Page 2 of Ethan
“Hey, Boss,” I say, trying my best to put on a happy voice.
“Sydney,” he says, his tone of voice brusk and impatient… as always. “Cancel whatever banal and pathetic plans you have for this evening. You’re officially back at work… as of five minutes ago.”
“But,” I stutter, “it’s my birthday.”
“I don’t give a shit if it’s the second coming of Jesus Christ and he’s specifically requested your presence. You get your ass down to the airport right now or don’t bother coming into work tomorrow. Capeesh?”
“Capeesh,” I groan, already standing up from my bed and cracking my back.
“That’s my girl,” he says, then hangs up the phone before I can get another word in.
I pick up the little cake. The flame from the candle fluttering slightly in the breeze coming from my open window.
The groans and sounds of skin slapping against each other continue to emit from the room next door.
Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath and make a wish.
I wish my boss wasn’t such a jerk.
I wish I could spend my birthday with my mom. Instead of going back to a thankless job that uses up all my energy and makes me feel like shit at the end of each and every day.
I wish I had a man to share my life with. Someone to support me. Someone to come home to each night and wrap my arms around. Someone who’d kiss me and make all my troubles float away.
Heck, he doesn’t even have to be good-looking - although, I wouldn’t complain if he was. As long as he loves me.
I mean, is that too much to ask?
2
Ethan
I chuckmy phone down on the seat next to me. Gunther's sycophantic voice still ringing in my ears.
I really need to fire him. His dad, now there was a man I could do business with. But ever since he retired, and his son took over the agency, I’ve been looking for a reason to get rid of him.
There’s just something about his I don’t like. The man’s a slimeball. Pure and simple. And I don’t need that kind of energy in my life.
“Hey, kiddo!” I call out to my son, but he has his earphones in and his eyes firmly glued to his phone. For all he cares, I’m on a different planet.
Leaning my head back against the seat, I look out the tiny, circular window at the runway.
Quality father-son time, right here. Sitting feet apart, but in our own little worlds.
The air hostess for my private jet appears from the cabin. A big, fake smile glued to her face.
Her hips swing from side to side as she walks towards me. “Anything I can get you, Mr. Lennox?”
“A replacement assistant?” I say, half-kidding.
"I can assist you in any way you want," she says, leaning forward and giving me a full view of her cleavage. "Just tell me what to do, and I'll do it."
"How about a glass of champagne?" I say, inwardly cringing at her outward display of desperation.
“My pleasure,” she smiles, leaning over me and picking up the empty bottle of water from the seat next to me.
Her breasts loom forward. Her arm rub against my chest.
I roll my eyes and wait for her to finish. To leave my personal space.
