Page 19 of Catfish

“Ow, is it Jack Munrole?” Emmy Lou asks with a glint of hope in her eyes.

“Why, is he your next victim, Emmy?” Chase jeers, tugging back on his beer.

She straightens her back and folds her hands into her lap. “Absolutely not. I don’t have victims. I just help Wade with making sure we don’t have any dishonest people in our midst.”

A smile tugs at Chase’s lips. “Like Jack Munrole.”

My assistant lets out a sharp huff and turns her gaze to me. “Please tell your friend to stop harassing your assistant. I’m busy.”

“You should be busy at the office instead of hopping a plane to the Carribean just to make sure I don’t miss Career Day,” I upbraid before her eyes turn back into slits.

“That wasn’t all I came here to talk about,” she quips, rearranging her papers. “Friday, we have a meeting with the designer to customize your headers and banners. We need to come up with a slogan and—”

“It can say big tits only apply,” Chase utters under his breath before a pink pen flies in his direction and hits him in the chest.

“And the caterer will have the taste testing for the fundraiser ready on Thursday,” she adds, shooting Chase one more glower before focusing back on her notes.

“I don’t care about that shit as long as it’s edible, you know that, Em.”

She pulls a purple pen out of her binder—with a bunny on it—and checks something off. “Umm...the colors I was thinking are shades of blue for napkins, balloons, chair coverings, maybe a soft black for the table covers. The goody bags can be—”

“The goody bags?” Chase repeats. “Is this a birthday party or a fundraiser for Democratic election?”

“Goody bags aren’t candy, Chase,” Em counters. “I’m not basic.”

Chase leans forward, elbows propped on his knees. “What’s in your goody bag, Emmy?”

I thrust my elbow into his arm. “Keep your dick in your pants and go find out how much longer this flight is.” He stands, keeping his eyes fixed on my assistant that he’s been secretly trying to bang since I hired her years ago.

“Sure thing. I’ll be back in a minute.” He turns towards the direction of the pilot while Emmy watches him leave.

“I don’t know how you could stand being around him for three days surrounded by water,” she snarks. “I would’ve tried to drown him.”

"He wasn't trying to get down my pants the whole time," I reply. "But he did try to get me to sleep with him in bed one night." Her brow raises, but I continue on. "I approve the blues; it's different from the normal red, white, and blue. The slogan, I'll get back to you on. I'll meet you at the tailor's tomorrow, and I'll let you pick out the food for the fundraiser, I trust your judgment."

She gives me a weak grin and a small nod. "Okay. I'll throw next week's things in our calendar, so it links to your phone, but I'll go over the details with you over lunch as well."

I steer my attention back out the window. “Sounds good, Emmy, thank you.”

“Which brings me to our next portion of the agenda.” And my head snaps right back to her.

“Emmy, I’m seriously about to lose my shit on you. How much more could’ve happened in the three days I was gone?”

“Your mother.”

“Geezus Christ.” I bring my hand up to rub my left temple. “What the fuck now?”

She rhythmically starts tapping her pen in one of her palms. “She wants to bring your brother and sister to the fundraiser.”

The temperature of my blood just brimmed over in a boil within my veins.

Just the mention of my siblings, on my way back from vacation nonetheless, makes me want to rip Em’s stupid binder in half and say fuck this whole thing.

Instead, I practice my cool veneer and inhaling a very deep breath as I try to siphon some of that cool-as-a-cucumber superpower that Em has.

“She wants to bring my pill-popping sister and my sex-craved brother out in public with a bunch of important people who are going to help finance my campaign?”

My assistant nods her head slowly. "I told her that I would talk to you about it, but this isn't me talking about it. I’m just trying to think of a reason to say no.”

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