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“Two months? That’s a fucking short curly haired timeline.” I grimace. “What? Stop it, prude. Why is this so complicated?”

“You’ve met Eva and Rinaldi. In Roman times they would have run the gladiator pits. Mostly to wear elaborate gold outfits, but they live for competition as well.”

They pay exceedingly well and they’re not assholes, just tilted, so I’m fine with their brand of chaos. But Eva and Rinaldi are over the top bizarre and insanely successful. We’re not sure if they’re brother and sister or married. It’s a toss-up. They always wear matching outfits and speak in vaguely European accents, but rumor has it they’re from Tampa.

Sophie says, “Game fucking on, I got your back. I’m suited up, bring on the lions.”

“Or like in Game of Thrones, we’d be jousting, and you’d be forging my lance.”

“Did you even watch the show?” Sophie sighs.

Of course I did but I’m always preoccupied when I watch TV. I get the gist. “You’d be my Dinklage, Tyrion Lannister.”

“I drink and know things. I’ll take it.” Sophie turns away.

“I thought it was drink and forge things. That he was the secret guy forge master. With the space rings. You know, one ring to rule them all.”

Sophie stands up and her face is almost red. “So much of that was no. Are you thinking of Dinklage in Avengers: Endgame, where he made the new hammer thing for Thor? With a twist of The Lord of Rings thrown in there? Dinklage wasn’t in that.”

“Sure. Sure. I’m a bad geek. I don’t hold those details. All hail those who can remember and glorify those details.”

“Stop watching fantasy, it’s confusing for everyone around you.”

I shoot her a finger gun. I’m better with books.

I wink at her and respond to upper management that we’re staying on. Bring on the pitches, bitches!

As she walks out I yell,

“Fetch me a timeturner, Sassenach!”

She flips me off and yells as she enters the hallway, “Just, no.”

HAYDEN

I push my dark hair out of my face. I go through phases and right now I want to be shielded so I grew it long. I roll up my sleeves and mosey back to my desk. I’ve been sitting with HR learning how to let people go. My world is going to implode around here. My partner, Dax, waves from his desk as I pass by. We have adjoining offices so we can work together easily. But I’m the Senior Project Manager and Creative Director so I get to pass out the pink slips.

I’ve got to let Dax know what’s about to go down with pitches and our ascent to New York. It’s more of a formality. No one can hold a candle to what we do in this company except that Chicago thorn in my side. But we can best her.

My artistry in graphic design is fantastic, and the woman she works with is great, but I’m younger and hungrier, and we have such different styles. So I’ll keep her on, but Bette’s out. No room for her annoying ass in my department.

I’m walking through the halls, trying to muster my big dick energy before I head into the boss’s office to weasel intel on the upcoming secret project.

There’s snickering behind my back. I turn around and it stops. This is never good. I grab a Nerf gun off the arsenal wall outside the break room and shoot a round into the cubicles.

“Did I sit in something? What’s funny? Don’t make me take a hostage.” No one says anything from the bullpen. Dax is holding a piece of paper, leaning on his doorframe, smiling. My assistant, Monica, walks by and I grab her and put the Nerf gun to her stomach.

“No suh, Hayden. It’s just a stupid freakin drawing. Get over it,” she says in her pert little Boston accent.

“What drawing? Someone tell me or I let her have it. Your lunch orders will be all messed up.” Everyone’s laughing with me now, the way I like it. With me, not at me. I love giving surprises but I like to have all the information. Can’t stand a thing done behind my back.

Dax flips the page, showing me our Burbs cola mock-up. I shuffle Monica over towards Dax without removing the Nerf gun from her side to get a better look. Everyone’s laughing. I yank the paper from Dax.

Instead of the logo in the center of the soda can, it’s a one-finger salute. And placed below the logo is a small eggplant. My name is underneath the emoji penis and it reads: To scale drawing.

I laugh so people won’t know it bothers me. “Fine. I’ve been a little wrapped up lately, who did this? Everybody have a copy?” They all raise a one.

Monica giggles. “It went to every printah in the building.”