Page 4 of Desperate Haste
He scoffs at me and waves his hand at me again. “Don’t be an idiot. You’re handsome, strong, and you’ve got a good head on you. I think you would make some woman very happy.”
I have half a mind to make a joke about how I make women happy all the time, but seeing as how Reese is like a grandfather to me, I opt against it. “I guess I’m just not the marrying type,” I say.
As I pack up and throw a sweatshirt over my head, my mind goes back to how a certain someone I know is also unmarried and just as single as I am.
And a part of me can’t help but wonder why.
beautiful
3
OPHELIA
My eyes roll to the back of my head and I thank the gods above that the voice on the other side of my phone call can’t see my face. Can someone please explain to me how people who make far more money than I do can be so clueless sometimes? How did you manage to become the CEO of a multi-million dollar marketing firm and not know how to convert a Word document to a PDF? Sometimes I swear I’m the only competent person who works at this company. Well, me and Dale.
“Yes, sir, I’ll make sure to do that for you. Yep, mhmm, I know exactly what the client is asking for. Don’t worry about it, you just go enjoy the Bahamas. Alright, have a good day now.” As I hang up the phone and silently scream into my hands, my second favorite human walks into my office.
“Mr. Jenkins?” Dale asks, knowing good and well that there’s really only one person who I can be irritated as all hell by but still treat with the utmost respect. Anyone else I would have ripped their heads off for being so completely inept. But Mr. Jenkins is my boss and honestly a good guy—albeit a little confused by today’s technology.
He’d hired me four years ago after I Googled ‘marketing firms, Charleston South Carolina’ with nothing but a backpack and two years of personal savings to my name. When I tracked down his office, I walked right in without an appointment, lied to his secretary about being family, and asked him for a job. I’ll never forget the way the skin around his eyes wrinkled as he studied me from the opposite side of an old, wooden desk, wondering who the hell I thought I was to walk in and demand a job. After thirty minutes of questions that resembled more of an interrogation than an interview, I was hired. Four years and a whole hell of a lot of work later, I’m standing at the helm of said company as his second in command. I make more money than I need in a year and work every day doing what I love. Marketing isn’t for everyone but I love my job more than most things.
“Yes.” I let out a tired sigh. It’s only three in the afternoon on a Monday but I feel like it should be well past my bedtime. “I love him but he’s exhausting sometimes.”
“He tries,” Dale says, taking a seat in one of the chairs in my office and pushing his lips out like a duck as he thinks about our boss. Dale came on board to be my assistant three years ago and there are some weeks I see him more than I see my best friend, Bailey, who I live with. Well, used to live with. She lives with her husband now and has for the last few months. It’s weird not having her around the condo anymore and heading home feels a little more lonely than it used to.
“Hey, how was the wedding?” he asks, our weird telepathy that’s developed over the last three years of working together connecting and giving my internal monologue away.
“Ugh, it was so beautiful. Bailey was the classic blushing bride and I was the standard blubbering maid of honor. I could watch that girl get married every day and never get tired of it.”
She and I had been friends for years ever since I met her at a charity function she had organized. She was in the event planning and hospitality space and with my background in marketing and brand management, we naturally crossed paths. After she went through a life altering night, she moved in with me and we lived together for two years before she met the man she would fall in love with. Her ‘soldier’ as she likes to call him. Bailey and Hank are the quintessential perfect couple. He dotes on her as if she’s a princess and she loves him so much that she’d never shut up about him if you let her. I wasn’t surprised when he told me he wanted to marry her after only knowing her for nine months and asked me to help him with the proposal.
“Sounds like fun. Did you have a good time? Meet anyone?” He wiggles his eyebrows at me and gives me a smirk. He knows my normal weekend behavior well enough so I’m not offended by his insinuation in the slightest. People are often appalled when I tell them my body count. Not that many people ask but when they do, they clutch their pearls and stare at me like I’m a modern day whore. I much prefer to be considered a modern day Samantha Jones, thank you very much.
Strong. Independent. Unashamed.
I love men.
But I love using them for my own satisfaction more.
And because I’m not shy about that fact, I’m often pegged as a slut or a homewrecker.
Neither of which are true.
If a man can go out and have a good time and be celebrated as a ‘player,’ why can’t the same be true for women? And Ineverhookup with a guy who is in a relationship. Ever. I have a finely tuned radar for that kind of thing and never buy into the whole ‘we’re taking a break’ bullshit. Sure, I enjoy the company of single men on the weekends, but I never sleep with more than one man in the same weekend andneverbeg for a man to take me home with him. If he isn’t interested, I will happily take myself home and enjoy my own company. The sex toy industry isn’t worth billions of dollars by accident.
“It wassofun. The venue was perfect and the food was amazing. I’m still dreaming about the cake,” I start, leaning back in my chair and kicking my heels up on my desk. The pair of black leather Jimmy Choos point high as they rest on the tabletop. Dale looks at me, still pressing his lips out, and waits for me to continue.
“What?” I tease, knowing good and well what he’s hoping I’ll say.
“Come on, O, spill. I know you. Who’s the guy?” he spits out playfully.
“Who says there was a guy?” I retort, lifting an eyebrow at him.
“Miss ma’am, donotdo this to me. I haven’t seen a dick in months and it’s starting to affect me on a deeply personal level. Spill the beans and let me live vicariously through you.” The way he flicks his hand at me makes me chuckle in my seat. Dale loves men just as much as I do which is part of the reason we get along so well. I don’t have a shot in hell at taking him home with me, so there’s no way work can get awkward. Instead, I just tell him about my weekend flings and he gobbles it up like free candy.
I chew on my lip for half a second before giving him what he wants. “You have to promise not to laugh.”
“Why would I laugh? When have I ever laughed at you?” He dips his chin and looks at me over his kelley green rectangle frames. The light shining in from the window in my office reflects off his bald head. He’s right, he’s never laughed at me once. And I’ve shareda lotwith him over the last three years.
