I wanted to tell him to go fuck himself because, Jesus Christ, the man was being a complete asshole. But I'd just taken this promotion and I was still feeling my way with him. Once I understood the way his mind worked and why he did the things he did, I could work around him and our interactions would be a lot less irritating. Until then, I'd have to practice biting my tongue until it resembled Swiss cheese.
"I can do that. I'll get back to you shortly," I replied.
"When is shortly?" he asked.
I cleared my throat instead of letting the sharp words I wanted to use slip out. "If all you need is input, I should be able to have something for you within an hour. Two if it's complex."
"Great."
There was a click followed by silence. I moved the phone away from my ear and looked at the screen. He'd hung up.
I let my arm flop back onto the bed. Maybe I could take a nap after I read whatever was in this oh-so-important email.
But first, I needed to get up. And make coffee. Coffee was extremely important.
I rolled over and hauled myself to my feet. My head ached and my body was sore in places best left unmentioned. I guess sex with Ben counted as a workout because I hadn't had this many aches and pains since the last time I tried one of those boot camp classes.
The sex was a lot more fun though.
After a quick trip to the bathroom to take care of business and splash some water on my face, I trudged into the kitchen and found the biggest mug Cam had in her cabinet. It was really more of a bowl and I'd seen her use it to serve soup, but today I needed a vat of coffee and it was the closest thing in size.
I made an eight-ounce cup of coffee, discarded the pod, and made another eight-ounce cup. Sixteen ounces of dark, delicious caffeine. I sorely needed it.
I added a little creamer and sugar to the cup and gulped down almost half, despite the temperature of the liquid.
Ah, I could feel my synapses firing more effectively already.
I carried the coffee into the living room and settled on the couch. I hadn't been joking when I told Ben I preferred to work on the couch in my pajamas. That's exactly what I was going to do right now. I put the cup to the side and pulled my computer onto my lap.
Once I logged into my work email, I clicked on Barnes' message. I scanned the email body and opened the attachment. It was five fucking pages. Seriously?
With a sigh, I grabbed my coffee and drank the rest of it as I read. Basically, my new boss wanted me to suggest ways to solve the problems outlined in the attachment. It was nothing I hadn't done in my previous position, but it also wasn't something in dire need of my immediate attention. I didn't understand why he'd kicked this to me. He should have been able to handle it without my input. Or given it to any other programmer in the office.
Still, the company appreciated initiative, which was how I got my current position. So I read through the attachment twice, made a few notes, and sent a message back to Barnes with my thoughts. It took less than half an hour.
Unfortunately, my body was wide-awake by the time I finished so I had no hope of taking a nap. But my brain also wasn't completely alert yet.
Since coffee was the answer to everything, I made another cup, this time a single, left a mug and a fresh pod ready to go in the coffee maker for when Cam got up, and drank my own caffeine down as I sat on the couch and watched Food Network.
I was giving the notion of breakfast some vague consideration when Cam came out of her room and down the hall.
She hesitated when she saw me, her eyes flicking back and forth between my face and the TV several times before she asked, ""Uh, why are you watching a cooking show?"
The question was completely out of left field so my only response was, "Huh?"
"Why are you watching a cooking show when you don't cook?"
"I cook," I lied. Though I'd told Ben I couldn't cook at all, in truth, I had learned to make a couple of easy things. Like mac n' cheese in a box and tomato soup from a can, but she didn't have to know that. I covered this lie by taking another sip of delicious, yummy, necessary coffee. When she made a sound of disbelief, I continued, "Just because I don't cook well doesn't mean I don't need to know how. When the zombie apocalypse comes, I'll have to eat my own cooking with no backup plan for take-out and I don't want it to suck. Or to die by preventable food poisoning."
Her only response was to shake her head and disappear into the kitchen. Ha! I'd won a battle of wits at six-thirty in the morning. I decided to push my luck and followed her into the kitchen, rubbing my fingers over my scalp as I went. Damn, it felt like a rat's nest. Oh, well. It was just the two of us here. No one to impress.
"What are you doing today? And why are you up so early?" I asked. I thought she said the store was closed on Mondays, yet here she was, bright and early.
"I could ask you the same thing," she retorted.
I answered with a shrug. "My boss called around six and wanted me to handle some things. It didn't take much time, but once I finished, I was wide awake."
"Was there an emergency at work?" Her expression took on a Zen-like peace as she took her first sip of coffee.
