Page 12 of Under Her

“An hour!” I slam my hand down on the seat beside me. “The meeting was supposed to be at ten.”

“It was brought forward. You got an email about it late last night.”

Last night—when I was in a bar, getting trashed and doing body shots off a chick, like I had done back in college.

I’m such a prick.

“Shit.” Taking my phone in hand, I lay my head back on the seat and rub my aching forehead. “I’ll be there as soon as I can. Just try to delay the meeting until I get there.”

“I’ll do my best.”

I hang up my cell.

I can’t fucking believe this. I need to be in Chicago in an hour to make that meeting.

Because, if I don’t, I’ll never hear the end of it from my mom.

I lean forward in my seat. “Looks like I need to be in Chicago in an hour. I’ll add another five hundred to your fare if you get me there.”

His eyes meet mine in his rearview mirror. “I’ll do my best.”

His foot presses down on the gas as I lie back on the seat and pray for a traffic miracle.

The cab gets me to the office in an hour and twenty. I pay the driver and jump out of the cab like my ass is on fire. I race my way into the building and straight into a waiting elevator.

I jab at the button to my floor, impatiently watching the door close. Then, finally, it starts to ascend.

I tuck my shirt into my pants, and staring at my blurred reflection on the shiny metal walls of the elevator, I run my hands through my hair, trying to straighten it.

The elevator reaches my floor. The door opens, and Chrissy is waiting there with a coffee in hand.

“You look like shit.”

“Thanks.” I take the coffee from her, and we start walking side by side in the direction of my office. “Has the meeting started yet?”

“No. Your parents pushed it back.”

“My mom pissed?”

Chrissy slides me a look. “What do you think?”

I think I’m dead.

“They’re waiting for you in your office with Morgan.”

“Okay.” I take a gulp of coffee.

“And your parents think that a pipe burst at your apartment and that you had to get the plumbers in, so that’s why you’re late.”

“You’re the best,” I tell her.

“Oh, I know.” She smirks.

My stomach growls loudly. I realize I haven’t eaten since lunch yesterday. No wonder I got so hammered last night.

“You hungry?”

“Apparently so.”