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“I’m going out with the guys to celebrate.”
He gave me a look which conveyed the fact that he gave fewer than zero fucks about my plans.
“Cancel. Or better still, go there for your birthday.” Really?
“To a tittie bar?”
“It’s not a tittie bar. The servers are fully—if extremely scantily—clothed. But even if it was, what would be the problem? A group of young guys in a strip joint is like a fat kid in a cake store. Unless you have something against tits, of course?”
“You know I don’t.”
“Nothing would surprise me with you. But now we’ve established that, I want you there tonight. Make the first approach, then take it from there. We have twelve weeks until the IPWS deal announcement, and I want her well and truly out of the picture, and the decks cleaned before then. Have I made myself clear?”
“Yes.”
“Yes, what?”
Yes, you giant-fucking-douche-canoe of a manipulating piece of shit. “Yes sir.” I gave him a fake military salute, which as he turned on his heel to walk away, morphed into flicking him the bird. Fuck, I hated him. Hard.
Chapter 2
Kik
My phone vibrated as it lay face down on the card table of the retirement home. I glanced around the room surreptitiously before turning it over discreetly to see who it was. Max’s name flashed up on the screen. Shit. I kind of needed to take the call. I ducked outside, hoping to catch it before it stopped ringing. I picked it up, out of breath, and surely just before he hung up.
“Hey, Max.”
“Hey, yourself. Why do you sound like you just ran a marathon?” I was trying my damnedest not to pant, and clearly failing.
“Because I kind of did. I’m at work, so I had to duck out before picking up.”
“When are you ever not? At work, I mean.” Tonight, hopefully.
“Almost never. But anyway, the point is that I had to jog outside to answer. I kind of need to get back to it, too, so…?”
“So why the fuck am I calling you?” Bingo.
“Well I wasn’t going to say it quite like that, but now that you have, yeah, what’s the deal?” I braced myself for bad news. It wasn’t like Max was in the habit of calling me just to shoot the shit.
“So you know how you wanted tonight off?” I noted the use of the past tense. Fuck.
“Yeah, because I have assignments out the wazoo, and am so far behind, I’m almost ahead.”
“Uh-huh. Well we’d booked Miss Peaches to cover you, but she has just been diagnosed with a kidney stone. She’s in the hospital right now, waiting to pass that shit.”
“Ouch. I’ve heard that it’s more painful than childbirth. Times like this, I’ll bet she’s reminded that she might prefer dresses and heels, but she still has the junk to prove she’s rocking that meat sword.”
“Jesus, ‘meat sword.’ Who even…actually, never mind. I can’t say I envy her that experience. It’s one time where you ladies have it better than us. Anyway, my point is that I have no act for tonight. So I was wondering if you could do your shift, like normal? Please. I wouldn’t ask if we weren’t desperate. I know you need the night off more than most.”
“Man, really? I have to get some schoolwork done, or I’m going to flunk out. Besides, I was looking forward to spending more than like two minutes with Dad instead of having to take off, or getting back after he’s already asleep.” On the other hand, despite the need to study, I hadn’t been looking forward to missing the night’s earnings. “Can’t you ask Carl?”
“Tried. He’s in rehab.”
“Again?” Fuck.
“Yep. Can’t seem to keep clean for more than thirty seconds.”
“What about that chick with the hula-hoops? The crowd always eats that shit up.”
