Page 47 of One Night in Vegas

There was a little extra pep in my step as I strolled down the hall. This was a moment I had fantasized about for a long time. I wanted to walk in and tell Harold to kiss my ass. He had taken advantage of me for the last time. When I took the job, I was supposed to be his assistant. Then it ended up I was everyone’s assistant. I was doing three times the work for the same amount of pay.

“Where have you been?” Harold barked from his office like a rabid dog on a leash. He was either too lazy or too afraid to get his happy ass up and confront me. But I wanted to see his face when I told him to kiss my ass. I left the bag on my desk to use in a minute to carry out all my personal things.

“I’ve been at home, Harold,” I said with a smile. “That’s where I’ll be returning just as soon as I’m finished cleaning out my desk.”

He frowned. “You don’t look sick.”

“I’m not sick. I’m perfectly healthy. I was healthy on Monday as well. I called in sick because I had a job interview. Turns out, I got the job, so you and your merry band of professors can get your own coffee. I’m no longer going to be doing the job of ten for the price of one. Good luck finding someone who will.”

“Excuse me?” he growled.

“Let me be clearer,” I said. “I quit.”

“No, you don’t.”

I laughed. “But I do. I’ll get my things. I’ll be cashing out my sick days on my last check as well.”

He snorted. “You can’t just quit.”

“I can. I am. It’s been fun, Harold. And in case you didn’t realize, that was sarcasm. I would suggest you hire several assistants for this department. One person should not have to do the work I was doing. Good luck to you.”

His mouth was hanging open when I walked back to my desk. I tossed my stuff into my bag. Some, I chose to leave because I just wanted to make a clean break. Harold came out just as I was walking out.

“Macy!”

I kept walking.

“Ms. Stiles!”

With every step I took, it felt like I was shedding pounds. I had no misguided assumptions the job I was accepting as Jon’s assistant was going to last long. It didn’t have to, but if he wanted to fire me, I was going to make him do it. I wasn’t walking away without a severance package.

He couldn’t very well fire me because he didn’t like the fact I’d ditched him in a hotel room eight years ago. He was stuck with me, and I planned on making his life hell for as long as I could while getting paid a very healthy wage to do it.

I would get a new job I loved eventually. For now, this was far more important. Before going straight home, I went to a secondhand store Trisha and I loved to frequent. We often found some pretty good deals on quality stuff. I needed to dress to kill next week. I was already thinking short skirts and some blouses that highlighted my breasts. I knew he had a particular fondness for my tits. I planned on capitalizing on that fact.

My credit card was getting a workout. I left the store with three new outfits I was able to mix and match to keep things fresh. It was all part of a very devious plan. I knew Trisha had a lot of questions. I had managed to send her a quick text letting her know what was going on. It was a little humiliating to admit what he had done to me. The only saving grace was knowing I had a plan to get back at him.

I spent the day kicking around the house and doing some organizing in my room. I cleaned out my closet, making a pile for the thrift store. This felt like a whole new page. I was getting the chance to start fresh.

Trisha walked in the door just after five. “Tell me everything!” she squealed.

“I don’t think you’re going to like what I have to say,” I said.

“Uh oh, what happened?”

“He dumped me,” I said.

“The last text I got from you, you were running out to a hotel with the guy,” she said.

“We did. We went to a hotel. We did what we did last time.”

“Sex,” she said, grinning.

“Yep. Just as good as last time. Great sex. Once again, I think I had too much wine. I passed out with him holding me. I woke up to an empty bed and an emptier hotel room. There wasn’t a note or a text. Nothing.”

“Maybe he had to work,” she said.

“No. This was him trying to get back at me for what I did to him in Vegas. The only difference is I didn’t set out to do that to him. He purposely asked me to dinner, charmed me, and dragged me to a hotel so he could sneak out on me. What he did was wrong. Rude. Unconscionable. He didn’t have to do that. Hechoseto do it.”

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