I find a spot in the back near a fireplace, wondering idly why the fuck they have a fireplace in Vegas, when a cute waitress approaches to take my order. Not trusting my stomach not to revolt, I just ask for coffee.
“Make that two,” Graham tells her as he approaches from behind her, making her jolt.
She nods her head and scurries off to do our bidding.
“You look like shit,” he remarks as he opens the button on his dark-gray suit jacket and sits in the chair opposite mine.
“Fuck you,” I retort light-heartedly.
“I’ll pass,” he answers dryly, making me chuckle then groan when my headache reappears with a vengeance.
“How did it go, anyway?” I ask him, even though he kept me relatively updated by texting through the night, not that I found the messages until this morning.
“It's pretty much a done deal. Parker and Johnson are coming by my office on Monday to sign the contracts. Just make sure you turn up for that. There are only so many times I can tell them your grandmother died before they get suspicious.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll be there,” I reply as the waitress places our coffees on the table in front of us.
“What time is your flight?” he asks before taking a sip, seeming impervious to the scalding temperature.
I check my watch before answering. “In a couple of hours. Yours?” I look around as the restaurant starts to fill with hotel guests emerging from their rooms in search of food.
“Not until this evening. I have another meeting scheduled for two—if my useless secretary didn’t fuck that up as well,” he grumbles.
I laugh, ignoring the thumping in my skull.
“What is it with you and your secretaries? It's like you're going for the most likely to quit world record.”
“Good staff are hard to find. Apparently, my current one can’t even source a pitcher of water.” He waves me off when I start to speak, letting me know he’s done talking about it.
“I’ve got to go,” he tells me as he finishes his coffee and stands.
“We’ll grab lunch on Monday after the contracts are signed. You’re buying,” he throws over his shoulder as he walks out, leaving a twenty on the table for the waitress.
I take my time finishing my coffee, letting my eyes rove over the now busy room and briefly wonder if the woman from my bed this morning is here somewhere, but I shake off that thought. Vaguely, I recall her saying she was here for the same meeting I was, so she’s likely long gone by now, which is just as well. I don’t go back for seconds unless the woman knows beforehand what she’s getting—ultimately nothing more than a series of fucks before I swap her out for someone else so she doesn’t form any unwanted attachments.
As I’m swallowing the last mouthful of my coffee, I have the startling revelation that I’m far more like my father than I realized.
Three
Linda
Another day, another mirror, and I can’t say I like my reflection any more than I did back in my hotel room in Vegas. I finish swiping on the coat of mascara that darkens and lengthens my lashes and call it good.
Today I’m in smart black Capri pants, with a white chiffon, long-sleeved blouse that has a bow at the neck. The long sleeves cover the tattoos as per usual, but I chose this top for the knotted bow at my neck, which hides the fading teeth marks from the man I haven’t been able to get off my mind. Not since he kicked me out the morning after the night we spent together.
I turn from the mirror and slip my black wedge heeled sandals on my feet, promising myself that if I make it through the week—fuck, if I just make it through today—I’ll treat myself to another tattoo. Lord fucking knows I deserve one, and something tells me that today is going to be the kind of Monday that will drive me to drink.
I head to the office early, not wanting anything to set Graham off again. Not after enduring his ten-minute speech about fucking secretaries and their incompetence because of me getting locked out of that godforsaken room. Even though it was the asshole's fault in the first place.
Technically, I don’t start until nine, but for the six weeks… Jesus, has it only been six weeks? It feels like six soul-sucking years that I’ve been here. Anyway, yeah, I’m contracted to start at nine, but I’ve been arriving thirty minutes early every day since the start.
Today, I’m not taking any chances and decide I’d better make it in an hour earlier, just in case.
Passing through the main doors, I offer a smile to the receptionist that goes unreturned and head to the bank of elevators at the back of the building. I take a deep breath and give myself a mental pep talk.
I can do this. I have been doing this. Although it’s by far the worst job I’ve ever had, I still turn up and do my best every single day. Today will be no different, and after the shittastic weekend in Vegas, it’s hardly likely to be any worse.
Taking another deep breath and letting it out slowly, I smooth my hair back, which is in a low ponytail today, and stand tall.
Come on, Linda, time to suck it up. Things can always be worse.
The doors slide open with a ding, and I walk out into the air-conditioned corridor leading to Graham's office and my desk just outside it. Once there, I hang my purse on the back of the chair, fire up the computer, and start making my way through today's list of tasks.
Graham is in back-to-back meetings for most of the day, so at least my interactions with him will be minimal. At 8:45, I make my way over to the staff breakroom and fix Graham his morning coffee before heading to his office that I know he has likely been in since six this morning.
I knock lightly and wait patiently for a response.
I don't have to wait long before he yells through the door, “What?”
“Coffee, sir,” I call out, keeping my voice even and professional even though in my mind I’m inside his office pouring coffee all over his lap.
“Well, hurry up then, before it goes cold,” he yells again, so I open his door and make my way to his desk. Placing it gently on the edge, I turn to leave before his next words stop me.
“Is everything set up for my 9:30?” he barks, and I blink for a second, wondering how likely I am to get off with an insanity plea if I snap and strangle him with his tie.
“Yes, sir. Stephanie will meet everyone in reception and show them to the conference room for you. I’ll have refreshments ready once everyone is seated.”
“Hmm…let’s hope you’re more successful in your duties today than last time then,” he says as he turns away, clearly dismissing me.
What a fucking tool.
I see myself out, catch up on unanswered emails, and keep my head down when twenty minutes later, Graham leaves his office. Thankfully, he ignores me as he heads to the elevator. I finish my tasks before checking the time and decide to get the drinks set up now so I don't disturb everyone once the meeting has started.
I make it to the conference room before anyone else and line up the cups on saucers with shiny silver teaspoons beside each cup. I hear the door open and voices talking as the room begins to fill behind me. Shutting it out, I concentrate on my task at hand, pouring coffee into each of the eight cups. I figure instead of just asking how everyone takes theirs, I will add the sugar bowl and the jug with the creamer to the table so people can help themselves.