Perfect Chaos

Her sentiment is touching and expected, I guess. Gina’s aware of Lainey’s fast turnover of men, just as well as I am. “Are you worried my heart might get broken?”

She sniffs in dismissal. “All this talk of hearts. You don’t even fucking have one.” The door slams, shaking my office. And I smile, so happy I have my Gina back.TEN O’CLOCK COMES AND GOES. Eleven o’clock comes and goes. Twelve, one, two, and three o’clock come and go. No crow. Nothing. I’ve been holed up all day on calls, and there’s not been a peek from Sal. Nor Lainey, for that matter, but I’ve resisted emailing her. I don’t want to sound like I’m being pushy by asking her if she’s done the deed yet.

As I wrap up on a conference call with the company lawyer talking all things staff pensions, I drum my fingers on my desk wondering what to do. But the second I decide to call Lainey and gently press on the situation, I hear it. The crow. It’s as ear-splitting with a solid wooden door between us.

I bolt upright in my chair. I know what that sound signals, but what I haven’t thought about is what I’ll do if I hear it. What will I say? What will Sal say?

“Fuck.” Instinct takes over, and I dive downward, my intention to hide under my desk hindered when I crack my forehead on the edge of the wood. “C’mon!” I yell, clenching my head in my hands as the door opens. Being in a relationship is hazardous to my wellbeing in more ways than one.

“All right?” Sal asks, frowning at me as I rub at my thumping head.

“Fucking peachy,” I grumble, assessing his disposition. He looks normal. Totally and utterly normal. Cranky, but that’s normal lately, but now I know why. He doesn’t know yet? “You?” I ask cautiously.

He hums and wanders over to my filing cabinet. “Just need the Sony file.” He takes it down and moves toward the door.

Why didn’t he ask Lainey to get it? “Haven’t you got an assistant for that stuff?”

He grunts. “Needed to stretch my legs.”

Okay, he definitely doesn’t know, but something isn’t right. Did he have a weekend from hell with Moya and Mia? Or has Lainey told him, and he’s simply not talking to me? It can’t be. I’m certain above all things that Sal would have plenty to say and wouldn’t be able to hold back. I start an email to Lainey, making it short and sweet.* * *Re: Well?Have you told Sal?Tyler Christianson

Chief Executive Officer

Christianson Walker Ltd.* * *I sit back and wait impatiently for a reply, staring at my clock as the minutes tick by. Ten minutes later, I’m hobbling around my office, up and down, listening for a ping to announce a new email.

“How did it go?”

I jump and swing around, finding Gina’s head poked around the door. “It didn’t.” I limp back over to my desk and go to my sent items to make sure the email was delivered. It was. Ten minutes ago. What gives? “Is Lainey here?” I ask Gina, looking up at her.

“Yes. I saw her by the elevator on her way back from lunch.” The door closes and I sink into my chair, thinking. Call her. Just call her and ask. Scooping up my mobile, I dial Lainey and get up, starting with the uncomfortable pacing again. It rings twice before going to voicemail. She rejected my call? I stare at my phone disbelievingly, just as a text pops up.

You can’t call my mobile when I’m at work.

I scoff and bash out a reply.

Then answer my email.

Her reply is instant, and it’s also irritating.

Now’s not a good time.

A good time for what? To answer me, or to tell Sal? I can’t be sure so I reply, asking her for confirmation. And I don’t like her answer.

To tell Sal. He’s in a bad mood.

It dawns on me in that moment there will never be a good time. Lainey will use that as an excuse forever, since Sal’s always in a bad mood lately. It could be weeks before that improves, if it ever does. No. I’m not waiting. Besides, if he’s such a grumpy bastard, my little bombshell won’t make much difference.

Resolute, I head to Sal’s office, mentally preparing my speech as I go. I feel Gina’s eyes on me as I pass her desk. “Hey, Ty,” she calls, prompting me to look back.

She points to my feet. “You forget something?”

I look down and find I still only have one shoe on. On a roll of my eyes, I return my attention forward. It’ll take me too long to try and wrestle my swollen foot into my brogue. I need to get this over with. Just sit down and talk him through it. And remain calm. Above everything, remain calm, no matter how epic his hissy fit is.