Page 52 of Mr. Big Shot

We’re inching closer to Christmas and the office has gotten, sigh, cheery. There are a variety of peppermint creamers in the break room refrigerator, and some cutesy office manager stuck a bucket of candy canes on my desk that I promptly swiped off into my trash can. Yesterday, “Santa” and a few “elves” strolled around our office for a morale boost, and, for some reason, we all just went with it? “Ha ha, Santa! You better have me on the nice list this year!” was said out loud by an adult with a fully formed frontal lobe. Also, I don’t know if we didn’t have much in the budget this year or if all the good Santas in Chicago were already booked, but this man was a geriatric bootleg Saint Nick at best. I could see the white elastic band holding up his beard, and when I sat on his lap and told him what I want for Christmas, he acted weird about it.

Kidding.

“Saw you flirting with Santa today,” I tell Scarlett.

We’re walking down to the gym together. Some days, Scarlett waits until she hears me locking up my office before she grabs her bag and meets me out in the hall, acting like it was a pure coincidence. Oh, you just wrapped up too? It’s cute that she pretends she wasn’t listening for my departure with her ear to the door.

“Funny,” she says, referring to my Santa comment.

“Lookin’ to become the next Mrs. Claus?”

“I’m sure I’m not adventurous enough in bed for Santa.”

I look like I’m weighing this possibility. “You think Santa’s doing some naughty stuff?”

“He has to be. With all those reindeer harnesses? And all that downtime in the summer?”

I have to pinch the bridge of my nose to keep from laughing, and even still, a chuckle slips out.

Dammit, Scarlett. Stop. Killing. Me. All. The. Time.

It gets worse though, because everyone knows that in life, a situation that feels impossible and dangerous can always, always get worse.

So far I’ve harbored my crush on Scarlett with steadfast determination, surreptitious glances, a fucking lot of—let’s call it self-care, and reproachful reminders that I cannot under any circumstances sleep with Anders Elwood’s youngest child if I want to make senior partner at this law firm sooner rather than later. One night with Scarlett and I could kiss my hope of a promotion goodbye forever. I’d be lucky if he let it go at that.

But it’s one thing to hypothetically turn Scarlett down, quite another to really do it.

Later that night, I’m about to take her home after our workout. It’s only the second time I’ve driven her, and she’s trying to get out of it even though there’s a foot of snow on the ground and more piling up every second. She’s positioned herself between me and the passenger door. I’m about to just push her in.

“I thought we learned our lesson,” she argues. “My apartment’s only two seconds away.”

“Scarlett. In.”

She maintains eye contact with me as she slides into the passenger seat, and I close the door on her before she can keep arguing. Ah wait, she’s still arguing behind the glass. Oh well, I tried.

“I’m picking the music this time.”

“Change the channel and you die.”

She pushes those buttons with willful abandon. For all I know, she’s reprogramming my radio stations.

Acoustic coffee shop music pours through my speakers and castrates my balls right off. She might as well put a beanie on my head and give me a tattoo of a crow taking flight on my inner forearm.

“Satisfied?”

She smiles. “Yes. This will help you keep your cool while I talk to you about something important.”

I sigh like I’m exasperated by the sheer idea of her having anything to tell me. She knows to just ignore me and get on with it.

“So listen, I’ve been thinking about something you can do to help me with this situation with Jasper that doesn’t involve murder, and you aren’t allowed to outright shut me down.” She holds her hand out like she’s scared I’m about to cut her off already. “You have to think on it first…swear you will.”

“No.”

She crosses her arms and turns toward the window. “Okay fine.”

It takes me all of one second to cave to her reverse psychology.

“I swear.”

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