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“Why not? Stop your jig, we’re trading barbs at the moment. She’s not as witty as I’d hoped.”
“You hoped she was something? Let me see.” He peeks over my shoulder. “Actually, she’s pretty quick.”
I shake my head and hurl my empty plastic gun at him. “Go think of something brilliant, so we can take this fucking game in one match. No second round. Got me? Dog food—that’s what you live and breathe right now.” He salutes me and disappears. The best part of Dax being my best friend is he keeps his comments short, but I know he’s got my back.
Does this mean I win? she types.
Not even close.
There you are.
I type quickly. Admin is going over the rules. I muted. You?
The moment Curt started a sentence with, “Well, up in the Frisco office…” No one in that wonderful city says “Frisco.”
Ha.
Oh shit they asked you for last year’s budget numbers.
On it. THX.
She responds, Propping you up to cut you down another day.
She is wittier than I give her credit for most days. I respond while droning on about budgets, I look forward to it.
The colossal waste of time call ends and I stand and stretch a bit. Too much time at my desk. I toss my yoga mat on the ground and do a couple of poses, holding them almost perfect. What I really need is some time down at the boxing gym, knocking the shit out of the heavy bag. I have a date tonight. I’d rather be with the heavy bag. That’s not a good sign. Doesn’t bode well for… shit.
I yell from Warrior II pose, “MONICA. MONICA! WHAT’S HER NAME?” I don’t like the name. I remember that. She works in the district attorney’s office and she’s hot.
An intern, not Monica, looks into my office. She pulls up her iPad. “Her name is Leslie Sherman, goes by Lee.”
“I’m calling her Leslie. Or babe. Not Lee. Where’s Monica?”
“Vermont. Her niece is in a play. She’s the second lead in Glengarry Glen Ross.”
“How old is she?”
“Eleven.”
“School play?”
“It’s a progressive school” She’s way too excited to tell me this information. My phone rings and as she scurries off to get it, I fire off a text to Monica.
HAYDEN: How important is this niece? More important than me and the date whose name I can’t remember? You took my memory to Vermont.
My phone rings and I hop up from the floor. I assume it’s Monica, since the intern put it right through.
I say, “There’s no going to Vermont. Did I ok this? Not in the middle of war. You get your skinny butt back here so we can attack the enemy on all fronts. I need to know what’s going on in Chicago at all times. My assistant does not take time off when I need her.”
A voice that’s definitely not Monica’s knocks the wind out of me a bit. “I do keep a tight grip on your assistant’s whereabouts, and my ass. Nothing happens in my city without going through me. That’s why you don’t actually know what’s going on. Did you want to come by and kiss the ring?”
“Fuck me. Miller?”
“You couldn’t handle me.” I laugh at her balls. She continues, “Yes, it’s me. I’m calling with an olive branch.” Her voice is deep and rich. I imagine it gets throaty when she has sex.
“What’s your angle?” I flick my thumb from behind my index finger.
“No angle. We have so much to focus on and I want the piece of my brain back that’s constantly either coming up with ways to torture you or bracing for your next move.”
