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I laugh.
Then I look up and everyone is staring at me.
I give my second in charge, Timothy, a heads up. “Are we almost done?”
He nods, knowing that I’m lost in translation and this meeting is boring as bat shit.
Me
I have to get back to work.
Layne
Meet you at Sushi Heaven at 1pm
I sigh.
This is exactly why I don’t want or need a damn birthday party. Because there’s too much to organise. And I don’t do fucking parties or goddamn ice sculptures. I swear my sister has too much time on her hands.
There is no point replying. If I try and dodge it, she’ll turn up at my office and then I’ll never get rid of her.
I look up from my phone.
“Fine,” I say, at the tail end of Oliver ranting about our rivals, Prime Media, and their new ad campaign. Their CEO Jeremy Fuller is a bag of dicks. He inherited the company from his grandfather, but doesn’t know the first thing about how to run the place, or how to be a leader. I’d love to buy it one day and dismantle it, just to see the look on his pretty boy face. “We’ll run with Timothy’s suggestion and ride out the storm. If fuckface Jeremy thinks he can win his new board over with the shit he’s been putting out lately, then let him sink his own ship.”
Timothy snickers. He’s just waiting for a battle. “Agreed. I’ll keep you updated.”
Yes. Dismantling a fifty-year-old, well-respected company and sub-dividing it so there’s nothing left but spare parts, making Prime Media nothing but a blip, might actually put me in a better mood.
I get a sick satisfaction, however, watching people sink themselves. And Jeremy has enough rope to hang himself.
Everyone gets up to leave but I stop Jerard, my PA. “I need to run over this week’s schedule with you again.” I run a hand through my hair.
“Did I miss something?” he asks. It’s not unusual for us to reschedule things several times a day. Sometimes it seems like everyone in this fucking town wants a piece of me.
“Push my one o’clock to two. I’m having lunch with my sister.”
“Very well, is there anything else?” He taps away on his iPad.
I like Jared. He’s efficient and good at what he does. He also doesn’t do stupid shit or fawn over me — being a heterosexual male — and I never have to ask him to do anything twice. Fuck knows why he’d want to be my PA, but he enjoys organising and he is one of the few who don’t make my life a living hell.
“Remind me of anything important I need to do today.” I look at him pointedly.
He clicks around. “After your two o’clock, you have a meeting with Japan about their new beer commercial, you told me to remind you that Lachlan was, and I quote, ‘as useless as balls on a chicken,’ sir.”
I roll my lips. “I did?”
“Yes, but since you fired him last week, I don’t see it being an issue.” His eyes meet mine and I laugh.
“I think you need a raise.”
His eyebrows shoot up. “My jokes are very good, but I think I can do better.”
“The drunkards from last year's Christmas party would agree with you.”
“At four you have a workout scheduled with Lamar, and I’ve got those season tickets you asked for last week. They’re on your desk,” he goes on.
“Good. Thank you.”
