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“I think the whole beach knew it, Ant,” said Dan, looking at him with his best ‘what gives, you’ll feel better if you tell me’ expression.
Ant groaned. “I lost the fucking promotion.”
“Ah, shit. Who got it?” Dan knew how much this hurt. He did the easy eye contact thing with their waitress and a second round of coffees was on its way.
“That bitch Bree Robinson.”
“You mean that deserving colleague you admire and respect so much?” said Fluke.
“I mean that bitch Bree Robinson.”
Mitch laughed. “Sore loser much."
Ant gave Mitch the evil eye. “Fuck off. That senior analyst role was mine.”
“Hold up,” said Dan. “You said she was good. Knows her stuff.” He pushed back in his chair, settling in. Which wasn’t good. It meant question time. “Why do think they chose Bree?”
“She’s a fucking suck up.”
Dan nearly choked on a toast crust. “And by that you mean?”
“Probably what you’re thinking.” He wanted Dan to start thinking about something else, anything would do. Couldn’t the guy just eat his eggs.
“I’m thinking you’ve always said Petersens was a respected brokerage full of smart people. I’m thinking those smart people chose Bree over you for a good reason. Is that what you thought I was thinking?”
“I was thinking she probably has good tits,” said Mitch.
Ant ignored Mitch and focussed on Dan. “It’s got...”
“No wait, answer Mitch first. Do you think she got promoted because she’s got good tits?”
“No.” The right answer, but not a satisfactory one for Dan.
“She doesn’t wear low cut tops and tiny skirts and flaunt her body?”
“No. She wears tailored suits and puts her hair in a thing,” he gestured at his head to indicate Bree put her hair up there, all sleek and tidy. “It’s a brokerage, Dan. We don’t wear bloody overalls and tool belts either.”
“Right, so what did you mean by saying she’s a suck up?”
“It’s obvious isn’t it?”
“If you want us to think she slept her way to the corner office,” said Fluke.
“So does she have good tits?” asked Mitch.
Ant rubbed his eyes. “There are no corner offices, its open plan, except for old man Petersen and I’ve never looked at her tits.”
“For real?” They all looked at Mitch. He laughed. “You’ve looked at her tits.” He forked a roast tomato in his mouth and swallowed. “You’d be dead if you didn’t.”
“Fuck off, Mitch,” said Ant. “She’s a colleague, not some chick I want to take home from our friendly neighbourhood dive after five minutes of having her tongue down my throat.” And so what if he’d looked at Bree’s tits, he would be dead if he hadn’t, but it didn’t work like that in the office. It was work, not the weekend. Not that there was much of Bree on display anyway. She was so conservative, pants or dark stockings, knee length skirts, long sleeved jackets all in dark colours. The only thing not strictly corporate about Bree was her shoes. She was tiny, she wore these come-fuck-me-shoes with six inch heels. She had a red pair he liked.
Dan waved a knife at him. “So what did you mean by saying Bree’s a suck up?”
“I...” Ah shit, what did he mean? He had no idea why Bree got picked for the role over him, he just knew it burned. Which gave Dan the perfect opening.
“You mean your smart admirable bosses chose Bree not because of any sexual favours or even the promise of them, not because she’s got good tits, but because she’s more suitable than you.”
“Fuck no.”
