Page 22 of Handling the CEO

As I turn towards the pair, I confirm, “I am right behind you, as I technically promised not to cause a scene—but I didn’t hear you promise anything—you got dibs.” From the very real smile on her face, I know I hit the bullseye. I reckon I dug myself out at least halfway from the hole I got in with DJ after last Saturday’s dumb dash I did.

With me looming behind her with what I hope is a murderous glare, my little spitfire and I make our way to our rivals for a long overdue chat.

DJ

Walkingtowardsmyexagain after not seeing him for about six months was surprisingly anticlimactic. I had no feelings about him at all anymore, just perhaps slight queasiness at noticing his smug face as he was blabbering away with some business people with Naomi Campbell’s evil lookalike next to him. Richard Simmons, the fucking snake!

I do, however, have a feeling of safe-ness knowing Jon watches my back, as a great defender ready to help, but letting me lead. I am woman enough to admit the moment he said I got dibs it made me all giddy. Combined with seeing him with his sister earlier had all my mushy feelings flare up, making me even more resolute in my decision to clear the air with him. Even though I am still a bit apprehensive about starting something with someone I worked with again, there is this bond between us I needed to accept.

I stop straight between my ex-husband and his audience. Jon’s presence makes the crowd scatter, with only the four of us facing off.

“Richard, I heard you were in town… how is that software going? Easy build-up, is it? Ready to launch?” I stomp on the pressure point. Easy, my ass. Without my knowledge, he would scramble to even know where to begin.

I can see him almost frothing at the mouth, his dark eyes enraged, his arms crossed.

“It’s going great,” he says punctuating ‘great’ as if I would ever believe a word he said. “I understand you now work for him.” He nods his head at the man behind me, but instead of stopping there, he continues being himself, “I hear he sticks his dick in everything with a skirt, so you may want to watch yourself.”

I can feel Jon getting ready to advance, and sense him clenching his fists, but I shake my head slightly. My ex-husband needs to find some better comebacks if he thinks some sex shaming would trigger me.

“That’s cute and not at all childish, but I can take care of myself. And I see you are working... Oh, that was it, you are working! Good for you!”

Before Richard makes a bigger fool of himself, the woman next to him barges in, her sweet, sickly tone grating my eardrums.

“Ah Richard, you didn’t say your ex-wife enjoys heckling people. Perhaps she needs to get back behind her computer and pretend to code some more. Or maybe she shouldn’t, but then ICE will send you back to the third world country you came from. You and your leeching family, fresh off a Cuban boat.”

I am taken aback by her commentary and even though I was supposed to not react, I growl at her.

“You did not just insult my family, you bitch.” Immediately, my patience evaporates. I almost launch myself at her, only to be caught by a large warm arm around my middle, holding me in place.

“Hey there, Cobra Kai, it’s what she wants you to lose your temper and strike first. Look around us, DJ, the press is watching,” Jon speaks next to my ear. “Miranda, I see you haven’t learned any manners, still a conniving witch who can only insult people who are better than you.”

Before the Lexington shrew can answer, it’s my former spouse who is continuing the show.

“What the fuck!” he yells. “He calls you DJ? Are you serious now?” He moves towards Jon, who tries to pull me behind him again, but I don’t let him. I can—and will enjoy— kneeing my ex in the balls if I must.

“What’s your problem, Rich? You think you own half my name also? Stealing half my money and trying to slander me was not enough?”

“It’s not my fault you got caught with the police car on your doorstep. You threatened me! I had to tell the people at Hove who they had in their team! Also, I most certainly helped you code ‘Zephyr’!”

“How about you shut up before you cause a bigger scene, Simmons?” the man next to me intervenes. “I suspect DJ and myself have quite a lot of dirty laundry we could air out, if you both want. But I recommend you settle the fuck down and let the grown-ups speak,” Jon curtly snarls, looking at both of our enemies.

I can see something sinister flashing on Miranda’s face like she just caught onto something, and she can’t wait to use it. She takes a sip out of her champagne glass as she smiles disturbingly, matching a Bond villain, minus the white cat.

Jon either misses her smirk or wants to prove his point. Approaching the subject we originally came here for, slightly glazing over the ‘not making a scene’ agreement, but I can’t say I blame him, he goes for it.

“I overheard what you told Tae off about her eating dessert. I also saw her running in the bathroom crying—is that how you treat your daughter? There is nothing wrong with her weight, you harpy.”

“Ah, my dear former stepson, you have NO business telling me how to raise my daughter. However, I see you found yourself a little Latina toy to defend from the big bad wolves. You always liked them lively. But is she aware of all the parties? Or…” she lowers her voice and approaches me directly, “the drugs?”

I don’t have to turn to him to know Jon is either frozen or steaming mad, and I only take a moment to tilt my head at her. This hoe thinks I can be fooled that easily, especially after they clearly sent those fake news to the Observer.

“Oh, dear Mir Mir,” I start in a condescending tone, “someone can’t get to the grapes I see. Unsure if green is really your color.” I grin and move in front of Jon again. With a lick of my lips, I continue, “Do not worry your pretty head Mir, I know... a lot... about him.” Her grinding teeth tell me I hit my mark. She is going to run through her veneers at this rate.

“Fuck—you really are sleeping with him?” Richard stutters, waking up from the word hiatus he was in.

“Sleeping?” I add in a slightly serial killer-y tone, “Not sleeping as much. I just… like rewiring his flaps.”

Several things happen at once, as though we are in a slapstick comedy. My ex’s face reddens close to the shade of a ripe tomato. Miranda chokes on her champagne and it partially comes out of her nose. Jon pulls me out of the way, so Julia Li gets a ‘spit and bubbly’ special on her golden dress and squeaks loudly. All the while, several camera flashes go off.

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