Page 2 of Fluke
I can’t help it. I giggle.
“I’m kidding,” she says, although I’m not sure she is. That’s okay because I’m not sure I am either.
A trip to Savannah sounds like the perfect antidote to the mess at work. But taking trips to avoid my problems is almost as unhealthy as working with Chuck “the Schmuck” Collins.
My jaw clenches at his name rolling around in my head.
I shouldn’t let him get to me. I’m a grown-ass woman who should be able to bite her tongue and let douchebags be douchey. But I was born lacking a filter to prohibit myself from snapping back at assholes.
It’s not one of my finer qualities and certainly doesn’t do me any favors. If I wanted to play the blame game, I could credit it to having two uber successful, brilliant parents who embodied the definition of hubris. The only way to survive surgeons as parents when you grow up wanting nothing to do with the medical field is to learn to stand up for yourself. It took me a long time to learn that.
Ten years later, I’d say I’ve mastered it—maybe a little too well.
“Now that you’re calm-er,” Kerissa says, “tell me what happened today.”
Ugh. I take a deep breath. “My boss, Bridgit, wants to expand Bloom Match again. Originally, it was a small online matchmaking service. Then they got the idea to make it a regional thing where we blind-match people from this area, set up the dates, host mixers—all that stuff.”
“Right.”
“Business has been going well—exploding, even. Bridgit asked everyone a couple of months ago to brainstorm ways to take the company further. We all proposed our ideas, and it’s come down to me and Chuck the Fuck.”
“We hate him.”
“We do.” I nod, my blood pressure rising. “I dislike him on a good day. Even if I got up on time, had the perfect latte, and a great hair day, I’d still hate Chuck. If I had to nominate someone for the Hunger Games, it would be him. I wouldn’t even have to think about it.”
She snorts.
“I hit the alarm three times this morning, Muggers screwed up my latte, and my hair looks like this.” I point at my head. “I woke up emotional, which makes me ragey itself because emotions are inconvenient and make me feel weak.”
Kerissa rubs a hand against her forehead. “This does not bode well for Chuck.”
My teeth clench as I remember the smarmy look the jerk gave me.
“So we’re going back and forth about our ideas, right? The whole office is in the conference room listening to us weigh the pros and cons of our proposals. I wrap up my little impromptu presentation—which I nailed, by the way. He must’ve felt threatened or something because he leaned back in his chair, his arms behind his head like he’s proudly displaying his sweat stains in his armpits, and says”—I pause to channel my inner Chuck voice— “‘I’d like to point out that we’re taking relationship advice from a woman who has no verifiable experience with them.’”
The top of my head might blow up.
“He did not,” Kerissa says, eyes wide.
“Everyone was staring at me. I had flashbacks from high school when everyone found out about my mom’s chandelier debacle. I just opened my mouth and spewed … I don’t even know what I said, Kerissa.I was so pissed off. Something about being touched he pays so much attention to my private life but that I had been married before.” I stop to drag in a hasty breath. “Then, because I’m petty and I know from office gossip that he and his wife are having problems, I said that at least I knew when to walk away, unlike others who live a loveless life in misery.”
Her jaw drops.
“Not my proudest moment,” I say, shifting in my seat.
“Well, silver lining—at least you put it in past tense. You could’ve said youaremarried. That would’ve been way more awkward.”
I stare at her.
“What? I’m trying to help here,” she says.
“What would’ve helped is if you’d gone to work with me and clamped a hand over my mouth. Because everyone started jabbering about how they didn’t know that about me. I stood there with red freaking cheeks, constructing a fake marriage that we ended after a couple of years when we realized it wasn’t right for us.Oh—he’s still smitten with me, too, because why not? If you’re creating an ex-husband, you might as well make him worth the fake marriage, right?”
Kerissa chuckles as I groan.
It’s fine. Everything is going to be fine.
Hannah, our server, slides up to the table. A wad of pink gum snaps between her teeth.
