Page 36 of The Backup Groom
Amber
Huck the Schmuck stopped by my cubicle at the end of the business day, as I was getting my purse to meet Stella for a mini-brainstorming session before my date with Radio Ryan.
Timing is everything, there’s no doubt about it.
Another fifteen seconds and I would have been Schmuck-free.
Please don’t ask me to do anything for you.
Huck the Schmuck had done it to me three times last week and twice the week before, assigning me some “urgent” tasks right when I was walking out the door. It was like he was purposely adding more things to my plate to get me to quit, things that weren’t even part of my job description as a media buyer.
Maybe he thought it was funny, or maybe he was being his usual cruel self, but I would have the last laugh after finding a suitable Ryan Scott to marry. We shall see if I could truly make that happen, though. I was having serious doubts.
Especially after that fiasco yesterday with Rye Bread Ryan. The man had three strikes against him as a potential husband before he even sat down at the table with me. The biggest strike was the fact that he was already married. Even if I overlooked that fact, which I never would, he smelled like yeast. He would have had five strikes against him if I included his poor sense of fashion and his dirty fingernails that were twice as long as mine. One thing was for sure, Mama’s yeast rolls would never conjure up the same image again.
Stella apologized profusely and said she wouldn’t do that again without talking to me first.
It was annoying, but not as annoying as the man standing in front of me.
Huck the Schmuck cleared his throat. “Drop this off at the Pacific Beach Recreation Center today. Someone will be there until eight.”
Unbelievable.
It wasn’t my job to run errands for him.
He always demanded, never asked.
Never a please, and certainly never a thank you.
I glanced at the large box he was carrying, along with a cardboard tube the agency used to carry promotional posters we designed. “Why me?”
Huck the Schmuck dumped them on the chair next to my desk. “Why not?” He gave me his trademark glare, daring me to protest.
“I was just leaving,” I said.
“Perfect,” he replied. “Stop by the recreation center on your way home.”
He knew I lived in the opposite direction.
In these situations, Stella told me to visualize myself ramming his head into my desk a few hundred times until it fell off and then snatching his over-gelled head and kicking it out the window. After that, I would order champagne and red velvet cake for the employees to celebrate his departure.
That was my first time trying it, and I had to admit that Stella’s visualization technique was wonderful therapy.
“Are you listening to me?” Schmuck said, yanking me out of my fantasy.
“It would be a pleasure to drop it off for you,” I said with no enthusiasm whatsoever.
I really didn’t have a choice, or he would have asked me if I valued my job and if I really wanted to work there.
If I were to ever respond, my answers would benoandno. As much as I wanted to tell him to shove it, I needed to hang on a little longer to make sure I got the inheritance. If it weren’t for losing the medical insurance, I probably would have already quit by now.
“Good,” he said, a triumphant look on his face even though he missed the sarcasm entirely.
He turned and walked away without another word.
Not even a thank you.
Not that I expected one.
