My last boyfriend, Chad—a jerk’s name if ever there was one—kind of did a number on me. Between his near-constant cheating and the way he would always find something wrong in anything I did, it’s been a bit difficult for me to find a measure of confidence in myself.
That’s why they do it.
That’s why men treat women like crap—it’s probably why women treat men like crap, too. It’s just a way to make the other person feel like less so that you can feel like more.
Even knowing this, knowing that Chad was just a coward, it doesn’t change anything. The damage is done, and I don’t even know where to start with finding a guy to get to know, to start dating. I’ve all but given up on finding anything resembling real love, but at this point, I’d be satisfied with a reasonable knockoff.
“Tyler!” that grating voice calls behind me.
“Mr. Kidman,” I say, turning around, “I’m really not in the mood.”
“Well, I think we both know that I am,” he says, and licks his lips.
It’s not an attractive gesture.
“But listen, I did want to tell you that you’ve been doing great work around here, and if you’d like to knock off early one of these days, I’d be happy to approve it.”
“What’s the catch?” I ask.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean that you’re a pathetic letch and you’d never say something like that unless there was some disturbing euphemism to accompany it.”
That’s what I want to say.
What I really say is, “You’d just approve it? No special favors or anything?”
“Not unless you’d like to show your gratitude by coming back to my office, and—you know what? I’m not really in the mood for this today, either,” he says. “My wife’s been on my case all week, asking me when I’m going to retire, and I don’t have anything to tell her. Anyway,” he breathes, “just thought I’d let you know that. Oh,” he says, “and if you see your friend Annabeth around, would you tell her that I know she’s been skipping out and her ass is about an inch from the chopping block.”
“I’ll let her know,” I say, smiling.
I’m not thrilled with what he said about Annabeth, but that was the closest thing to a mutually respectful conversation I’ve had with the man.
“One more thing…”
My joy may have been premature.
“I’ve been talking with the partners, and we think there might be a future for you here. I don’t know if you’ve received any other offers, but I do hope that you’ll consider staying on. We’ve really appreciated all the hard work you’ve been putting in.”
This is too good to be true, I’m sure, but my day just got a whole lot better.
“Thank you, sir,” I tell him. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
“You know there’s always a position open under me,” he says. “Huh. Look at that, I guess I am in the mood. Anyway,” he laughs, “keep up the good work.”
All right, he kind of marred it at the end there, but all in all, I’d say it was a pretty uplifting exchange.
Rackham Morris, one of the partners, passes me in the hall, and right now, I’m not even bothered by the fact that he completely ignores my existence. Nothing is going to get me down today.
“Tyler!”
Why do I always tell myself that nothing is going to get me down? I know better than to jinx it like that.
“Yes?” I ask, turning to face Atkinson.
“Yeah,” he says, “I’m going to need your help with a few projects. Are you busy?”
Come to think of it, I think I see a way out of this.