodded, then realized that there was no way to gloss over it.
“I made the mistake of fucking her.”
“For a change,” he sighed as if he was fed up of me. He didn’t realize that I was kind of fed up of myself, until I came up with the brilliant plan of getting Olivia to come into the office.
“And then the next thing I know, I come into work and she’s demanding that I say I love her. It was weird enough that she left fucking photos on my desk.”
“Of what?”
It was too early in the morning to talk about this, I needed to get a drink. A strong one, so I headed to the bar at the corner of my office and started to make one. I knew that I couldn’t fob him off.
“Her engagement ring. I thought that if I didn’t sack her then the next day, it would be her wedding dress. Who fucks for one week and then picks out engagement rings?”
“Virgins!” Craig signaled for me to pour him a glass too.
“Then she stormed into the office demanding that I tell her I loved her. We only started fucking last Monday and then a week later she wanted to be Mrs. Hamilton. What the fuck?”
“So you want the company to be fucked up by the employment agency because you can’t stop fucking the staff?”
I hesitated for a moment before handing him the glass. Tempted to ask him about his wife, Amelia, or even his son, just to completely change the subject. He was the CFO, we both met at college. He was only interested in fucking the head cheer, whereas I had my sights set on fucking the whole team.
He took his fucking to a whole different level as he put a ring on Amelia, and the moment we finished college, they were married. They’d been having babies nearly every year since. I would have thought that after the first one, they would have slowed down. Yet every year there’s an addition to their family, which is why he wanted to slow down and not work so much. He wanted to merge with another firm and take a back seat or a lighter role in the company. That’s why our fucking company needed to be squeaky clean. So we appeared to be in control and know what the fuck we’re doing. Which is why I didn’t want to tell him the truth about Scarlett, but I knew that he would find out.
Women have big mouths in the office.
Men even bigger.
“No of course not. But listen, I had an idea.”
He raised an eyebrow after he took a shot of the bourbon. He handed me his glass and nodded for me to fill it up.
“Remember that virtual assistant? The one that I had as a back-up when I found out that the assistants weren’t that good. She’s been filling the gaps in between the assistants that keep coming and going.”
He corrected me, “No Ross, you mean the ones you fucked, the ones you were fucking or the ones that you were about to fuck?”
I handed him the glass and ignored his comment.
