Devil of a Job
Frankie
My pulse spikeswhen I hear the email come in after hours. It’s the same reaction I have every time—an aghast sort of horror that my virtual boss would even consider emailing me after hours. Somehow, I’m surprised every time it happens, which is enough to piss me off, and yet not enough to push me away completely.
I should quit, but I know I won’t.
Can’t.
Francesca,
I would like you to accompany me on the trip next week. This is nonnegotiable. In your email, you’ll find your airline ticket as well as the accommodation details. See you Monday.
Regards,
Dr. Dante Kincaid
I groan and throw my phone down on my coffee table just as Ari saunters back in with two full glasses of wine. My cheeks are hot with fury, and as Ari hands my glass to me, I don’t even attempt to mask the anger simmering just under my skin. I gulpdown the entire glass of wine in seven large sips, and when I set the empty glass down, Ari is watching me with a cautious expression.
“Either you really like the wine, or something is seriously wrong,” she says, brow furrowed. “And by the way your eyes are doing that murderous glint thing, I’m going to guess something’s wrong, so what’s up?”
“Take a guess,” I mumble, leaning back and rubbing my eyes with the backs of my hands. It’s only Friday but my stomach sours with dread, and the heavy feeling settles over me despite the wine working through my system. Leave it tohimto ruin my weekend before it’s even begun.
“Oh no. Doctor Devil?”
“Yup. He wants me to come with him to the conference in San Francisco next week. I was really looking forward tonothearing from him as much for a whole week, and now I’ll have to endure his presence in person for ten days straight.”
She scoffs. “That’s bullshit. He needs to get over himself. I mean, of course he wants you there. He’d be completely lost without you. After all, who would manage his temper? Who would smooth things over when he inevitably pisses off a colleague? Who would get him back into his email system in the middle of the night without you dropping everything to cater to his every whim and need? You should just quit. Seriously,” she adds, sipping her wine. “He’s an asshole.”
“I can’t. I need the money. It would be stupid to leave.”
Ari raises her eyebrows. “It is good money,” she muses, sipping her wine. “It’s like you’re between the devil and the deep blue sea,” she muses, smirking. “Oh, wait.”
“Har har har,” I retort, rolling my eyes.
“No, really. Your boss is an arrogant asshat, yet he pays you four times as much as a typical virtual assistant. How is that fair?”
I groan and the wine threatens to come back up. “He’s already discussing another performance bonus.”
“Really? Didn’t you just have one?”
I shrug. “I don’t know. Between insults and bossing me around, he mentioned something about how I’m coming up on two years working with him on our last phone call. Not that I’m complaining.”
She barks a laugh. “Maybe he’s in love with you.”
Now I’m the one laughing. “Yeah fucking right. He’s a grumpy, reclusive doctor and I doubt he’s ever loved anyone in his sad, sorry life,” I bite back, feeling angry that I’ll be spending my weekend getting ready for a ten-day work trip up north instead of buying more plants and sewing more blankets. “I doubt he’s even capable of love, to be honest. You have to have a heart for that.”
“Ouch.”
“I’m serious, Ari. My hatred for him scares me sometimes. You know I’m not a hateful person, but his emails send me into a blind rage. It’s like he knowsexactlywhat to say to infuriate me. And he smooths it all over every few months by throwing more money at me. It’s not like I can say no, either—I do need it.”
“I know, sweetie,” she says softly, reaching out for my hand as she comes to sit next to me on the couch. “See how this work trip goes. I mean, you’ll only see him some of the time, so the other times, it’s basically like a free trip to San Fran.”
“That’s true.”
“Maybe it’ll be overtime. Which means more money, and that meansfinallyhiring out your Etsy shop.”
“I don’t want to hire out. I like making the blankets,” I whine, picking at a thread on one of said blankets laid over the couch. “Every single blanket is special. Making them brings me joy. Do you know what doesn’t bring me joy?”
