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“I’m sorry,” she said. “That’s cold. That was pretty fucked up. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry,” I said. “I have a plan. I’m going to get back at him.”
She rolled her eyes. “Let me guess, you’re going to invite him out to dinner and end up at a hotel with more sex. Then you walk out on him. Then he’s going to turn around and do it again. I’m thinking this might be some kind of weird relationship.”
“Oh no.” I shook my head. “That’s never happening again. I’m going to work for him.”
“What?”
“Yep,” I said, smiling. “I’m going to work for him. I’m going to do all that I can to make his life hell and he’s going to pay me to do it. He’s not going to get the chance to forget me. I’m going to be up in his face every minute. As his assistant, I’ll be in control of his schedule. I’ll have to get his coffee, which I plan on screwing up as badly as possible. I’m going to do just enough to mess with him without doing enough to get me fired. If he wants to fire me, he’s going to have to do it for no real reason. Then I’ll have grounds to sue him. He can’t fire me because I ran out on him in Vegas. He started this fight. I’m going to finish it.”
“Ohgirl! I wish I could be a fly on the wall.”
“I’ll try to take notes,” I said, laughing.
“How are you really though?” she asked.
I sighed. “Hurt. It wasn’t cool what he did. I know it was just to get back at me, but it sucked. I never meant to hurt his feelings. Hemeantto hurt me. There is no possible way he actually loved me. If he did, he wouldn’t have done what he did.”
“Don’t you think it might be better to just walk away from this?” she questioned. “I see this ending badly for both of you.”
“Well, I pretty much told Harold to kiss my ass today, so I need the job.”
The shock on her face was very satisfying.
20
JON
Iwas so glad I didn’t have to go to work today. I was deep into the guilt. It was a heavy cloak darkening my day. The initial high of revenge faded. Truthfully, it had never felt all that good. I thought it would feel great, but I was just stuck with this heavy, icky feeling. I needed to shake it. I was hoping spending the day on the golf course would work out all the kinks. Peter and I made a point to keep up the family tradition. Every other Friday, we hit the course. It was something our dad insisted on. Even when his company got a little bigger and he got a lot busier, he insisted on spending a minimum of two Fridays a month with us.
After he died, Peter and I kept up the tradition. Dad always said there was more to life than work and money. I took that advice to heart. It was the secret to my success. At least that was what I told everyone who asked. Getting on the green a couple times a month was a good time to decompress and unwind. It was a good balance to the constant day-to-day stuff I dealt with.
I didn’t have to call Peter and make sure he was going to be there. The only time he had missed a date on the green was for the birth of his second child. That seemed like a good enough reason. Even Dad would give him that one.
“Already got the cart,” Peter said when I walked into the clubhouse.
“Good. Let’s go.”
I loaded my clubs into the cart and hopped in the passenger seat. He took us to the first hole. Without a word, I got out, grabbed my club, and took my first swing. It sliced hard to the left. “Shit,” I muttered.
“Damn,” Peter teased. “What was that?”
“Wrong club,” I muttered.
“Are you just giving me the chance to beat you this time?” he teased.
“Nope, just getting warmed up,” I replied.
After a six-stroke hole on a four par, I considered giving up. I was off.
“What’s up?” Peter asked. “You only screw up this bad when you’re stressed out about something. What happened?”
“Her.” I climbed into the passenger seat again.
“Who’sher?”
“Her. The woman from Vegas. Macy.”
