So, here we are. My life, in perfect sync with our plumbing: a complete, unadulterated shitshow.
???
“Be honest—is my butt perkier?” Abigail asks, doing a little twirl in front of my desk. “Butt Buildr says to do a hundred donkey kicks a day, but I tapped out at fifty because I was bored out of my mind.”
I tear my eyes away from the campaign I’m editing about the I-see-dead-people-on-a-plane woman, just in time to catch Abigail trying to channel her inner Nicki Minaj.
“Uh, yeah, definitely perkier,” I say, trying to sound like I know what a perky butt looks like at nine a.m. on a Wednesday.
Over at her desk, Kayla is trying hard not to spit out her coffee from laughing.
“I’m going for the full Kardashian,” Abigail elaborates, because clearly, I looked interested.
Never have I been more grateful for an interruption than when Vicky strides by.
I jump up, following her down the aisle. She’s been dodging my meeting requests for days. Time to pin her down.
“Hey, Vicky, got a minute?” I call out, hurrying to catch up. “Now that we’ve landed Quinn & Wolfe Hotels, I was hoping we could chat about my salary—”
She whirls around, one eyebrow arching sky-high. “Right, but we also lost Willow’s account, didn’t we?”
She’s got me there, but still, I’ve worked my ass off for her, for years.
I feel my face catch fire with humiliation. “Connor’s deal dwarfs anything Willow brought in.
Vicky smirks. “Oh we’re on a first name basis now? Tell me, how cozy have you gotten with our latest star client?”
I blink, taken aback.
Her eyes gleam with undisguised triumph.
“Figured as much,” she drawls, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “For someone supposedly so morally upright, you certainly use your assets well landing clients.”
She just had to say it loud enough for the whole office to hear.
The place goes library-quiet, as though someone hit the mute button on life. Keyboards freeze mid-clack, phones suddenly become less interesting.
Abigail can’t resist; she lets out anoohthat practically bounces off the walls,
I make a conscious effort not to make eye contact with anyone.
“No judgment, Lexi. Snag those clients by whatever means necessary. Just don’t ruffle the feathers of their better halves, particularly if they’re also cutting our checks.”
My irritation spikes. “That relationship was fake, Vicky.”
She gives me atsk. “Well, Willow was still upset. Never mind, she’ll forget you now that Connor’s been seen cozying up to that hot new professor in town.”
Professor? My stomach plummets as I struggle to keep my face straight.
This is the last place I wanted to hear about Connor moving on, surrounded by coworkers whose eyes bore into me, searching for a reaction.
I dig my fingernails into my palms. Truth is, I’ve banned myself from searching anything related to Connor.
“Anyway,” Vicky breezes on, oblivious to my internal crisis. “I’ll try to smooth things over with her. Oh, and by the way, Jenny’s leaving. You’ll do the handover this week.”
I blink, her words barely cutting through the thick Connor haze. “Why?”
“You’re going to be taking on her workload from now on.” She says it with such a light, airy tone, you’d think she was asking if I’d mind looking after her half-dead houseplants over the weekend.
