He shrugs again. “She doesn’t see me the way I see her.”
I finish washing the last of the glasses and dry my hands. “Have you made a move?”
“No.”
“How come?” I twist around to see him. “Nothing ventured, nothing gained, right?”
“It’s just… I don’t want to ruin the friendship. I’m afraid if I screw it up, she won’t even want to be friends anymore.”
“Hey, don’t look at me. I don’t have the answer.”
Zack gives a short laugh and turns away, arranging more glasses on the shelves. “Right.”
I’d like to help, but my life is a complete mess. It’s just that most people don’t know because I try to avoid talking about it. Maybe my experience with Grant made me become even more private, but I don’t want to turn into a source of somebody’s entertainment. I have so little that I can’t afford to lose anything.
Still, nothing ventured reallyisnothing gained. You don’t get anywhere waiting for life to give you stuff.
I pat Zack’s shoulder. “Just remember—the brave shall inherit the earth.”
A customer enters the bar and approaches. I paste on a bright smile and take his order.
Love and dreams are for fairytales, another luxury I can’t afford. Reality requires that I make money.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Grant
Aspen doesn’t text me back. She must’ve decided to ignore me, like she did when she took the things I gave her and split. The memory still hurts, but I force it aside. I will not continue to give it the power to humiliate me.
I’m focusing on what matters: she’s my assistant, and I expect her to respond. And not leave until I tell her it’s okay to do so. I wouldn’t have stayed and watched the news on YouTube until twelve thirty if I’d known she was already gone. I would’ve napped, because I don’t really have any work to do over the weekend and I’m tired from the lack of sleep. Although I’m generally high-functioning on four to five hours of sleep, three and a half for five consecutive days is pushing it.
I grit my teeth. Small price to pay to get rid of her.
But after a long nap this afternoon, I’m feeling more rested. And I’m not going to waste Sunday either. I know this war’s going to be hard, since she undoubtedly went home to make up for the lack of sleep.
–Me: Show up at 4:30 a.m. tomorrow for the team building. It doesn’t stop on Sundays.
If she doesn’t check that message, it’s on her. I’ll give her the most epic reaming of her life so she’ll have no choice but to quit.
I know what everyone whispers at GrantEm when they think I’m not listening. Emmett is an outright dick because he says what he thinks without any softening. He’s a firm believer in the unvarnished truth. I, on the other hand, don’t swing the ax of truth at associates. That’s why I’m the nice one…with one caveat. Don’t cross me to the point where I’ll release my inner demon. I’ve only done it twice at the firm, over the gross incompetence of one analyst and one associate. Both of their eyes turned red with unshed tears of humiliation, and they resigned because they knew their careers at GrantEm were over.
Imagining Aspen crying makes me… I can’t decide what I’m feeling. Not satisfaction. I know what that’s like. Not victorious. Angry, maybe? Petty… Just a little bit of fuck-you, but…
Maybe a trace of sadness. Like…why the hell did it have to be like this?
I shake myself mentally. What the fuck?Shescrewedme. Of course it has to be like this! There is no other outcome that would be fair and right. She could’ve just quit when she realized I was going to be her boss, but she didn’t. So it’s on her and no one else. I’ll go dancing when she resigns in tears.
On Sunday, Aspen shows up on time. There are dark circles that look like bruises under her bloodshot eyes. Didn’t she sleep after leaving the office? She presses her lips together to hide a yawn, like yawning overtly would be admitting defeat.
Damn it. She’s a tough opponent. But I’m tougher. Meaner. And more determined.
Something Griffin’s wife Sierra said crosses my mind. She mentioned that her ex used makeup to create fake bruises on his face to garner sympathy. It’s possible that Aspen is doing the same. She’s a girl, so she’s gotta know what she needs to create convincing dark circles. There’s no reason for her tonotsleep like a lazy sloth all day long after she left the office yesterday.
God, how stupid am I? I almost got suckeredagain. I’m going to teach her I’m not the naïve idiot I used to be. Looking back on it, I was just pussy-whipped.
“Let’s go,” I say, my voice hard.
And we run. Actually, I’m running, and she’s barely keeping up. The back of my skull prickles constantly. Is she glaring at me? If we were in New Orleans, she would’ve visited a voodoo shop to buy a curse.
