“I can put you into his voicemail. That's about it," I tell Wesley.
“I have his direct number, so that's unnecessary."
“Oh, okay." I'm not sure what else I can say.
“Well, call me if you change your mind. Have a good day," I say to the man I almost slept with last night but didn't because I got too tired, and most likely fell asleep with his dick in my mouth.
I throw my head back, feeling guilty. We had fun last night, but I don't know enough about him, and he could beusing me to get to Mick. As much as I wish I didn't have to care, I know I'm stuck in this stupid situation.
I enter Wesley's number into my phone in case I change my mind, butit will sit in the same untouched group of other guys' names I met one time at a bar somewhere.
“All right, meeting in five, Madelyn. We have a new project and we'll need you to assist on some tasks," Mick shouts from the doorway of the conference room. I guess they weren't in a pow-wow about a potential lawsuit or the fact that Michelle got the boot this morning. So, the saga continues.
Let me guess … today's campaign is for sperm donors, and we will need to get last year's Miss America to star in the ad.
That would be the worst, best ad.
