“And the dog,” I cry. “The poor fucking dog.”
“What’s wrong with the dog?”
“
They have a fucking bucket thing tied to its head.”
“What for?”
“To torture it . . . why else?”
His face falls, and he stares at me. “What?”
“I’m not even joking . . . I got out to the car and considered going back in on a mercy mission and stealing the poor bastard to save it. He was eating peas, Jameson. Fucking peas, I tell you.”
Jameson tips his head back and laughs hard.
I put my head into my hands. “I’m sorry, Woofy.”
“His name is Woofy?”
I nod sadly.
He howls with laughter as he really loses control. “What did you do?”
I exhale heavily. “I did what any self-respecting man does when his life is in danger.”
“What’s that?”
“I got the fuck out of there.”
“You drove home with that ankle?” he asks in surprise.
“Sped the entire way.”
Jameson laughs hard.
“No more MILFs for me.” I hold my hands in the air. “I’m done.” I turn to my computer. “In fact, I don’t even think I want kids now. I’m scarred for life.”
A melancholy comes over me. “You know, I knew she was a widow and had it tough, but I never imagined it was this bad.”
Jameson watches me. “She was probably thinking of you when she ended it.”
“Yeah, I guess.” I sigh. “Anyway, in another life she’s the perfect woman. It’s her circumstances that have fucked it.”
It’s ten o’clock on Thursday morning, and someone knocks on my office door.
“Come in.”
Sammia walks in, and I smile. Sammia is my brother’s PA and the sunshine of our office. She works out at reception and keeps us all in order. “Tris, your intern interviews are here.”
I keep typing. “Okay, what number did we narrow it down to?”
“With all the testing and the two interviews they have already done down on level forty, there are three final candidates.”
“Yes, okay, which one do you like?” I ask.
“I like Rebecca,” she says. “I think she has what it takes.”