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This coming from the guy who couldn’t read his schedule. Despite that I kept it organized, yesterday, he had met with the wrong Mr. Wilson.
Boss, really quick, can I borrow your desk because it’s closer than mine so I can bang my head against it?
“Did you book the hotel?”
“Yes.” I clenched my teeth in a tight smile and ground my molars. “I also ordered flowers, and they will be delivered to your table.”
I’d basically set the plans for him to get laid tonight. Who knew what poor soul he had his sights on?
I had tried to warn off the countless interns and account officers who walked through Brisken Printing Corporation, but they still wanted him. Brad threw them one look, and they were all a forgone without-a-job conclusion.
Because canoodling between the sheets with the boss could turn the most professional women into the jealous and crazy stalker types, which usually ended up with them quitting and heading to the back of the unemployment line.
“What kind of flowers did you buy?” He leaned back on his chair and steepled his fingers by his lips.
“Roses, the kind I always order.”
“I want to change it up this time. Order me some peenees.”
My brow wrinkled, and I leaned in, clutching the iPad against my chest. “What?”
“Peenees. Remember, I told you about them the other day. The front desk had an arrangement of peenees.”
My boss loved to hear himself talk, and I was on the receiving end of that one-way dialogue, but I filtered out all things not work-related, and that didn’t require my attention.
What the hell is he even saying?
“What kind of flowers?”
“Peenees,” he drawled out the word as though elongating the E would make me understand him. He sounded like he was saying penises.
Why will I have to order that? Isn’t she going to get that later?
He almost looked annoyed, so I made him repeat it again.
“Sorry, what was that again?”
I bit my lip and schooled my features. If he was going to make my life hell, I could at least have a little laugh of my own.
“Peenees.” His voice was softer this time as though he were unsure. “Oh, for shit’s sake, come here.”
He began typing on his keyboard, and when I approached behind his desk, I expected to see a bunch of penises on his screen, but he typedpeeneesflowers in his search engine, and peonies came up.
Like a smart-ass, I pointed to the screen. “There’s an O there. It’s pronounced as pee-O-nees.”
He visibly frowned. “Real funny,” he deadpanned. “Do I look like a florist to you? Just add those flowers to the order.”
“Okay, will do.” I smirked, stepping around his desk.
He waved a hand, dismissing me. “Thanks. Wish me luck tonight.”
Brad didn’t need luck. He’d get laid, and he’d lose interest. It was his MO. And I’d hear about it all the next day because he was a sharer—but only to me, it seemed.
“Make sure you pick up my lunch at Klypso,” he added.
“Already ordered. Is that it?” I lifted an eyebrow.
The sounds of him typing on his keyboard echoed through the room.
