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Chapter 18
Abbi
I’mreallyinthemood for music.
Something that reflects butterflies free-falling in my stomach when I think about Dean. Something with a throbbing slow beat taking me back to last night between the sheets with Dean. But also, something with lyrics to make me feel like a boss, ready to take on… my boss.
Eventually, I give up because I can’t think of a single song that can meet my complex musical needs this morning.
Once again, the apartment is completely silent. Hannah would probably be at work by now, so I’m traipsing around, quickly choosing an outfit—an understated pale pink blouse tucked into a tight black tube skirt that sits under my knee. Black ankle boots and a sexy set of underwear because as much as there’s a very strong likelihood today is going to be a terrible day, I know it’ll have a happy ending when I meet up with Dean this evening. I called Ellen at work and told her I was running late. She’ll cover for me as long as she can, so I’ve bought myself an hour or thereabouts.
Dean, Dean, Dean. I muse. Last night,ahhh. I’m not sore, exactly, more like well-used, and I’m not upset about it. I’ll be able to feel where he was all day, and that makes my inner muscles flutter. God, I can’t wait for tonight already. And many, many nights after that with any luck.
As soon as I’ve pulled my hair into a low ponytail, I grab my handbag and hightail it to the city center. After a short train ride, where I did my best to ignore the brewing ball of anxiety in my stomach, I stride along the sidewalk, practicing various ways to broach my current situation with my boss. It’s fairly quiet now. Most of the city workers are hard at it, only a few stragglers like me are wandering around. Maybe they have horrible bosses and impossible conundrums awaiting them too.
Mary is very tough on her minions. For someone in the business of new love and brand new fuzzy-wuzzy feelings, she’s certainly not known for sparing her staff a sharp word or pointing out when people fall below budget. She’s an eagle when it comes to key performance indicators, always circling above and watching. You have to get up pretty early in the morning if you plan on getting the better of Mary de Leacy.
I slow my steps when I’m a couple of blocks away, dread sitting like a rock in my stomach. I shuffle past Smash Beauty and see one of the staff in the window perfecting a beautiful new display. So pretty. Slick, glittery, bold.
My happy place.
Fuck it, I think, and stride to the entrance.
It’s not far off from lunchtime when I finally make it to Match X. I slip through reception, head down, and leg it to my desk. Staff do come and go from our floor, meeting clients and occasionally checking out venues, but this morning it’s uncharacteristically quiet as I weave my way through the open-plan office and seek out my desk. Just my luck.
My backside has barely touched my chair when Ellen’s head pops up over the partition, a grim look on her face. Before I can get her bearings and check in with my friend, I spot Mary storming over, face like thunder.
Oh shit. I stow my bag and take a deep breath, preparing myself for whatever she decides to throw at me.
“I need to speak to you.” No greeting, no pleasantries.
“Good morning, Mary. I need to speak to you too.”
“Still morning, is it?” she asks with a raised eyebrow and glances at the watch on her wrist.Excellent, going the passive-aggressive route today, then.I rise to my feet and bite down on a cheeky reply about perhaps getting her eyes checked and do the walk of shame behind her to one of the few offices on the floor.
Once the door is closed, she dives right in.
“Did Dean Lawless find a match? As you know, I’ve been keeping an eye on this one.”
I suspect Mary has had a look through the files and knows there was a date last night, and she’s guessing that I’ve not managed to succeed in successfully finding him a partner he’s interested in beyond an introduction.
And given she’s probably worked that out, what’s the point of torturing me like this? I’ve done nothing to deserve her ire. I work hard, I’m honest, I get along with my colleagues, and I truly do my best. I’ve pushed away the reality that I’m in a toxic workplace for a while now, but when the embodiment of a bullying boss is literally sitting opposite me, going red in the face while she gears up to chew me out, it’s impossible to ignore.
Knowing I don’t have to listen to it much longer is a huge relief. I decide to let her really go for it, and she doesn’t let me down.
“So? Did you find him a match?” I stay silent and clasp my hands in my lap. I wonder how crazy she’s going to get? She takes my silence as ano.
“I had no idea you were so incapable of following simple instructions, Abbi. I gave you plenty of warning about how important this client was, and now you’ve failed in finding him a match. Now it’s too late. I told you what would happen, didn’t I?” She’s barely taken a breath, and knowing how prone she is to longwinded rants, I decide to pipe up.
“Actually, I did find him a match, Mary.”
I confess I do take a little pleasure at the look of complete shock on her face when I interrupt the tirade.
“Really? Because I took a call from Luella, and she apologized for missing the date last night. So how could you have found him a match, Abbi? Are you lying to me? Because I can’t have liars in my team.”
That’s rich, coming from her. She’s constantly telling everyone she’s meeting clients when she goes out for a blowout manicure. I decide to beat around the bush and make her work for it.
“It’s a little unorthodox, but technically I did succeed with the task.”
