“Incredible decor,” he said. “I’m a big admirer of good interior decorating.”
Which is like saying you subscribe to Playboy for the articles.
Now he’s looking back and forth between me and Chelsea like he wants to be the meat in our cheese sandwich.
Uninvited, he drags a chair over from the table next to us and sits down.
“Okay, you don’t have to ignore me so aggressively, ladies. You’re starting to look desperate.”
We laugh politely at his dumb joke and share a pained glance.
“So how’s your first week working for the Grinch been, Shay?”
I’d rather gouge out my own eyeballs than tell this moron anything negative about Cole, so I smile brightly. “Wonderful. He’s really great.”
Dylan makes a face. “That’s not the word I’d use. Cole McCord is an asshole.”
I don’t like Dylan using Cole’s first name. It seems too familiar and disrespectful. More than that, I don’t like him calling him an asshole. That’s reserved for me, and I’d never say it aloud to someone else. Especially a co-worker.
Irritated, I wipe the smile off my face and stare at him coldly. He doesn’t notice. He’s too busy looking at Chelsea’s cleavage.
“Cole?” she says, munching on a tortilla chip. “Why does that name sound familiar?”
I send her a meaningful look. She falls still, then her eyes widen. She mouths No!
Luckily, Dylan decides then to ask us if he can buy us a round of drinks. Wanting to get rid of him, I say no thanks and hope he’ll go away, but Chelsea never misses the opportunity to take advantage of her pretty-girl-free-drinks privilege and says yes.
“Two skinny margaritas, please. You’re a doll.”
“Be right back, ladies.”
He rises, puffs out his chest, and looks around to make sure everyone nearby sees he’s got two women at his table as if we’re his harem.
The moment he’s gone, Chelsea leans forward and hisses, “Cole? The Cole?”
“The very same.”
“What the fuck, bitch? How did you not tell me this before?”
“I only found out the day I started that he was my boss.”
“You’ve been working there for a week already!”
“I know, but we haven’t talked all week.”
“You should’ve called me first thing Monday morning! You twat! I hate you!” Eyes shining with excitement, she leans closer and lowers her voice to a whisper. “Tell me everything.”
I give her a brief overview of the situation, starting with Cole slamming his office door in my face and ending with me accidentally signing off as Ms. McCord on the inter-office memo. When I’m done, she slumps back into her chair and stares at me in amazement.
“What are the odds that you end up working for the same guy you had a one-night stand with?”
“Astronomical. I blame you for the whole thing.”
She laughs. “And you’re welcome.”
“No, I’m not welcome. It’s a disaster.”
“Does anyone else know?”
“Nobody. I’m taking it to my grave.”
“So I can only tell Angel and Jen.”
“Nobody, Chelsea. This is too problematic.”
“How is it problematic?”
“I fucked my boss!”
“So?”
“So it’s unethical.”
She scoffs. “It’s not like it was intentional.”
“Oh, it was intentional all right.”
She grabs my wrist, gasping. “Wait, did you do it again?”
“No. And we won’t because there’s a strict company policy against it. Plus, I don’t think we like each other.”
“Who cares if you like each other? The man is smoking hot and left you walking on clouds! Get back on that baloney pony and ride it into the sunset!”
I shake my head in disbelief. “You’re the epitome of romantic. Let go of my wrist.”
She does, only to pick up another tortilla and chomp on it. Juicy gossip always makes her hungry.
Dylan returns with two margaritas and sets them on the table. “House specials, ladies. Drink up. I’ll be right back. Gotta get my beer.”
As soon as he’s out of earshot, Chelsea starts in again. “I’m literally going to kill you for making me wait to hear this. How do you want to die?”
“Shut up.”
“I know, I’ll call up your hot boss and ask him if he could please fuck you to death.” She makes a goofy face and mimics humping.