What's amazing about Vegas is that if a girl walks down the street in tears, everyone assumes that she lost a bundle gambling. Everyone offers her a few more chips, maybe dinner, a drink, a place to stay, a platitude about how it's just money, tomorrow is another day, everything is going to be okay, etc. until they realize they aren't helping and they fade out of the picture, their face blurring as the next face comes into focus but she just keeps walking and walking and thanks her Gods for kitten heels and empty credit cards and wonders if she should have a weapon so far from the busier areas because the US is different and riskier somehow and then finally he takes his sweet time showing up, telling her he didn't think she'd get that far. She reminds him that she's good at running and he accepts that because it's true.
Then he tells her to get in the car and they'll go home but when she looks inside the car she sees the devil and she doesn't want to go with him anywhere. He never shows himself to anyone else, just her and it isn't fair.
Wednesday, 27 August 2014
Hard to believe at one time he was one of the youngest CFOs on Bay Street.
Bridget.
He is sitting across the table tracing a steady groove into his coffee cup with his thumb. He's not looking at me. It's a dry cool morning and he is in a long sleeved white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up. Black pants. Hair perfectly combed but still wet. Close shave. Top two buttons undone so I can just barely see the first letter of the tattoo over his heart.
Yes?
I sit back in my chair, cup clutched against my breastbone with both hands, one thumb looped through the handle, pretty grey dress into service again because I'm still losing weight and it's a perfect fit when I do with the matching jacket (to cover my own tattoos). No shoes. I wait for the lecture. I didn't do my chignon. I didn't bring the stupid shoes (I walk too much here so kitten heels only) and my hair is still wet because breakfast arrived and I was starving.
He takes a sip and still doesn't look at me.
Why do you come here?
I believe the term is 'at gunpoint'.
I didn't hold a gun to your head.
The day is young.
This makes it harder.
And if I don't come with you my life is so much easier.
Are you afraid of me?
Yes.
If you were not, would things be different?
No.
Tell me why.
I don't want to do this today.
You're so hot and cold with me.
I'm like this with everyone. Don't think you're special.
Not what I mean.
What do you mean?
You're...incredibly loving and obedient and then you just shut down.
I scowl and look out over the strip. It's tacky and filthy. Nothing ever changes here except the names on the buildings, the names on the billboards. The tourists, the prostitutes, the dealers, the mob. It's all the same. The servers all look like they sold their souls so long ago their earthly forms have all but expired, the neon glitz burning a hole right through their flesh, the promises of the next hand crippling everyone into servitude. And bachelorette parties everywhere as if Vegas is the bottom and the only way now is up.
I never had a bachelorette party. I wouldn't know.
What should I do differently then?
Keep to the rules.
Who are the rules for again?
He has almost rubbed the coating off his cup and he grimaces like he's in pain and then checks his expression. Come. We have a busy day. We'll get coffee again en route.
En route to where?
Funding meeting at ten.
I don't need to be there.
Yes, you do. You're my right hand man. You call the shots. You tell me if we're up or down. You read them better than even I can.
That's bullshit and you know it.
Go finish getting ready. We can fight in the car.
He is sitting across the table tracing a steady groove into his coffee cup with his thumb. He's not looking at me. It's a dry cool morning and he is in a long sleeved white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up. Black pants. Hair perfectly combed but still wet. Close shave. Top two buttons undone so I can just barely see the first letter of the tattoo over his heart.
Yes?
I sit back in my chair, cup clutched against my breastbone with both hands, one thumb looped through the handle, pretty grey dress into service again because I'm still losing weight and it's a perfect fit when I do with the matching jacket (to cover my own tattoos). No shoes. I wait for the lecture. I didn't do my chignon. I didn't bring the stupid shoes (I walk too much here so kitten heels only) and my hair is still wet because breakfast arrived and I was starving.
He takes a sip and still doesn't look at me.
Why do you come here?
I believe the term is 'at gunpoint'.
I didn't hold a gun to your head.
The day is young.
This makes it harder.
And if I don't come with you my life is so much easier.
Are you afraid of me?
Yes.
If you were not, would things be different?
No.
Tell me why.
I don't want to do this today.
You're so hot and cold with me.
I'm like this with everyone. Don't think you're special.
Not what I mean.
What do you mean?
You're...incredibly loving and obedient and then you just shut down.
I scowl and look out over the strip. It's tacky and filthy. Nothing ever changes here except the names on the buildings, the names on the billboards. The tourists, the prostitutes, the dealers, the mob. It's all the same. The servers all look like they sold their souls so long ago their earthly forms have all but expired, the neon glitz burning a hole right through their flesh, the promises of the next hand crippling everyone into servitude. And bachelorette parties everywhere as if Vegas is the bottom and the only way now is up.
I never had a bachelorette party. I wouldn't know.
What should I do differently then?
Keep to the rules.
Who are the rules for again?
He has almost rubbed the coating off his cup and he grimaces like he's in pain and then checks his expression. Come. We have a busy day. We'll get coffee again en route.
En route to where?
Funding meeting at ten.
I don't need to be there.
Yes, you do. You're my right hand man. You call the shots. You tell me if we're up or down. You read them better than even I can.
That's bullshit and you know it.
Go finish getting ready. We can fight in the car.
Tuesday, 26 August 2014
Judge, jury, executioner (on my way to Vegas but not for fun).
They've even got a special name for us when we work on the show. Maybe you can guess it, Bridgie. Part of the word 'carnival' is in the name.
Lowlives. Caleb snorts to himself and opens another beer.
I frown at Caleb. I think I know what that means and it isn't nice. Lochlan touches my elbow. Think hard, Bridgie.
I am. So hard my eleven-year-old mind is ready to burst. Ummmm...carnivores?
No less than three of them spit mouthfuls of beer into the bonfire. Christian rolls onto his side. That's the best answer I've ever heard, Bridget. He says.
I'm not sure if he's making fun of me or not. I look at Lochlan, waiting for the correct answer.
Carnies, Bridgie. Want to come be a carny with me?
Yes, I do.
Too bad you're too young, Caleb kills the conversation completely. I frown because he's right.
***
He had the plane stocked with Pellegrino, blueberries and lime (for him) and coconut water (for me). A glass was poured for me and I took a huge gulp and thought he had finally succeeded in poisoning me without bothering to make it taste good.
My face said it all.
What's the matter? I thought you loved the stuff.
I don't even know what this is! Oh, it's plain.
What do you mean?
I only like the Del Monte pineapple kind.
I wasn't aware there were differences.
Try it.
He takes a sip and makes a face. I'll make a note of it.
I bet you will.
Pardon?
Nothing.
***
What is that?
My lucky bracelet.
And where did you get it?
Loch made it for me. I beam with twenty-one-year-old pride.
Caleb frowns. Where did he make it?
In the last campfire on the last show. (with a hammer and a piece of old copper wire, he engaged in a little portable blacksmithing, is what he did.)
I see. It's not something that you wear to a place like this, Bridget.
My personal jewelry isn't up for debate, Cale.
Your attitude is. I can take you to Cartier after lunch. We'll get you a proper one.
So I'm not good enough for Vegas suddenly? I thought it was the other way around.
He grabs my elbow and squeezes it so hard my knees go to liquid. No, I simply don't need any visual reminders that I brought a lowlife to such a high end spot.
I yank my arm out of his hand. Should have brought someone else then.
I don't want anyone else.
Then look at it because I'm not taking it off.
(In the end he took it off me, pinning me down and making sure I couldn't breathe until I stopped fighting. Business as usual. I never got it back. Maybe I'll ask about it today. Maybe when he's pinning me down. Full circle and all that.)
Lowlives. Caleb snorts to himself and opens another beer.
I frown at Caleb. I think I know what that means and it isn't nice. Lochlan touches my elbow. Think hard, Bridgie.
I am. So hard my eleven-year-old mind is ready to burst. Ummmm...carnivores?
No less than three of them spit mouthfuls of beer into the bonfire. Christian rolls onto his side. That's the best answer I've ever heard, Bridget. He says.
I'm not sure if he's making fun of me or not. I look at Lochlan, waiting for the correct answer.
Carnies, Bridgie. Want to come be a carny with me?
Yes, I do.
Too bad you're too young, Caleb kills the conversation completely. I frown because he's right.
***
He had the plane stocked with Pellegrino, blueberries and lime (for him) and coconut water (for me). A glass was poured for me and I took a huge gulp and thought he had finally succeeded in poisoning me without bothering to make it taste good.
My face said it all.
What's the matter? I thought you loved the stuff.
I don't even know what this is! Oh, it's plain.
What do you mean?
I only like the Del Monte pineapple kind.
I wasn't aware there were differences.
Try it.
He takes a sip and makes a face. I'll make a note of it.
I bet you will.
Pardon?
Nothing.
***
What is that?
My lucky bracelet.
And where did you get it?
Loch made it for me. I beam with twenty-one-year-old pride.
Caleb frowns. Where did he make it?
In the last campfire on the last show. (with a hammer and a piece of old copper wire, he engaged in a little portable blacksmithing, is what he did.)
I see. It's not something that you wear to a place like this, Bridget.
My personal jewelry isn't up for debate, Cale.
Your attitude is. I can take you to Cartier after lunch. We'll get you a proper one.
So I'm not good enough for Vegas suddenly? I thought it was the other way around.
He grabs my elbow and squeezes it so hard my knees go to liquid. No, I simply don't need any visual reminders that I brought a lowlife to such a high end spot.
I yank my arm out of his hand. Should have brought someone else then.
I don't want anyone else.
Then look at it because I'm not taking it off.
(In the end he took it off me, pinning me down and making sure I couldn't breathe until I stopped fighting. Business as usual. I never got it back. Maybe I'll ask about it today. Maybe when he's pinning me down. Full circle and all that.)
Sunday, 24 August 2014
Softly, now.
Ben's not having a good morning. I left him in bed with the tangled sheets and the curtains drawn tight, kissing his cheek firmly, whispering that I would be home right after church and we would go for a walk on the beach and make really fancy coffee in the good cups.
He squeezed my head very hard and nodded and drifted off again. A lot of things have forced him out of his comfort zone lately. Workwise and here at home as personalities clash and he forces back out in front. He would rather disappear most of the time and let his work speak. I think he learned that from Cole.
But people go through stages and God doesn't make anyone bland. Emotions are the roller coasters of the mind, the heart beats and waves and pumps are the life force and everything runs along barely regulated or patterned, instead forging ahead in a haphazd lope across one's life, intersecting with others, adopting their rhythms and fears. Absorbing their feelings whether they want to or not.
Life is not easy.
And so when I came home I pulled my church dress over my head, trading it for a soft vintage Annihilator t-shirt and pink underwear and I crawled back into bed beside him and when my stomach growled he opened his eyes and said,
My little noise monster came back.
I came back. For you.
He burst out laughing. My lines were from House of Flying Daggers. I answered him in Mandarin, just like in the film. Impulsive to a fault.
I love you, Bridget. You make me laugh.
Good, then please take me to breakfast?
I have to get up?
I want one of your fancy breakfasts.
This is my day off to be home all day and not have to go out.
Well....tough. Hash browns! Sourdough toast! Baaaaaaaaacon.
He rolls up on one elbow and dials a number. After a minute he gives his name and asks for someone. Then he asks if he can have two meals delivered and he repeats our address and gives the guest code for the gate.
Twenty minutes later he goes downstairs in his pajama pants and comes back up with two waxed boxes and two coffees. Breakfast picnics in bed are better than pizza in bed. I have a plastic fork in my hand, egg yolk in my belly button and bacon in my hair.
He dials once again and tells Loch to come up for leftovers. I hit him with my pillow and he pins me there until Loch walks in, already laughing.
Oh, Jesus. What a mess.
Mm-hmm. She's delicious.
Anything wrapped in bacon is delicious.
And she speaks Chinese!
That a feature or a bug?
Oh, I don't know, Brother. I guess we'll have to wait and see.
He squeezed my head very hard and nodded and drifted off again. A lot of things have forced him out of his comfort zone lately. Workwise and here at home as personalities clash and he forces back out in front. He would rather disappear most of the time and let his work speak. I think he learned that from Cole.
But people go through stages and God doesn't make anyone bland. Emotions are the roller coasters of the mind, the heart beats and waves and pumps are the life force and everything runs along barely regulated or patterned, instead forging ahead in a haphazd lope across one's life, intersecting with others, adopting their rhythms and fears. Absorbing their feelings whether they want to or not.
Life is not easy.
And so when I came home I pulled my church dress over my head, trading it for a soft vintage Annihilator t-shirt and pink underwear and I crawled back into bed beside him and when my stomach growled he opened his eyes and said,
My little noise monster came back.
I came back. For you.
He burst out laughing. My lines were from House of Flying Daggers. I answered him in Mandarin, just like in the film. Impulsive to a fault.
I love you, Bridget. You make me laugh.
Good, then please take me to breakfast?
I have to get up?
I want one of your fancy breakfasts.
This is my day off to be home all day and not have to go out.
Well....tough. Hash browns! Sourdough toast! Baaaaaaaaacon.
He rolls up on one elbow and dials a number. After a minute he gives his name and asks for someone. Then he asks if he can have two meals delivered and he repeats our address and gives the guest code for the gate.
Twenty minutes later he goes downstairs in his pajama pants and comes back up with two waxed boxes and two coffees. Breakfast picnics in bed are better than pizza in bed. I have a plastic fork in my hand, egg yolk in my belly button and bacon in my hair.
He dials once again and tells Loch to come up for leftovers. I hit him with my pillow and he pins me there until Loch walks in, already laughing.
Oh, Jesus. What a mess.
Mm-hmm. She's delicious.
Anything wrapped in bacon is delicious.
And she speaks Chinese!
That a feature or a bug?
Oh, I don't know, Brother. I guess we'll have to wait and see.
Saturday, 23 August 2014
On catching the Zs and then releasing them.
One of the downsides of being a tiny narcoleptic who loves to hide away from the world is that sometimes the world panics when they can't find her after hours of texting and searching and calling.
My phone was in the pocket of Ben's shirt from yesterday. My hearing aids still in my handbag and my eyes closed tight. I missed lunch. I missed Lochlan's complete meltdown and Ben's weird self-reassurance that I probably went for a walk. I was told they searched all six buildings, all vehicles, the beach and the boat and were on the verge of calling the police when I staggered back into the kitchen half-awake. I sometimes lie down for a minute wherever I can. I fall asleep in seconds during life but never when I'm supposed to. There is no privacy sometimes and I just want to withdraw a little. Plus I get so tired during the day but at night the worries take turns shaking me awake. I will curl up here or there for what seems to be five minutes to my sleeping mind but to them is an entire day.
A stressful one.
The threat is that I am to be microchipped, like the dog. Good. Does that mean no one will wake me up with the yelling and slamming doors?
My phone was in the pocket of Ben's shirt from yesterday. My hearing aids still in my handbag and my eyes closed tight. I missed lunch. I missed Lochlan's complete meltdown and Ben's weird self-reassurance that I probably went for a walk. I was told they searched all six buildings, all vehicles, the beach and the boat and were on the verge of calling the police when I staggered back into the kitchen half-awake. I sometimes lie down for a minute wherever I can. I fall asleep in seconds during life but never when I'm supposed to. There is no privacy sometimes and I just want to withdraw a little. Plus I get so tired during the day but at night the worries take turns shaking me awake. I will curl up here or there for what seems to be five minutes to my sleeping mind but to them is an entire day.
A stressful one.
The threat is that I am to be microchipped, like the dog. Good. Does that mean no one will wake me up with the yelling and slamming doors?
Friday, 22 August 2014
Might sell my soul for that car.
(If it were still mine to sell, I suppose.)
I rendered the Devil speechless with my gesture. He took one step into the salon, saw all of the blue and sat down on one of the chairs.
My brother's eyes. You honored him with this.
No, I honored you with this. I stand on deck, just outside, hands clasped in front of me, shoulders rolled in. I can be kind. I can try to make things easier.
He went down to the lower deck and found more of the blue in the cabins and the stateroom and came bounding back up the steps, the biggest, sweetest smile on his face. He looks so happy. He looks so young when he smiles. He stood right in front of me. Still smiling.
I can't believe this. Why did you do this?
You asked me to have the upholstery changed because it was boring.
You took quite a chance.
What do I have to lose?
If you had made everything red I would have drowned you on the spot. He talks first and thinks second and I turn to go because fuck this.
I'm sorry, Bridget. But knowing you it could have gone that way.
You wouldn't touch me.
I would have made you change it back at your own expense.
Speaking of which, you haven't paid me yet.
Right. Come with me, we'll head out now and I can stop at the bank. He holds out his hand.
I hesitate.
Just come. Maybe there will be a surprise bonus involved.
There was. A drive all the way to Whistler in the R8 for a waffle cone full of Fluff N' Udder from Cows. Because I'm even easier to please than he is lately.
Your revelation.
Yes. The one I should have kept to myself?
The very same, yes. I was wondering if you ever thought about it from my perspective.
Explain.
Maybe Cole was using you to fund our life together. Taking advantage of your grand scheme to keep us afloat so he could paint instead of waste time working. Maybe you were the one who was fooled.
So you think he loved you?
Yes. I do. Who doesn't? Why would he remain immune even as everyone else falls? I don't buy your explanations because I lived with him. I spent my life in his arms. I looked into that blue. I knew him better than you did.
Then I was taken advantage of.
I bet that happens a lot.
I bet it happens less than you might think, Neamhchiontach. How is your ice cream?
Delicious. Do you want a taste?
The look he shot me gave me an ice-cream headache. He didn't waste any effort trying to obscure the meaning or appear proper. I knew the answer without his needing to say a word.
I rendered the Devil speechless with my gesture. He took one step into the salon, saw all of the blue and sat down on one of the chairs.
My brother's eyes. You honored him with this.
No, I honored you with this. I stand on deck, just outside, hands clasped in front of me, shoulders rolled in. I can be kind. I can try to make things easier.
He went down to the lower deck and found more of the blue in the cabins and the stateroom and came bounding back up the steps, the biggest, sweetest smile on his face. He looks so happy. He looks so young when he smiles. He stood right in front of me. Still smiling.
I can't believe this. Why did you do this?
You asked me to have the upholstery changed because it was boring.
You took quite a chance.
What do I have to lose?
If you had made everything red I would have drowned you on the spot. He talks first and thinks second and I turn to go because fuck this.
I'm sorry, Bridget. But knowing you it could have gone that way.
You wouldn't touch me.
I would have made you change it back at your own expense.
Speaking of which, you haven't paid me yet.
Right. Come with me, we'll head out now and I can stop at the bank. He holds out his hand.
I hesitate.
Just come. Maybe there will be a surprise bonus involved.
There was. A drive all the way to Whistler in the R8 for a waffle cone full of Fluff N' Udder from Cows. Because I'm even easier to please than he is lately.
Your revelation.
Yes. The one I should have kept to myself?
The very same, yes. I was wondering if you ever thought about it from my perspective.
Explain.
Maybe Cole was using you to fund our life together. Taking advantage of your grand scheme to keep us afloat so he could paint instead of waste time working. Maybe you were the one who was fooled.
So you think he loved you?
Yes. I do. Who doesn't? Why would he remain immune even as everyone else falls? I don't buy your explanations because I lived with him. I spent my life in his arms. I looked into that blue. I knew him better than you did.
Then I was taken advantage of.
I bet that happens a lot.
I bet it happens less than you might think, Neamhchiontach. How is your ice cream?
Delicious. Do you want a taste?
The look he shot me gave me an ice-cream headache. He didn't waste any effort trying to obscure the meaning or appear proper. I knew the answer without his needing to say a word.
Thursday, 21 August 2014
Busy being productive, busy running away within myself.
The downside of living with an introverted, solitary, melancholy-millionaire is that he has a boat he doesn't board unless I go with him. A boat he never takes out, maintained with the detachment of someone who doesn't know how to relax and therefore gets little value from.
On the upside I have discovered the engine room on the boat is the perfect place to hide. No wonder they freak out and consider me drowned in the sea every time they can't find me. I leave messages for the kids. I don't for the adults. Ruth sometimes brings her sketchbooks down and spreads out on deck with her charcoal and headphones. Henry plays video games in the salon.
Not sure what the fuss is. If we still had a treehouse I'd be in that instead. The boat is as close to a treehouse as we will get here.
Because bears.
I had all of the upholstery and linens changed from their bland gold and tan to a lovely stormy dark blue. It's an indescribable North Atlantic blue, grey-navy, smoky rich. Cool dark tealish color. Cole's eyes.
It looks so much better. Sometimes I think this is my toy instead of his.
And that's fine.
Maybe one of these days I'll take her out but our cove is tiny and this would be the equivalent of parking Ben's F350 on a postage stamp for me.
(I can't park his truck, when I go somewhere I use a space at the end of a parking lot and walk for miles and when I get home I leave it idling in the center of the driveway and someone comes out and deals with it.
But I can deal with leading the custom upholstery people down to the boat and then collect them again to inspect the job and furnish their departure. I'm good with details and terrible with big pictures. I paid a fortune in extra fees because instead of bringing the boat to them, I had them brought to me. This boat is a waste of money.
As is his costly personal assistant who barely speaks to him.
On the upside I have a beautiful hiding place. Her name? Neamhchiontach. Just like me.
On the upside I have discovered the engine room on the boat is the perfect place to hide. No wonder they freak out and consider me drowned in the sea every time they can't find me. I leave messages for the kids. I don't for the adults. Ruth sometimes brings her sketchbooks down and spreads out on deck with her charcoal and headphones. Henry plays video games in the salon.
Not sure what the fuss is. If we still had a treehouse I'd be in that instead. The boat is as close to a treehouse as we will get here.
Because bears.
I had all of the upholstery and linens changed from their bland gold and tan to a lovely stormy dark blue. It's an indescribable North Atlantic blue, grey-navy, smoky rich. Cool dark tealish color. Cole's eyes.
It looks so much better. Sometimes I think this is my toy instead of his.
And that's fine.
Maybe one of these days I'll take her out but our cove is tiny and this would be the equivalent of parking Ben's F350 on a postage stamp for me.
(I can't park his truck, when I go somewhere I use a space at the end of a parking lot and walk for miles and when I get home I leave it idling in the center of the driveway and someone comes out and deals with it.
But I can deal with leading the custom upholstery people down to the boat and then collect them again to inspect the job and furnish their departure. I'm good with details and terrible with big pictures. I paid a fortune in extra fees because instead of bringing the boat to them, I had them brought to me. This boat is a waste of money.
As is his costly personal assistant who barely speaks to him.
On the upside I have a beautiful hiding place. Her name? Neamhchiontach. Just like me.
Wednesday, 20 August 2014
Starved.
Lochlan has a huge project right now that is keeping him from the usual routine of throwing fire and flipping tables. Schuyler is a taskmaster and keeps wrapping him up in these huge things with nice payouts and while they do keep Loch out of trouble I miss him something fierce. So when he came home very late last night we ordered a pizza and took some cheap wine out on the balcony and sat and stared at each other while we chewed our food.
He cut his hair because it was driving him crazy in the heat. His curls just get flatter as his hair gets longer and so now he's back to his wavy mess but he looks good.
You're not going, Peanut.
Of course I'm not.
He'll talk you into it.
If you think I'm going to a place where they arrest people for holding hands in public you're mistaken.
If you think you can outwit the devil you're naive.
Make the wall, then, and defend. I won't go and he can't force the issue against all of you.
That's true.
So let's change the subject because I will be safe.
Okay, what would you like to do? Did you want to watch a movie or something?
I raise my eyebrows and drain my wine without a word.
Oh, I see.
What do you see?
I see you're wearing too many clothes and I haven't touched you all day.
Right on both. Can we fix this?
We can fix this.
He cut his hair because it was driving him crazy in the heat. His curls just get flatter as his hair gets longer and so now he's back to his wavy mess but he looks good.
You're not going, Peanut.
Of course I'm not.
He'll talk you into it.
If you think I'm going to a place where they arrest people for holding hands in public you're mistaken.
If you think you can outwit the devil you're naive.
Make the wall, then, and defend. I won't go and he can't force the issue against all of you.
That's true.
So let's change the subject because I will be safe.
Okay, what would you like to do? Did you want to watch a movie or something?
I raise my eyebrows and drain my wine without a word.
Oh, I see.
What do you see?
I see you're wearing too many clothes and I haven't touched you all day.
Right on both. Can we fix this?
We can fix this.
Tuesday, 19 August 2014
Yawns aren't contagious and that's how I know he's Satan.
(It's not even eight in the morning so this won't be arranged the way I like it but I rounded up my hourly rate for the Devil for my assistant services and he didn't even bat an eye so here the fuck I am. We've hit mid five figures. This makes me laugh. I don't even know what I've gotten myself into anymore that he pays me so much for doing stupid things he could hire a service to do for fifty bucks. Especially since I wind up giving it all back to him in rent and putting what the boys give me toward their share into certificates that they can cash in later, with interest. I'm nice like that. I try to look after them too because they look after me. And that is all above board and has nothing to do with sex, since fully a third of my readers have decided I must be sleeping with everyone. Christ, people. I would have been worn clear through years ago.)
Caleb uses work as an excuse to chip away at my resolve when I'm angry with him. I get easily distracted in the details and drop my guard every. single. time. We only seem to be at DEFCON 3 today though. He's being Charming. I'm being Distrustful. We're using our Words. This Sucks.
I am terrified of revolving doors and won't walk through one alone.
Converting dirhams to dollars is pretty easy and surprisingly cheap, making this trip I'm trying to finalize for Caleb to Dubai in November much less painful than I expected it would be. The Atlantis? Check. Races? Check. Dolphins? Check. Driver? Check. Bridget? Not on your life.
Cookies before ten in the morning? Gross. Not what I meant by breakfast pastries.
Headache? Check.
Coffee? Where? It hasn't been delivered yet.
Idiot wasn't ready when I arrived either. Also well planned. He's possibly the only boss that can spend the first quarter of a workday in nothing but a towel and not get sued for it.
I really have no patience for this today.
He just offered to reformat his Dubai meetings to Sydney if I wanted to go there instead and doesn't get that I'm not leaving the continent with him. Also, you know, I JUST FINISHED booking everything.
Since he slipped that I technically have to sign nothing, I'm back to actually not signing anything and it's nice to just say no.
I do love planning his trips though. Maybe I should have been a travel agent but close enough, I'm a dreamer.
Oh look, fucker can do something. He's ordering a rush breakfast. Finally.
I hate this office. But he hates working from the boathouse so once he was dressed we moved.
I hate my dress too. Maybe light wool before ten in the morning is also gross. So are these shoes. His dress code for work is misogynistic beyond the pale. I should be home in my cutoffs and my Breaking Benjamin tank top. I hear rumors of new music. All the Bens are spooling up at once here.
And the screen on my phone now displays a message from Lochlan. He's so sweet.
It says,
GET
YOUR
ASS
HOME
NOW
It's so nice to be wanted. He's up early though. I feel like a tug of war. I feel like a loser. I feel like crawling out of this dress backwards and walking down West Georgia naked sipping on a pitcher full of coffee. I wonder how far I would get? That would be something. Something better than this.
But not right now, because I forgot to block the meeting rooms for the trip. Shit.
Caleb uses work as an excuse to chip away at my resolve when I'm angry with him. I get easily distracted in the details and drop my guard every. single. time. We only seem to be at DEFCON 3 today though. He's being Charming. I'm being Distrustful. We're using our Words. This Sucks.
I am terrified of revolving doors and won't walk through one alone.
Converting dirhams to dollars is pretty easy and surprisingly cheap, making this trip I'm trying to finalize for Caleb to Dubai in November much less painful than I expected it would be. The Atlantis? Check. Races? Check. Dolphins? Check. Driver? Check. Bridget? Not on your life.
Cookies before ten in the morning? Gross. Not what I meant by breakfast pastries.
Headache? Check.
Coffee? Where? It hasn't been delivered yet.
Idiot wasn't ready when I arrived either. Also well planned. He's possibly the only boss that can spend the first quarter of a workday in nothing but a towel and not get sued for it.
I really have no patience for this today.
He just offered to reformat his Dubai meetings to Sydney if I wanted to go there instead and doesn't get that I'm not leaving the continent with him. Also, you know, I JUST FINISHED booking everything.
Since he slipped that I technically have to sign nothing, I'm back to actually not signing anything and it's nice to just say no.
I do love planning his trips though. Maybe I should have been a travel agent but close enough, I'm a dreamer.
Oh look, fucker can do something. He's ordering a rush breakfast. Finally.
I hate this office. But he hates working from the boathouse so once he was dressed we moved.
I hate my dress too. Maybe light wool before ten in the morning is also gross. So are these shoes. His dress code for work is misogynistic beyond the pale. I should be home in my cutoffs and my Breaking Benjamin tank top. I hear rumors of new music. All the Bens are spooling up at once here.
And the screen on my phone now displays a message from Lochlan. He's so sweet.
It says,
GET
YOUR
ASS
HOME
NOW
It's so nice to be wanted. He's up early though. I feel like a tug of war. I feel like a loser. I feel like crawling out of this dress backwards and walking down West Georgia naked sipping on a pitcher full of coffee. I wonder how far I would get? That would be something. Something better than this.
But not right now, because I forgot to block the meeting rooms for the trip. Shit.
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