“Oh…my…God…” Cari is a slow talker when she’s drunk. I mean slow as in it takes like two hours to figure out what she’s talking about half of the time. “That would be epic.”
“Epic,” I repeat. “My life has taken an epic nose dive.”
“I think you’re looking at this the wrong way. I think it took a huge step forward or got better…whatever.” She waves her hand in a pretty drunk girl way. “You got rid of a piece of shit boyfriend and kicked that deposition’s ass today. I say, win win.”
Inspired, I get up too quickly and have to hold onto the mantle to steady myself.
“Where you going?”
“I have a better plan.” I walk to the kitchen, pull out drawers and slam them shut until I find what I’m looking for. I stalk down the hall with a pair of tongs in one hand and a gallon Ziploc bag in the other. Cari follows me silently. I bend to pick up, what I can only hope are, the secretary’s panties and put them in the bag. Then I put the vibrator in the bag as well and seal it up. I nod at Cari as I walk back to the den and put the bag in my purse.
“So you’re going to give her the panties and the vibrator at the same time?”
I nod. “Hopefully in front of the managing partner.” A vindictive smile breaks out on my face and I laugh.
“Are you sure you want to do that?” Cari falls into the couch and takes another gulp of vodka. She’s drinking straight vodka because she finished all the flat Fresca. “We should’ve had Jack bring us mixers.”
“Oh don’t be a baby,” I chastise as I fall into the chair that faces the door. I still have the tongs in my hand and I’m using them to emphasize my points, like an extension of my hands.
“I guess you’re right, I don’t even taste anything anymore.” She glances around like she’s looking for something. “My teeth are numb.”
“Do your teeth do that too when you’re drunk?” I ask while poking my teeth with my fingers. She mimics my movements and nods. “My brain is numb too, which is exactly what I needed.” This is what I was going for. It’s not that Chad was the love of my life, that ship already sailed, but it’s fucking embarrassing. Who catches her boyfriend fucking the secretary?
“Sometimes it’s okay to cry Megan,” Cari prods.
“I don’t cry,” I lie in an attempt to convince myself Chad is not worth crying over.
“You’re always so hard. You should fucking cry. You found your boyfriend fucking someone. Let it out,” she shouts. She’s getting dramatic now.
“You should’ve been an actor.”
“Modeling is acting,” she retorts.
Oh, I forgot to tell you she was a “model”? Sorry about that, she was on one advertisement for a local restaurant in her early twenties and has considered herself a model since then. I bite back my sarcastic response. The fact is I want to cry and scream at the injustice of it all, but it’s really not a surprise. I feel stupid. I feel more stupid than I do upset. I’m not dumb. I’m smart and I haven’t acted like it for the past two years with this douche nozzle. This is why I’m drinking. Because I don’t know what happened. Was I so lonely I got with the first guy who paid me any attention after Peter?
“So how do you think Chad will act tomorrow?”
“Fuck if I know, but I know how I’m going to act.”
“I hope you don’t get fired.” Cari looks through her phone. “He changed his Facebook coupledom to say it’s complicated.”
“What the fuck?” Rage surges through my entire body. “It’s complicated?” I explode as I pull my iPad on my lap and tap the Facebook icon. I look up my former boyfriend with his perfect fucking picture of him in a suit with the bow tie I bought him for Christmas. I want to strangle him with that bow tie for making me look so fucking idiotic. Then I post this on his wall.
It’s not complicated. You were caught fucking your secretary in my bedroom. You are single and able to mingle. Good luck with that.
Cari appears over my shoulder. “That’s extremely good grammar for someone who’s consumed an entire bottle of liquor by herself.”
“Thank you.” I hit post and scroll through my friends. “I must unfriend him and his friends.”
“Yes, let’s purge Facebook,” Cari shouts.
“I currently have 567 friends,” I announce.
“I have 569,” Cari responds, not even looking at her phone.
“Of course you do.” I smile at her one-upsmanship. That’s not a word? I just made it up. You knew what it meant, right? I begin unfriending people.
“Jerry, I don’t like you, unfriend.”
“I’m tired,” Cari whines.
“Fuck you,” I sing as I unfriend anyone who I met through Chad.
“You don’t think I do anything because I don’t work.” She’s actually starting to slur.
“I never said that,” I say defensively.
“You don’t have to. I know women like you.” She waggles her index finger at me. “You…working women.”
I laugh. “Yes…I work.”
“Well, I work too.” She crosses her arms on her chest.
“I know you do Cari.” This is a true statement. She volunteers for everything she can. She is with Jackson twenty-four/seven. She hires people to clean. I think she cooks.
“You do not.” She falls back into the couch.
“I do so, being a mom is a hard job.”
“Stop being condescending.”
“I’m not,” I retort. I’m really not. I know she works.
“I don’t need a job to be validated.”
“You just said you work.”
“I do.”
“You’re having an argument with yourself,” I chastise. “And you’re sort of losing.”
“Whatever,” she says and pours another vodka, spilling half of the liquor on my coffee table.
Yep, we stopped even needing ice a few glasses ago.
“What’s going on?” I ask. She’s always so confident in everything, this is confusing me.
“I just don’t feel like Jack appreciates what I do.” Her body literally sags into the couch.
“Cari, that’s ridiculous and you know it. You’re drunk and tired. Just lie back and go to sleep. I’m going to grab some blankets. Do you want to sleep in the guest room? I can sleep on the couch.”
“You’re not going to sleep in your room?” She yawns.
I shake my head. I can’t seem to shake the image of Chad and the vibrator thief.
“Okay, I’ll go to the guest room.” She gets up and walks down the hall, leaving me lying on the floor. “I love you Megan.”
“I know.” I stare at the ceiling. I roll over and stare at the text messages on my phone that started coming in after my Facebook post. I turn my phone off. I am so over today.
Chapter Four
Use Your Manners
I roll into my office around 7:30 the next morning with the largest cup of coffee I could order from my regular coffee shop. Hardcore right? A few hours ago I was drunk as shit, posting about my ex-boyfriend on social media. We need to have a conversation about social media. It’s like an obsession, our need to tell everyone what we are doing all the time.
“This is what I’m eating for dinner.” Posted with a picture.
“Look where I am.” From the mall.
“Be jealous.” A selfie from a concert.
I mean, the world has gotten a little weird. Right? By the way, I’m sort of still drunk. I need some kind of greasy bread thing…
I walk past my secretary’s desk and into my office. I put my bag down and turn on my computer. My office is nice, but not like you see on TV. That shit isn’t real. As my computer boots up, I see I have several appointments today and a brief due tomorrow. I’m almost done with the brief, so I don’t worry about it too much. I can totally write a kick ass brief semi-drunk, I have before. I walk to the kitchen to see if there is anything to eat and Justin is there, already sipping from his “kill the lawyers” mug. He spits out his coffee when h
e sees me.
I’m unsure what to think about this reaction. I look okay, I asked Cari, twice. She only looked at me with one eye open, but I trust she would tell me if I looked crazy.
“Holy shit, Megan. I heard about what happened.”
I know he did, he texted me like thirty times last night.
“What do you mean? How I kicked the expert’s ass yesterday?” I’m acting nonchalant, trying to see how he found out about Chad.
“Um, no, but you did?”
“Yep. I did. I have everything I need now for my summary judgment motion.” I slip right into the attorney role.
“Oh, Richard is going to love that,” Justin says as he mops up coffee from the wall above the coffee maker.
I pull out a doughnut with pink frosting and sprinkles on it. Do adults even eat doughnuts like this? I take a bite and I’m transported to when my dad used to take me and Cari to get doughnuts every Saturday morning growing up. I smile and close my eyes, savoring the memory. My eyes snap open when I hear Chad’s voice down the hall, and I stand a little straighter.
“I heard about Chad,” Justin says softly.
“Well, I put it on Facebook so I’d expect you did,” I retort.
“Are you okay?” he whispers like I may break down or fall apart. He should know me better than this. I see him ten hours out of most days, he knows me better than most people in the world.
“Are you kidding me? I’m fine,” I say and wave my hand, dismissing the thought. I exit the kitchen and walk back to my office.
People are here in the office early, right? It’s true, attorneys usually come in an hour before the administrative staff. I close my door and curse, wishing it had a lock. Sitting at my desk in front of the computer, I lean back in my chair, put my feet on the desk, and begin dictating a memo summarizing the deposition from yesterday. This is so our clients will know how awesome I am, and I can have it for the file. I also can bill for it. A knock sounds and the door opens. Are you like me and actually wait until someone asks you to come in? I mean what if I was changing shirts or something? When you knock on a door, you are asking if you can come in. You are not announcing your arrival. Asshole.
“Chad,” I say, not turning around to face him. I can tell it’s him from his breathing. Even his breathing annoys me today.
“Megan.”
I continue dictating and he just stands there in the door of my office. I finally take my feet off my desk and turn around.
“Can I help you?” I ask politely.
“I thought you may want to talk about…”
“Nope,” I cut him off. “I’m good.” My face tells him he is wasting my fucking billable time.
“But…”
“Chad, I’m really busy. Could you shut the door on the way out?”
Silence.
My back is to him again, and I pick up where I left off with the deposition. I hear the door shut behind me. Glancing at the clock, I plan my strategy while dictating the memorandum. My phone dings indicating it’s go time.
Grabbing the gallon Ziploc bag out of my purse, I walk casually toward Richard’s, the managing partner, office. Sitting outside the office is the little vibrator thief with her hair in a loose ponytail, too low-cut for work shirt. She’s twisting a pen in her pouty mouth, the little whore. Nothing like trying too hard. She looks up and fear is evident in her eyes when she sees me, which amuses me. At least she has common sense. She should be scared, but not in the way she thinks. I could give a fuck about her relationship with Chad. Richard’s door is open, and I can hear him moving around in his office. My lips turn up quickly. Steven, another attorney, and Chad are both in their respective offices on either side of Richard’s.
I clear my throat loudly and plunk down the Ziploc bag on her desk. I smile the best eat shit smile I can muster. “You ran out of my bedroom so fast yesterday after your lunch tryst with Chad that you left some things I’m sure you’ll miss.”
Her mouth drops open with a large O.
I lean in but keep my voice at a level that Richard can hear. “You really shouldn’t use other people’s things without asking, boyfriends included.”
“Megan,” Richard walks to the door. “Come in here once you’re finished please.”
“Oh I’m finished,” I say. “By the way, you want him, you can have him. I’ll be surprised if he hasn’t already moved in with you.” I tilt my head in condescension because I know he stayed with her last night.
When I turn and walk into Richard’s office, my vibrator and her panties are still on the edge of her desk where I left them. Then I see Justin standing in the hall laughing. I wink at him and close the door behind me.
“What the fuck was that?” Richard yells from behind his desk. When I say yell, I mean they probably heard him in the next building.
“Well, sir, I was returning what’s her name’s panties and vibrator from the lunch date she had with my live in boyfriend.” I’m not ashamed when I say this, it’s a fact.
“Are you kidding me?” His face goes from angry to amused.
“Is it funny?” I ask.
He looks at me, and then he breaks out in a smile and laughs short quick bursts of sound.
I step back because I wasn’t expecting it.
“Yes, it is funny.” He puts his palm down on his vast cherry wood desk and his University of Florida ring sparkles on his hand. He played football there one of the years they won to the National Championship, so I don’t think he’s taken that ring off since he was nineteen.
“I heard you killed it yesterday,” he says after he’s done laughing.
“I did.” I nod curtly.
“Well, sounds like you had a hell of a day. Why don’t you take the day off? Is the brief done in Brickson?”
“Almost.” I’m standing on my heels to relieve some of the pressure in the toe of these shoes. They’re super hot, but very uncomfortable. I only wear them in the office. I’m very strategic about the heels I wear.
“Well, finish up and then go home or even better yet, drown your sorrows in Johnny Walker Black.” He sits down and leans back in his chair.
“No sorrows sir, but I have no problem leaving after I get everything ready for the brief.” I turn and open the door. He inhales audibly as if he’s about to say something, so I shut the door again.
“You’re amazing at what you do. Know that.” He nods curtly and then turns his head back to me, obviously done.
I stand there for a few seconds because it is the only real compliment I’ve ever received from him. I drink it in greedily but keep it on the palate for a minute. I’m savoring it because it will be a long time before I get another one.
I’m banging away at the keyboard with my door shut and music on. I need music to work, to drown out everything else going on in my head. What am I listening to right now? I’m listening to Tori Amos. You don’t know her? You should. She is a female empowering, mad as shit singer who I listen to when I want to go on a rampage and stab people.
I feel a hand on my shoulder. A maddening thought flashes through my brain that I will punch Chad in the balls if he wants to “talk” again. When I whip around in my chair, ready to grab his testicles, it’s just Justin. His perfectly styled sandy blond hair is tousled like a model. He’s wearing a royal blue and white checked shirt with a canary yellow tie paired with his charcoal suit.
“You’re lucky I didn’t ball punch you,” I say, and then turn back around to type the conclusion of my brief.
“We’re taking you out tomorrow night,” Justin says, backing away so he’s not close enough to get smacked.
“I didn’t mean I was going to hit you, I thought you were Chad wanting to talk again.”
“He tried to talk to you today?” Disbelief is evident in his voice.
I hit print and turn to face Justin. “Yes. I have to tell you I hope he moves in with Vibrator.” That’s what I’ve decided to call the bitch, I should send her an invoice for my old one.
�
�I can’t believe you brought her your vibrator and her panties and put them on her desk.” Justin laughs. “I always thought you were too good for him.” He lowers his voice like he’s telling me a secret.
“Justin, where are you taking me Saturday night and who’s going? I’m going shopping today and probably going to do some major damage. I need to buy the exact outfit for getting fucked after finding your live in boyfriend balls deep in his secretary.”
“I wonder if they make Hallmark cards for that?” Justin chuckles hesitantly.
“Maybe I should submit my own idea. On the front there’d be a couple kissing, then when you open the card there’d be a puddle of blood under a cartoon drawing of a man with the saying, ‘I’m sorry you were arrested for cutting Simon’s dick off, but you know it was worth it.’”
Justin’s laughter echoes through my office, and it makes me smile. “To think I was worried for one second.” Justin walks to the door. “I’ll text you in a few to let you know where I’ve decided to take you,” he calls over his shoulder.
Pulling up my motion, I send it and my brief to my secretary, Jennifer. I gather my things and turn off the light in my office. As I pass Jennifer’s desk, I stop and pull out my phone. “I just sent you the Brickson motion and brief, edit it and sign my name. I’m getting out of here.” I’m not going to read through it again because Jennifer is awesome and believe me I’ve had shit secretaries.
“I’m so sorry about Chad.” Her eyes are full of pity.
“Don’t be,” I say curtly. I cannot stand people pitying me. I want to rip his fucking head off for this, the looks I keep getting. I cannot even be near him right now I’m so full of rage.
Chapter Five
Is Shopping Really Cheaper Than Therapy?
I unload the ten bags of clothes from my trunk and walk to the front door of my house. Then I remember the locks have changed and can’t remember where I put the new key. “Mother fuck,” I mutter under my breath and set all my new purchases down. I dig around in my big, annoying purse. I swear every purse I own is like a huge black hole where things go to hide or die.
Sunshine & Whiskey Page 3
