Waiting For The Other Shoe to Drop: Part Six-A



The day dragged by and I spent most of it looking over my shoulder hoping to see Rich coming my way to cancel on me. Yes, I wanted him to say what happened in my car was a mistake. I felt as if I was about jump off a cliff into another bad decision.
                But what if this wasn’t a bad decision? I was horny and I needed a release. Sighing as I spotted my boss charging my way, I couldn’t help but think that my shitty day was about get shittier.
                “Mimi,” he said. “This project in Charlotte is extremely important and I understand that Richard has already informed you of my decision to have you two work together. I hope you understand it’s not an indictment of your work, but this is a chance for you to prove that you’re a team player. We’re going to start streamlining this office. I got that from corporate this morning. I’d hate to lose you but. . .”
                “What are you saying?” I asked, calmly. What I really wanted to do was hop out of my seat and roundhouse kick this fool in the face and stand over him telling him that he could kiss the blackest part of my black ass.
                “In your last review, we talked about this,” he said, lowering his voice slightly. “Your position here depends on the success of this project and landing Carolina Health System as our client.”
                Leaning back in my chair, I looked up at Perry, still having homicidal thoughts about him –including choking him with my mouse cord.  “Though you think I should be more social with my coworker, have I ever not landed a client?”
                “Well, no. Your work is good, but that’s just. . .”
                “Mr. Perry,  I get it. Richard and I will be bosom buddies and land this account so that you can tell corporate that you run fun land around here.”
                His face reddened. “See, this is what I’m talking about. You’re borderline insubordinate.”
                And you’re borderline stupid ass motherfucker, I thought through my smile. “I don’t mean to be,” I replied.
                Perry shook his head then walked away. The 12-year-old inside me wanted to flip him off and make faces, instead, I held my composure, shut down my computer and began packing my belongings. It was 4:30 and I was leaving. Perry could hug and kiss my ass. 

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