Page 2 of Come to Bed

“It’s nine a.m.,” Oliver chastised as he watched my every move.

It made me suddenly uncomfortable. I could practically feel the lecture he was building up to.

I shrugged my shoulder in faux ease and brought him a glass.

He took it without further comment and gestured for me to sit. I threw the scotch back before taking a seat. I should just sip it, savor the flavor and whatnot, but oh well. The mahogany woodsy flavor was reminiscent of the man currently judging me. I gulped the burn away.

Settling into the chair, I attempted to be my most professional self.

“I know what Harry did was awful,” Oliver paused as if searching for the right words, “but can you please stop watching that video on our internet? Our IT team keeps informing me every time a lewd image appears. You know how they are after we had that incident with Peter.”

Shit, rookie mistake. Never use public Wi-Fi when watching your ex dick-down someone else. “Apologies, boss man. I know you don’t want another Pegging Peter incident.”

Let’s just say I left all cylindrical objects alone on his desk after he was fired. His sparkly stapler was on mine now though—right on top of my pile of manhwas—it was one of my favorite possessions. I may have a bit of an obsession with anything bright and colorful.

Oliver’s brow wrinkled and his full lips flattened into a line. He sighed, exasperated. “Look. You have two more weeks of this moping bullshit. Then you need to cut it out. You didn’t even love the man.”

“Oh, so it’s tough-love-bestie Oliver then?” I straightened in my seat and gave him my most cantankerous expression.

His face finally relaxed into a smile. He brought his scotch up, sipping it slowly. How incredibly proper of him.“We both know I’m only the figurehead, not the actual boss here. Why you choose to work amongst the lot still confuses me.”

He wasn’t wrong. This company was technically mine, but I didn’t especially like it. When I started, we were a marketing platform to promote the underdog. Now it felt like all we did was help schedule posts and keep up with trends on social media. I enjoyed the back side of it: finding patterns, tracking algorithms, projecting shifts. Unfortunately, I didn’t particularly have the model beauty that sold—tall, skinny, and all sharp angles—so early on I asked Oliver to be the face of the company.

“Why do I feel hated by my coworker…” I wracked my head for the woman’s name that sat next to me. “Sue,” I decided on.

Oliver’s shit-eating grin somehow expanded. “Well for starters, her name is Kathy.”

I shrugged; he couldn’t convince me those were different names. Sues and Kathys were the same. If you know, you know.

“And secondly, you really don’t know the rumors?” He was holding in his laughter at this point.

“Rumors?” I questioned.

“You’re fucking the boss to keep your job.” He was full belly laughing now.

“Ha. Ha. Ha,” I replied humorlessly. So maybe occasionally I would get drunk and leave when I felt like it. What’s wrong with working from home?

Oliver sobered. “Are you sure you’re going to be okay? We have our reunion coming up.”

I growled out loud, “Oh, exactly what I need. Why are we going to that again?”

Oliver placed an elegant finger to his beautiful lips. “Marketing perhaps?”

“You’ve got jokes.” At this point, I might rather wear beads out of a New Orleans puddle on Bourbon Street during Mardi Gras than go to this reunion.

“Room is already booked, luxury suite and all. Adjoining rooms. A spa. It’ll be a vacation.” Oliver was clearly enjoying my misery.

Hah. Our high school was exactly the last place I aspired to go. I was the overweight scholarship girl that wore hand-me-downs, but Oliver had a point. This would be an excellent marketing opportunity. Half of our old classmates were D-class celebrities that could switch to our company for all their self-promotion needs. More importantly, I could flaunt as the confident epicurean businesswoman I became.

Another unfortunate annoyance was my step-sister; she would undoubtedly be at the reunion. I wondered if she would bring precious Harry as her date. No, thank you.

When my father passed unexpectedly, my mother immediately upended our lives and moved us across the country. During that period, our relationship deteriorated, and we grew incredibly distant. We hadn’t fully unpacked into our new home, when my mother met my step-sister’s dear old dad at a school event. After they married, I only spoke to my mother at our sporadic family dinners, and even that felt unbearable.

My father. Fuck, I missed him. I was the queen of pushing my feelings deep into the recesses of my mind and I still hadn’t processed his death even after all these years. It might have something to do with the lack of closure. My mother didn’t bother to plan a funeral for him before we were hightailing it across state lines and changing our last names to further “distance” us from the pain.

I rolled my head between my shoulders to release some of my anxiety and relinquish the memories of him.

I would go to therapy. One day.

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