Page 6 of Unleashed

“Oh, Hadley.” Betsy waves her off but doesn’t remove her bulging eyes from my chest. I notice her hair is even shorter now. Not in a creative way, but more of her grabbing Val’s zig-zag scissors and cutting her hair in a tornado. “Come on! You’re not the same Rod who left here. Look at those muscles! You have more hair! You even smell better.” Ding Dong leans closer to me and sniffs the air between us. It’s bullshit that I’m not dead.

Trying to ignore the rest, I say, “It’s Greg.”

She blinks, giving me a reprieve. But then she screws up her homely mug. “Huh?”

Slower, I state, “Greg. My name is Greg. It has been since birth. Ask my parents.” Well, it’s Gregory, but I don’t need her squealing that all the time.

Betsy snorts, and I vow to get rid of my snorting habit. “Well, duh!”

“So, use it.”

“But why? Everyone calls you Rod.”

“How ‘bout I call you Bessie?” Betsy’s eyes widen into outhouse buckets. I shrug. “Since that’s your real name. Right?”

“No! It’s Betsy.” She frowns and moves away from me. Morgan, the evil bitch known for her malicious nature, had a knack for uncovering secrets about her colleagues. Betsy was born Bessie Lou Best. Awesome name for an award-winning farm animal. But she’s no prize. It’s rumored that both her father and mother squirted her out on a tractor while tilling illegal marijuana. Maybe I started that rumor.

And there goes my breakfast.

Behind Betsy, Brandon Rhodes appears in the doorway. His grin reminds us he’s lord of the manor here. “I thought I heard your voice. Are you here to visit?”

I shake his offered hand as I plan an escape. “Uh, no. Amos begged me to come back. He cried. It was ugly and embarrassing.”

Oblivious to all jokes, Brandon nods. “I’m sorry to hear he was upset. Where were you?”

“Durham. I helped at my aunt’s bar.” I cross my arms, and my can of Dew almost cracks a rib. “So, yeah. I guess you’re all stuck with me.”

Brandon’s grin returns, and his pricey veneers blind me. “That’s fantastic and fits with my news! Conference room in five.”

He leaves, and all three of us sigh. Thankfully, Betsy leaves the room, and Hadley rounds her desk. We’re now feet apart, with nothing separating us. It’s stifling. Crossing my arms again to break a rib on the other side, I nod toward the hallway. “Better get the good seats.”

“Right.”

But before we reach the doorway, I stop and close the door. It’s better to get this shit out of the way and rip off that bandage. “I, um, want to apologize for...that night. I’m sorry, and I’ll never do that to you again. I believed what I felt was more, and I turned into—”

“You already apologized.”

“Yeah, but not in person.” I shake my head, appalled by my actions. “Anyway, we’re friends. You’re in love with Finn Wilder. I know that, and I won’t do anything again to mess up your marriage. I hope you can forgive me.” Please, so I can stop hating myself a little less.

Hadley smiles with a nod. “I accept your apology, Greg. And I agree. Never do that shit to me again, or Finn will have something to say about it. I punched you. Don’t make me do that ever again. Got it?” I nod as her eyes harden, surprising and humbling me. She then bites her lip. “I’m also sorry. I did my share of misleading you, I think. I guess I didn’t consider your feelings being so...”

We stare at each other for another few seconds before I swing open the door and wait for Hadley to go first. This time, I don’t look at her ass, not having that urge anymore. I guess I’ve changed somewhat.

After dumping my jacket and lunch in my still-the-same office and then my Dew at the fridge, we walk into the conference room, where Betsy badmouths me to Shasta, the cunt-cicle. Yep. Things are totally the same here.

Sylvie gasps before toddling over to me in her stilettos. “Rod, you’re back!”

Betsy yips, “It’s Greg now, everyone!”

The room falls silent, though few people are in here yet.

Sylvie asks, “Are you back? Val mentioned you moved away.”

“I went back to my hometown in North Carolina. Helped at my aunt’s bar. Nothing earth-shattering.” Except for tying the knot, making a kid, losing two, and then torching that knot.

Sylvie swings her fancy diamond hoop earrings as she reaches for a bottle of water. “This place wasn’t the same without you.” I could’ve sworn she thought I was the janitor.

Brandon enters the conference room with his briefcase and a smug smile. In his seventies, he’s a rich fucker who lives in a mansion, drives a brand-new Porsche, and fucks a twenty-six-year-old. However, Shasta’s mileage far exceeds the yearly average.

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