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I sighed and sat back in the chair, then tapped my nails against the surface of my desk. This just wasn’t working. I was simply doing the same thing over and over again, but it wasn’t like it was changing anything. I wasn’t getting anywhere.
This was… not good. My editor would be expecting an update, and what was I supposed to tell her? “Oh, I’m sorry, my brain doesn’t want to work so I have nothing but a working title that I despise and a vague idea of what might happen but I’m not really sure,actually.”
No, no… That wasn’t going to work.
“Fuck my liiiiife,” I breathed, burying my head in my hands. I clawed my fingers through my hair, digging my nails into my scalp, and dropped my chin right to my chest in defeat.
My phone dinged with a text message, and I reached for it, pulling it off the charge lead.
MEGAN: I hate my boss. She’s a snobby judgemental pious bitch and I wish I could hit her with a frying pan and throw her in a canal somewhere.
Ironically, I was feeling that way about my boss.
There was just one problem.
Iwas my boss.
ME: I, too, hate my boss. And you missed a couple of commas.
MEGAN: Shove your Oxford comma up your arse.
ME: Never. I’ll be buried with it.
MEGAN: What did your boss do?
ME: Her brain won’t work. What did yours do this time?
MEGAN: Ripped my entire marketing plan to pieces in front of the whole team. I fucking hate her so much. I need a new job. I’m going to get a new job.
She wasn’t going to get a new job. She’d beenlookingfor one for the last ten months, but she hadn’t actually gone on any interviews. I’d even sent her some job listings to call her bluff, but she and I both knew she wasn’t going to get another job.
She’d worked too hard for the one she had, and she was far too determined to prove to her boss that she was wrong and Megan was right.
ME: No, you’re not. You’ll never get a new job.
MEGAN: ALL RIGHT BUT I WANT ONE.
ME: It doesn’t change the fact you won’t quit.
MEGAN: No, you’re right. I won’t. I’ll prove that snobby cow wrong if it kills me.
ME: It might. Your blood pressure seems pretty high.
MEGAN: You’ve met that woman. My blood pressure is always high.
ME: You should see someone about that.
MEGAN: I will. The CEO when I’m promoted above that bitch.
ME: Dream big, darling.
MEGAN: You should write a book about me and how I stomp on my boss’s head.
ME: You do know I write romance, right? Not thrillers or murder mysteries.
MEGAN: Then make my hot boyfriend stomp on her head for me. That’s romantic.
ME: You need to spend less time watching Netflix.
