“Vaughn gave it to his baby brother. The guy is barely qualified. He just graduated. I looked at his file, Adam. His GPA was a two point five. He spent most of his senior year on academic probation, and now they want to hire him as managing editor for the Jet Times? I’ve been working here for seven years. Seven years! I’ve busted my ass. Hell, I’ve already been doing the job for Vaughn without the title! And now he’s going to be working alongside his baby brother who knows absolutely nothing about this business, and who’s going to be left to pick up the slack? Me.”
Adam rocked on his stool slightly. “I can understand why that would be frustrating,” he stated.
“I just feel like it doesn’t matter what I do. It’s all about who you know or who your parents are. I thought Vaughn was better than that.”
Vaughn Richards, my boss, was the owner of our publication as well as the editor in chief. His wealthy socialite mother promoted him just before I started working there when I graduated from college. Vaughn ran the Jet Times seamlessly and ethically. When he wasn’t overseeing the newspaper, he was in the field. Investigative journalism was always his first love. He liked rolling up his sleeves and diving into the story while traveling the world. I honestly didn’t know how he did it all.
Adam glanced at me out of the corner of his eye. He was wearing a soft red sweater and his signature denim jeans. The bar we were in was decorated with flashing Christmas lights, but it was still quiet. The evening rush hadn’t started yet.
“Did you know that by age thirty, about twenty-two percent of American sons will be working for the same employer as their fathers?” Adam asked before pulling out his trusty notebook. “It’s also more common in the United States than anywhere else. The Jet Times is owned by your boss’s mother, right?”
I picked up my cocktail and took a drink. “Yes. But that still doesn’t make it right. I’m not even surprised,” I choked out after gulping some of the strong concoction. “The glass ceiling isn’t made of glass. It’s steel. I should have taken the month off like my parents suggested and gone to South Korea with them to visit my grandparents for the holidays.”
Adam picked up his room temperature glass of water and took a small sip. “But we have Christmas plans. Did you get the itinerary I sent you?”
I smiled. “Yes. I put it all in my calendar, down to the hot cocoa at 9:06 Christmas Eve,” I replied sarcastically. “Also, I might need to veto the matching pajamas you picked out.”
“But the onesie is cozy and had four thousand five-star reviews for softness on Amazon.” Adam looked appalled that I didn’t like the flannel zip up pajamas he’d picked.
I’d already ordered the damn onesie but liked challenging Adam. It was good for him. “At least I still have a week and a half off. Not even Christmas in New York can brighten my mood. Isn’t it supposed to be the most wonderful time of the year?”
“Technically no, stress levels are at an all-time high during the holiday season. Statistically, I could show you the rate of mental health—”
“No, thank you,” I interrupted, a bit snappier than I intended.
“Are you mad because you don’t get to spend more time with your boss, Vaughn? This job would have given you a reason to work closer with him. I know you would like to have intercourse with him.”
“Fuck, Adam. You can’t just say that out loud.” I looked around the bar. Sometimes my coworkers liked to come here since it was so close to the office.
“Why not?” he asked, his brows dipped in confusion. “It’s true. You’re a woman. He’s a virile man. It’s perfectly natural.”
“Because it’s embarrassing. He’s never acted even remotely interested in me.”
“Have you stated your intentions? Explained that you would like to have sex with him?”
I blinked. “When was I supposed to do that? In the middle of a meeting? You can’t just say that to people, Adam. Please tell me you don’t say that to women.”
“There is nothing wrong with politely stating your needs and intentions, Sena. And for the record, I can statistically support the theory that most women prefer a man who is upfront. I can email you a graph I made. I’m quite popular with other professors at the university. You’d be particularly interested in the control group of women above twenty-five.”
“Yeah, just send that right on over then,” I replied in a dry tone. Adam was hot, smart, thorough, and upfront. Even though he was a major nerd, he still had game at the university where he was a physics professor. I had no doubts that he found plenty of women willing to be in his control group.
“You’re being sarcastic,” Adam stated.
I pulled cash out of my purse and paid for my drink, dreading the upcoming holiday party. I would have brought Adam as my date, but he isn’t a fan of socializing. “You could always go work with Mary in San Francisco?” Adam suggested. “She’s offered you a very good compensation and benefits package that is at least four percent better than your current wages, with more opportunity for growth.”
My shoulders slumped. I knew I had a job whenever I wanted it in San Francisco. Mary and I had gone to college together, and she was desperate to bring me on at her new magazine that was taking the tech world by storm. It was an amazing opportunity…but I loved New York.
“And miss out on all our weekly adventures?” I asked while clutching my chest and smiling at Adam. “I could never.”
Adam relaxed a bit. I hadn’t realized the suggestion of me leaving had bothered him so much. “I’m not planning on leaving you anytime soon, Adam.”
Adam nodded and fidgeted for a moment before replying. “Have fun at the holiday party. You’ve already had two drinks, and with your current body mass index and the alcohol content of your preferred drink of choice, you should probably limit yourself to one alcoholic beverage every seventy-two minutes for the remainder of the night. Also, you are ovulating, so you should make sure you have protection should you decide to have intercourse tonight.”
What the fuck? Somehow, I wasn’t even surprised. “How do you know I’m ovulating, Adam?” I asked while massaging my temples.
He pulled out his phone and opened his calendar. “According to my period tracker, you started—”
“Enough. Please, whatever you were about to say, just don’t.” Of course Adam tracked my periods. He probably was writing a thesis about women’s cycles and how it correlated to their moods. “Is this why you always bring chocolate ice cream over when I’m on my period?!” I asked. “I should have known it wasn’t a coincidence.”
“Day three is your heavier flow. I just assumed—”
I shook my head. “Nope. We are not going there. I am so sorry that I asked.”
“Be safe. Have fun at the party,” Adam said with a proud grin while straightening his spine. “Call if you need anything.”
“Will do,” I replied with a chuckle before waving goodbye to my friend and exiting the bar.
Chapter 2
I absolutely did not stick to Adam’s drink advice.