Page 96 of The Worst Guy Ever
“Have you ever considered that maybe the problem is the environment, the company, not you?” he says, prising the bottle from my hand after I’ve downed another mouthful. “There’s nothing wrong with you, Hattie. I mean, I’m sure you’re a giant pain in the backside, but you’re smart and you’re talented. You know your shit and you take no shit. You’re brilliant, brave, beautiful, bold. You see what you want and you go after it. They’re lucky to have you. Anyone would be lucky to have you.”
I’m too messed up to hear his words as anything other than an invitation. Pushing him back against the sofa cushions, I climb into his lap and straddle him, but he grips my hips and lifts me off again.
“Come on, everyone else gets to use me. You can too.” I give him a playful poke in the side.
“I’m not using you.” His face crumples, and I stand up and take another swig. I don’t care if I’m drinking too fast, I want to forget this day ever happened.
“That’s literally what friends with benefits is. Using each other for sex. Isn’t that why you came here? Threw your toys out of the pram, told me you’d have to stay away, but as soon as your dick got twitchy you’ve come running back?”
Rob stands too, his big hands gripping my shoulders, holding me steady at arm’s length. He bends to meet my glare, but his eyes are full of something far from anger. “Hattie, listen to me carefully and get this in your fucking head. Idon’tuse you. I sleep with you because I want you, because I need you. Because I…”
He trails off and presses his eyes shut. A shiver rattles up my spine, time stretching in the space between us. Was he really going to say what I think he was going to say? My throat burns and the tears well up again.
“This isn’t friends with benefits for you, is it?”
“That’s what I’ve been telling you,” he says, so quiet I barely hear him. But his eyes say it too, until he steps back, dragging his hand over his face. “It hasn’t been for a long time. You just don’t believe me.”
Why can’t I believe him? Why can’t I be someone who plays nice and gets along with others? Why do I have to make everything so bloody difficult all the time? I’m trying so hard to keep it all together and no matter what I do, it’s never good enough.I’llnever be good enough. Rage, panic, and fear slosh together inside me. I take another long drink, shove the bottle into his hand, and walk away.
“Where are you going?” he asks.
“I need my phone,” I say, heading down the hallway towards my bedroom.
“Why?”
“I need to email my boss.”
“Oh no, no, Hattie. We don’t drink and email. That’s like rule number one of having a job.” He chases after me, but all I can do is laugh.
“I don’t give a fuck.” I hit compose and start typing, narrating as I go. “This. is. bullshit. You. are. bullshit. This. whole. company. is. bullshit. Lawrence. can. eat. shit. and. die.”
Rob dives across the bed, reaching for my hand. “Hattie, no. Don’t do this.”
“Too late,” I cackle. I throw my phone down on my bedside table and pull my t-shirt up over my head. “Now fuck me or fuck off.”
Chapter 39
Hattie
“SoI’mnotfired?”
Over the weekend, Andrew put an urgent meeting in my diary first thing Monday morning, and even though I was already feeling sick about this mess with Rob, this pushed me over the line.
Of course, he didn’t fuck me. He made me dinner, forced me to drink two pints of water, put me to bed, and went home, taking the whisky with him. I don’t think I’ve ever cried over a man, but that night I lost it, and spent most of the weekend under those covers crying and wanking on repeat. A pathetic parody of a woman who has her shit together.
Crawling out of bed this morning, I forced myself to put on an appropriately professional looking outfit; a flowy cream blouse tucked neatly into a black pencil skirt, paired with a matching blazer. I rarely dress like a corporate twat for work, but I made an effort today, even if it was only to walk in and get sacked.
“No, Hattie. The company is restructuring, which has unfortunately rendered your position redundant,” he repeats himself, clearly reading from a script HR has sent over.
“So Iamfired?”
Andrew sighs. “Please don’t make me read it again.”
“I just don’t understand. I said this whole company was bullshit and that Lawrence should eat shit and die. I’ve barely slept since you scheduled this meeting. How am I not fired?”
“You’re being made redundant, Hattie. The company is restructuring, which has unfortunately rendered your position redundant,” he repeats. “Listen, you’ll get three months’ pay, and in addition to that I requested HR give you three months’ gardening leave effective immediately. Given your length of service and previously strong record, they agreed.”
I’m being fired, but gently, and with a golden fuck off. A decade of hard work, dedication, and loyalty, and I’ve burned it all down with a fifteen word drunken email. I suspect it was cc’ing Bob that really did it.
