Page 14 of The Worst Guy Ever
I march back around our bank of desks and along the corridor to Andrew’s office, throwing the door open without knocking.
“What thefuckis going on, Andrew?”
“Calm down, Hattie.”I will do no such thing.“He’s here now. Just let him get to know the account and use him where you can.”
“What are you not telling me? Who decided this?”
He tips his head back and pinches the bridge of his nose. “I told you, it was felt that the size of the account warranted an additional person to support the needs of the client.”
“Don’t feed me bullshit.Whosays that? Are Spirited not happy with my work? I’ll call Brent right now and ask.“ Brent is my counterpart on the client side, the marketing director who commissions all our work.
“Brent’s out. They’re bringing in someone new.”
“What?” I knew something was going on. That confirms it. What has he done? Has he been fired? Is this about to derail everything I’m working on?
“He’s taking paternity leave, and apparently the baby arrived early.”
“I didn’t even know he was having a baby.”Jesus, you think you know someone.I’ve been on weekly, sometimes daily, calls with Brent for a year and he never mentioned anything about it. Fair play to him though for trying to equal the playing field. You don’t get many men in this industry stepping up to share the parental load.
“Look, it wasn’t my decision, Hattie, but you’re doing a great job here, and everyone knows you’re still the big dog where Spirited is concerned.”
“They’d fucking better. I don’t like this one bit. You know I don’t share my toys.”
“Just give him the shit you don’t want to do and keep your head down. I’m sure Brent’s replacement will be in touch soon. Now skedaddle,” he shoos me away, “I’ve got things to be getting on with.”
Except there is nothing I don’t want to do. I love my job and, despite the occasional self-doubt spiral, I know I’m fantastic at it. And I like the control it gives me. I have built a great team who deliver excellent work, and the relationship with the client is better than ever. Or at least it was. Now I’ve got not one, but two new dickheads to put in their place.
Chapter 4
Hattie
Lawrencehasbeenfollowingme around like a bad smell since Monday. He tags along to my meetings and dials into my calls under the guise of‘getting up to speed on all things Spirited’.
Meanwhile, I seethe my way through the days annoyed at everyone who welcomes him with big smiles and open arms. They lap his schtick up, fawning as he regales them with stories of his previous work like the golden boy arsehole that he is. Nobody isthatgood. I’d do some digging if he left me alone for two seconds. I bet he’s got a rich dad in advertising who got him a foot in the door.
There’s still no word from Brent’s replacement, so all I can do is keep pushing things along and hope they don’t decide they hate our proposed vision for the new summer campaign.
The worst thing about Lawrence, and I do appreciate that in any other employee this would be seen as a good thing, is that he works damn hard. He’s in early, barely takes lunch, and stays late, which means I now need to work even harder to prove myself.
He’s the very reason I’m late for book club, rushing into Sunshine Coffee halfway through Kara speaking, throwing my coat over a table, and awkwardly weaving my way to the seat Megan has saved me up front.
Luke opened this place last year, and it’s my favourite place in town. Starting over after his wife sadly died, he moved here to open his own business, and it wasn’t long until he met Kara. A self-proclaimed romance addict, he soon invited her to start Sunshine Book Club, and it’s been a fixture in my social calendar ever since.
I love getting lost in a good book, though work is such a distraction that if it wasn’t for book club spurring me on, I’d probably never finish one.
The other great thing about book club is that Rob doesn’t come, so it’s a good chance for Megan, Kara, and I to catch up without him sucking all the air out of the room. I don’t dare admit I haven’t finished the book, instead I just nod along and agree with everything Kara says. I normally cram a few pages here and there through the work day but with Lawrence talkingnon-fucking-stopI’ve not had the chance. Even when I’m at home, he’s emailing me questions, requesting documentation and putting catch-up meetings in my diary. There’s no need, he’s practically attached at the hip, all I’ve done for three days is catch him up.
I should be grateful. Him monopolising my time has left none for fantasising about Rob, though that hasn’t stopped his desperate games. Instead of taking the hint and fucking off forever, he’s upped the ante by sending photos of himself. Unfortunately for me, every single one of them makes me want to ride him until the sun comes up.
I could say it’s just great lighting and strong angles, but that would be a lie. I don’t think you could take a bad photo of a man that attractive. It should be illegal to be that tall and broad, so chiselled and manly. It’s an unfair advantage but I refuse to give him the satisfaction of knowing how much he gets to me.
I have a better strategy. For every photo he sends me, he gets one back with zero fucks about how I look, my middle finger raised.
On Friday night he sends a photo of himself all dressed up, clearly heading out for a date. If he thinks I’ll be jealous, he’s completely deluded. I part my lips and let the tip of my finger rest against my tongue. I send it off, knowing exactly what it will do to him.
When he doesn’t reply, I send another, my lips wrapped tight around my finger.
Knob:Stop it dirty girl. I’m out
