Mr. McDermott swiped at the mess on his chest and shook his head. “You’re sorry? You ruined a two-thousand-dollar Perry Ellis, and you’re sorry?”
“I have a twisted ankle from running back…” she started lamely, trailing off when she saw that it was making no impression on him whatsoever.
“Then maybe you’ll have time to go to the hospital and have it checked out. Right now. You’re fired and I’ll be sending you the bill for the suit you destroyed. Be grateful that tepid mess you call coffee barely qualified as warm or I’d have you sued for burning me, too. Now, Addison, get the fuck out.”
***
“It was horrible!” she said, drinking some of her brother’s Pabst Blue Ribbon and trying to pretend it didn’t taste like utter piss to her.
Overall, Addison wasn’t much of a drinker. She would get something like a cosmo or a mojito if she were out with the girls, but harder stuff or just plain beer wasn’t her style. However, she had thousands to pay off—tens of thousands—and had just been fired from her first job. Even the bitter taste of the Pabst was helping soothe some of that bite. Now, if only she drank about six more and passed out, at least she’d get some sleep.
William rubbed at his goatee. She hated that look. It didn’t fit his round face and it made his freckles somehow stick out even more. While being a pale redhead and one with some curves worked for her (she dated quite a bit in college), her twin had gotten the short end of the stick. He was pudgy, short, and had a look that could best be summed up as a Ron Weasley. The goatee made him look that much weirder, like a used-car salesman for Satan.
Still, he loved her and he’d rushed home to comfort her when she’d called with the news. Hell, he’d even been able to interpret all her cries and mumbled speaking over the phone in the first place to figure out what had happened.
If only he’d use a razor again.
“I’m glad you got fired, sis.”
“What?” she asked, spilling ale on the carpet. “Why? Now we’re out half the rent we were sharing. Now I’m just some awful mooch who lives on your sofa.”
“You have your own room,” he said, winking back at her. “He was awful to you.”
“But I was getting paid, and I was doing okay, and now I don’t know what to do. Mom’s sick and I can’t ask them to help.”
“I’m here. I’m not going to kick you out.”
“But…”
“I have a bit saved up, and if we need to sublet to a third roommate or make this an Airbnb, or whatever, then we will. I’m serious. That McDermott guy was a creep. He was only interested in lording over you. He made you come in at five in the morning on weekends and he made you cry so many times. I’m very glad. That kind of environment isn’t good for you.”
“Then how will I get a new job? I look like a big failure.”
Her brother snorted and drained his beer in three huge gulps. Show off. “I bet there are a ton of people in the Boston Metro area who’ve worked with McDermott Steel or know him from other business dealings. I’m sure everyone knows that guy’s an egocentric dickhead.”
She chuckled. “As opposed to the other kinds of dickheads.”
“Oh, they definitely come in varieties,” he replied. “My point is, some people will probably be amazed you lasted eight months with the ass and will then nominate you for sainthood.”
“If that would pay the bills, then that would be great.”
“I’ll put in a good word at the bank. We could always use another teller.”
“Thanks. I’ll start on the classifieds on Monday, but I feel like such a failure. I mean, I studied art and design, and it wasn’t like my life goal was to fetch coffee every day and guess and hope that the cup I bought was the correct one. That wasn’t my dream, but what kind of idiot just spills coffee on her boss?”
“One who had to wear heels because of the dress code and ran like half the city in them. I can understand how you’d have blisters for days. Jeez, sis. Don’t put all the pressure on yourself,” Will said, setting down his beer can. “I know you’re probably not in the mood for this at all, but maybe you could use something more than moping back here in the apartment. Besides, you’re clearly not having fun with just my ironically delicious beer and the TV on Judge Judy reruns.”
“I could be very into the legal system,” she quipped, rubbing at her stuffy nose. “But what are you suggesting?” Addison asked warily.
She loved her brother, but besides his hipster leanings, he’d actually been a wild man in college and had been to pretty much every big party in Boston for four years due to his frat. He still sometimes dabbled in extreme nightlife living while she was more likely to be at home watching Saturday Night Live until she conked out.
Will regarded her gently. “One of the guys who was a Chi Sigma when I was a freshman pledge…he’s hit it pretty big and has some ties to these guys who run the Club Rouge. They’re having some huge costume party there tonight, and it’s supposed to be the biggest thing going in Boston. I wasn’t feeling it at first, because when you’ve been to one supposedly hot club then you’ve been to them all.”
She snorted. “That does not sound like you at all.”
“Okay, then caught. What I meant to say was that I wasn’t really into costumes and crap. I think I can run down to this one place and grab a crappy mask, but that theme isn’t my idea of a good time. However, you tell me, oh fashion goddess sister, that you can’t just whip up something in a pinch or have a cool costume back there in your room.”
Addison blushed. She’d started getting into fashion as a teen but in an unusual way. She’d been a huge convention goer and gotten into cosplay, creating amazing designs based on comic books and anime. Then she’d taken that interest into design and other things in college. There just wasn’t a huge job market for it. Even while she slaved away for Mr. McDermott, Addison worked at night creating dresses and other fashions under her own style. She actually had something that would be great for a masquerade party, both a dress and a mask.
“I do, but I’m tired and drunk already.”
“So what? It’s only two o’clock. Crash for a bit then get prepped to go and have a party.”
“I should probably be restructuring and fluffing up my resume,” Addison admitted.
Her brother grinned and wrapped an arm around her shoulder. “Nah, sis, you should party and make a huge thing of it. After a day like this, the drinks should never stop flowing.”
She rolled her eyes but nodded. Drinking wasn’t her style, but it had been the worst day of her life. If she just let go a little bit tonight at Club Rouge, then what was the worst that could happen?
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Sheikh's Fake Fiancee Page 11
