I’ve been in bed lying in a supine position, with my hands behind my head, for exactly thirty-five minutes and have come to the conclusion that I will never sleep again. Not until I understand why Owens would want to resign.
It makes zero sense.
She’s got to be fucking with my head.
I’m the perfect boss to work for. We get along. I pay her well. She’s a natural as my second-in-command. What else could her ungrateful ass want?
Dammit! I’m out of vodka and Tylenol PM. I need sleep. I need some clarity. I’m going to call her. It’s the only thing left to do. She answers on the third ring.
“Coop?”
“Were you sleeping?”
It’s obvious she was in a deep sleep. Damn deserter. Probably dreaming about whatever the hell girls like Owens dream about. Puppies, rappers, Louis Vuitton bags. Hell, if I know. I’m just glad I woke her ass up. How dare she sleep like a baby after the bomb she just dropped on me.
“Everyone living in the Eastern Standard Time zone is sleeping. It’s almost three a.m.”
“I just want to be clear.”
“About?”
“Your announcement comes at a very inconvenient time for me.”
“When would have been a better time to announce that I’m moving on?”
“Don’t be a smart-ass, Owens. It doesn’t become you.”
Actually, she’s always been a smart-ass. It’s one of the things I find most endearing about her.
“Say what you called to say, Mr. Barnes.”
“Oh, it’s Mr. Barnes now?”
“It probably should have always been Mr. Barnes. We’ve totally been way too casual with each other.”
Is that why she’s leaving? She wants me to be a dickhead boss? What a masochist.
“Then I’ll keep thingsnot so casualwith you. You can’t just leave. I’ve given you way too much responsibility. So, you’ve got thirty days to hire and train a suitable replacement. I have too many good things going on in my life right now for a change in assistants to mess it up. I want a smooth transition. It’s the least that you owe me for giving you such an amazing opportunity.”
**Soft snoring.**
“OWENS!”
“I heard you,” she says sleepily. “Thirty days. Replacement. I’m on it.”
I end the call abruptly.
Pissed more than ever.
Bright-eyed and bushy-tailed.
I make another call.
“Hello?”
My friend and teammate Saint answers the phone with a gravelly voice. I realize it’s three in the morning, but if I can’t get a decent night’s sleep then neither should my quarterback.
“Hey.”
