Page 67 of Rich and Bossy

She still has hopes, ideals, dreams. It really seemed like her dreams got crushed out there tonight. I don’t want that. I know exactly what it feels like to have your dreams crushed.

My stomach is in knots and I have to tread really careful. I can’t bring myself to meet John’s gaze, either.

“I don’t think you have anything to worry about. The meeting probably squashed it.” I can’t exactly tell him she straight up told me it’s over. That’d lead to more questions.

“Really? You just said it wouldn’t work earlier. What the hell?”

I shake my head. “Look, just do me a favor? Keep me in the loop on this. I don’t like being in the dark if we’re doing this kind of stuff.”

If he rolls his eyes any harder, they might fall out of his head. “Can you not micromanage me, you fuck? Jesus. I’m doing my job, for us. Maybe I don’t want you to have to know about these things. Plausible deniability. It’s why I don’t tell you.”

“I appreciate you running operations, and fighting for our company, but if this stuff gets out, I want to know in advance. I don’t want to be blindsided.”

“And I just told you, nobody is going to find out about this, because I know how to do my job. It’s dead already, and I’m making sure it stays that way. Haven’t heard a peep on her little social media since the meeting. What is with you?” He stares at me for a long time.

I can’t even look at him, just down at my glass. When I eventually lift my eyes, finally looking at my friend, he’s staring at me like I’m a stranger. His brows knit together, eyes going narrow. Something tells me I know where this is headed.

And I’m right.

“Oh. Oh, no.” He shakes his head, his expression turning to one of horror. “This isn’t happening right now.” He looks away, laughing, though it’s obviously a fake laugh.

“What?”

He points. “No, you broughtmehere. Don’t do this shit now.” He waves a finger at me. “Whatever this reaction is. You’re a horrible liar. No, you sit there and you say it. I want to hear it come out of your mouth.”

Fuck. Well, it was inevitable. He was going to find out, even though I wanted to initiate it. Maybe he reads me as good as I read him.

When I can’t find the right words, even though I search hard for them, he leans in.

“You’re fucking her? The chick that’s trying to form a union at the warehouse?”

“Could you keep your voice down?” It’s bad enough the waitress threw a curious look our way when she delivered a couple new beers.

He stares up at the ceiling, then back at me, clearly not hearing the question I just asked him. He repeats, even slower. “You are fucking. The woman. At the warehouse.” His voice rises through his sentences, until he’s practically shouting by the end. “This is not happening to me.” He falls back into his chair, looking at the ceiling.

“Hey, keep it down.” I slide a look toward the bar. A few other patrons have started to take notice, and they don’t bother hiding their curiosity. “Jesus.”

For what feels like an eternity, he glares at me, unblinking. I can see the wheels turning in his head, playing everything out, possibly imagining the different ways he could murder me and hide the body. He’s going to flip the fuck out.

Finally, he finds his voice again, while massaging his temples. “This is a nightmare.”

I hate to pile this on him, but I have to get it all out. It’s eating at me. “Want to hear something worse?”

“Of course, it gets worse?” Now, he’s just smiling, but it’s like a crazy person would smile. Like bring it on, dump it all out there.

“Depends on the point of view.”

“Oh, I bet it fucking does.”

I take a deep breath. “I like her. I like her a lot.”

“Fuckkkk me.” He draws out the f bomb, then buries his head in his hands, shoulders heaving as he tries to breathe. “You do know how to make it worse.” He’s laughing, like he’s slowly going insane.

“I do what I can.”

Finally, he just leans back, grinning his ass off, shaking his head. “What the hell am I going to do with you?”

I’m worried I might need to drop him by the psych ward for an evaluation. “Sorry?” I try with a shrug.

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