I heard him call, “Hey, boss?” and the machine noise stopped.
“Yeah?” a deep, gruff voice replied from a distance.
“About those cabinets for the Wainwrights—”
“When are they getting the fuck out of here? They’re taking up too much room. Did you schedule the installation?”
“Uh, about that—”
“What about that?” the other man snarled.
“Apparently the Wainwrights got divorced after they ordered the cabinets.”
Gabe snorted. “I could have seen that coming. She is way out of his league.”
My ego welcomed his assessment, especially since it’d taken such a blow when my husband decided to throw away our family for a woman probably ten years younger than me. I wasn’t even sure if she could legally drink. But I wondered how Gabe could say that about me since we’d never met. Maybe he’dbeen there when we went into the showroom, and I hadn’t realized it.
“I guess she caught his secretary riding his dick.”
I heard him wince. “What a moron. That chick is hot with a capital H, and he cheats on her? He was probably neglecting her at home, too.”
Again, the ego boost was appreciated, and he wasn’t wrong about me being neglected.
“Yeah, well… she doesn’t want the cabinets anymore—”
“What?”
“And is wondering if there’s something you can do.”
“They’recustomcabinets, what the fuck does she think I can do for her? Tell her unless she wants to ridemydick, she’s out of luck. We have a contract.”
“Excuse me?” I shouted into the phone.
I heard Rick mutter, “Oh, shit,” before the line went dead.
****
Gabe
I looked at Rick’s mortified face as he punched a button on the phone, then dropped it on the nearest surface like it was burning his hand, and I realized what had just happened.
“You are fucking fired,” I growled.
“Damn, Gabe. I’m sorry. I thought I’d put her on hold.”
“Obviously not, dumbass.”
Pinching the bridge of my nose, I let out a deep sigh.
How the hell am I going to fix this?
I had no clue.
What I did know was that I didn’t need this shit today. Becky had called earlier that morning asking me to bring our daughter Brittany’s school sweatshirt to our son Brayden’s first lacrosse game of the season later that afternoon.
When I explained that wasn’t feasible since I didn’t have time to go home before his game, she threw a tantrum like only my ex-wife could.
“She needs that sweatshirt, Gabriel.”
