Heartbreak's A Bitch!

by S. M Phillips

  See, I knew deep down that she still loved me. Regardless if my inner bitch is out of her box, or not. Secretly I think Rachel enjoys it more when she comes out to play every now and again.

  Sometimes life just needs to be mixed up a little bit.

  “Hey Parker, feeling a little sexually frustrated are we?”

  My shoulders tense and my whole body stiffens; one knee firmly jammed against the photocopier drawer to prevent it from swinging open like it does time and time again.

  “Well, not today sunshine.”

  I bloody wish someone around here would have the decency, or at least have enough brain cells to actually get this thing fixed instead of trying to pussy foot around and just make do with it.

  Trust me, when it’s finally fixed, more work would get done around here and jobs that should be finished would get finished way ahead of time, instead of plowing through a constant bloody backlog.

  “Please don’t start Matt. Not today. I’m really not in the mood for any of your childish bullshit, okay?” I try my best to plead with him, even though I know it’s in vain.

  “Oh, someone definitely needs to get laid and fast.” He continues, totally ignoring me, trying to push me as far as he can, desperate for some kind of reaction from me.

  “Matt…” I say again, this time more affirmative. I’ve got an absolute shed-load of contracts to copy and keeping my knee pressed into this piece of shit is taking every ounce of energy that I have left in my tired and emotionally drained body. If I lose my grip now, even just a little, that’s it… game over and I’ll have no choice but to start all over again.

  “Parker, you know I’ll always be happy to help you out on that front. Any time, any place.”

  “Bloody hell, for God sake Matt, I’m warning you. Bullshit… not today,” I haven’t even turned myself around to look at him, yet I know for a fact that he’s spinning around on his chair, smug grin fixed firmly in place, while he carries out his office clown act.

  “For everything that’s holy, God help me and prevent me from committing the mother of all crimes… Murder.”

  Holding my breath, I slowly count to ten, before finally exhaling on a long, dramatic sigh.

  Great, this is bloody perfect. Now I feel like a right moody-arse cow-bag and that really wasn’t my intention at all.

  I love Matt. I mean, I really, really adore the bones of the guy. I might have even had the odd naughty and slightly erotic dream about him here and there too, but that’s really beside the point right now and definitely something that he doesn’t need to know about, ever. We’ve worked alongside each other for years now and he’s been there for me through thick and thin. He’s been by my side through some bloody amazing times, times where I’ve been too pissed to remember everything clearly, but he’s also been a true legend and stuck by my side throughout all the messed up and not so nice times too.

  I guess he’s really a perfect example of all my needs rolled into one big human-sized piece of awesomeness, yet for some weird reason unbeknownst to me, he absolutely thrives from winding me up. The guy lives for it. I guess I’ll never really know what sad little kick he gets out of it, but it must be some good kind of high because he does it all the time, desperate to get some form of reaction from me.

  Usually, I’d be quick to take it all in my stride, always giving back as good as I got, but today the bitch is back and she’s well and truly out of her box and there’s nothing and no one that can stop her.

  “Oh, chill out for a minute woman. I’ve got you a coffee here if you want it?”

  “Coffee?” Oh, now he’s gone and bloody done it, hasn’t he? He’s only gone and ruined all my willpower. But coffee, though. I know I should be a little mad, mad at how easily distracted I become at the mere mention of caffeine. I guess I just need to face facts and openly admit that I’m a major caffeine whore who’ll do just about anything to get my fix. It doesn’t matter how hard I try, I just can’t seem to say no.

  Sod it. Halle-fucking-lujah there is someone looking out for my sanity after all. Without so much as a hesitation, my knee instantly falls from the machine that’s been holding me prisoner and the moment my foot touches the floor, my body instantly begins to relax. I spin around and see Matt watching me; waiting for me to take his bait with a cocky smirk etched across his rugged, yet dangerously handsome face. When our eyes meet, he nods his head towards the photocopier. The coffee in his hands has me hook, line and sinker.

  “Giving up so soon, Parker?” He quips.

  “Sod the contracts and hand me my coffee.” Hell, I know that I need it.

  “Jeez, Louise” He whistles. “If only getting you into bed was that easy, I’d be grabbing you coffee’s all day long.” When I don’t acknowledge his ridiculous remark he smiles and throws me a cheeky wink too.

  “Bloody hell. I suppose God doesn’t half love a trier.”

  “What’s the drama today, then?”

  “I beg your pardon, drama… me?” I ask, one hand placed firmly around my coffee cup, the other pressed gently against my heart. “Why would you say such things to me, Matthew? I’m hurt.” I lie.

  He laughs his boyish laugh at me and gently knocks his shoe against mine. “Oh c’mon Emily. This is you that we are talking about here. Are you really trying to tell me that it’s possible for you to have a day in your life that’s drama free? That shit just doesn’t happen and you know it.”

  “No, you’re right,” I agree wholeheartedly with him “but I’m still living in hope that one day I might just wake up to some strange, foreign, calm environment and I mean while I’m still living in the real world. Hey, a girl can always dream, right?” I add, more to reassure myself, rather than Matt.

  I’ve been dreaming of a drama free day for years. I mean, is it really too much to ask for one day where I don’t have to worry about being an adult and making sure that all the boring shit gets done? One day, one bloody day is all that I’m asking for where someone wants to take care of me for a change, to make sure that I’m all right. I’ve got more chance of Tom bloody Hardy waltzing through my office and whipping me off my feet.

  “What are you doing here so early anyway? I saw you loitering earlier when I left the gym.” At the mention of our gym on the top floor, I’m reminded that I still haven’t stepped foot in the place all year, despite my daily motivational ‘post-its’ scattered about on my desk and the fact that I’ve scheduled an hour a day into my calendar for the foreseeable. Maybe I should look at asking someone if it’s possible to trade my staff subscription to something a little more useful; like a year’s supply of wine or something. It wouldn’t be so much of a wasted staff perk that way and I would definitely make use of it, that’s for sure. I make a quick mental note to jot that idea down on a post it as soon as I get a chance.

  “Woah, woah Matthew. Are you my personal stalker now, or something?” I don’t know whether I should be weirded out by this, or flattered.

  “Personally, I’d like to think of myself more of a glorified bodyguard.” I can’t help the snort that escapes me. What the hell is happening to him? “Hey, what’s with your face? Don’t you dare sit there and pretend that you haven’t been drooling over these bad boys.” Matt flexes his biceps a little and I automatically roll my eyes at him.

  Yes, admittedly he does have a beautiful set of biceps and yes, the intricate designs on his tattoos do catch my eye from time to time, but that doesn’t mean I want to jump his bones, does it?

  Men. No matter what anyone says, they’re all the bloody same.

  “You know that you automatically lose any form of attractiveness when you turn into a vain prick, don’t you?” I ask flatly.

  “Who gives a shit when you, Emily Parker, avid hater of man, have just confirmed what I already knew. You’ve blatantly just admitted that you find me attractive. Hey, you can touch ‘em if you want. I promise I won’t bite, well not unless you ask me to.”

  “Piss off and pull yourself together man. You’re blo
ody more on heat than me and when you’ve been sex free for as long as I have, trust me, that’s saying something.” I groan. “Plus, don’t you guy’s kind of sort yourselves out on a daily basis? Morning glory and all that?”

  “Forget what you read in those stupid magazines, Parker. A red blooded male has needs. End of.”

  So do women, the bloody sexist pig. Fortunately for me, I’ve got good old Vinnie to keep me company when I get home. I know, I know. It’s not the same and nowhere near as good as the real thing, but what’s a girl to do? It’s not like I’m running around, batting all that eager and willing man-meat away like the plague is it?

  “Emily listen…” Matt begins, but before I can remove the images of a monstrous cock-fest from my head, I catch a quick glimpse of glossy black hair out of the corner of my eye and inwardly groan.

  “Bloody great. Today just keeps getting better and better.”

  “Oh, for fuck sake,” I swear, turning my head to the offending object and I’m left with no choice but to take in the horrific sight that’s stood before me; tall, slender, basically the body of every man’s bloody dream. It comes complete with fake tits, teeth, and hair. Oh, and not forgetting a mouth like a bloody foghorn. Allow me to introduce you to Cruella de Bitch, also known as Amanda; my boss.

  “Emily, are those contracts all up to date and on my desk?” She squeaks when her evil, soul-destroying black eyes meet mine.

  “Not quite.” I begin and already I can see her demonic powers begin to brew and build up behind her eyes, reminding me of a particular episode of True Blood. “The photocopier’s having another bitch fit and I’ve been trying to fix it all morning too.” I add, even though fixing the company’s dodgy machinery isn’t in my job description. I don’t even know why I’m bothering trying to explain myself to her. That’s not in my job description, either.

  “I see.” She snarls back at me, noticing Matt sitting rather comfortably next to me. “So, is sitting on your backside drinking coffee fixing it? I wouldn’t exactly say that’s being very productive Emily, would you? Is this what you usually get paid to do?”

  “Well, it’s exactly the same thing that you do, but you get paid a hell of a lot more than me,” I mutter. What’s good for the goose is good for the gander and all that jazz.

  “What was that?” Her eyes grow wide, yet her overly enhanced face doesn’t move as she continues to stare me down while waiting for my response.

  “I said I’ll get them to you before three.”

  Ugh, I absolutely despise her. She’s nothing but a daddy’s little princess. You know the kind; spoilt, bratty, bloody drama Llamas. What she wants; she gets, no questions asked, just yes, three bags full.

  It just so happens that Cruella woke up one day and suddenly decided that she wanted to become all business savvy. But then again, who is daddy to disagree, or deny his little princess when she asked if she could take over this place? Thankfully, Graham still checks in from time to time and I’m pretty sure he still has the final say on any business decisions. It’s a bloody good job too, otherwise, we’d all be out of a job and she’d have to kiss goodbye to her multi-million-pound inheritance.

  Everything would be gone. All washed away, including her ridiculously dodgy fake tan and scraggly hair extensions. Actually, maybe that wouldn’t be such a bad thing. Maybe the world would become a better place, aside from me losing my job, of course.

  I guess money can buy you everything except class.

  “I didn’t think she’d be in today. Is this going to be a permanent thing, now?” I throw myself back down into my chair and pout at Matt. I’m not all too sure as to why because it’s not like he can change anything or remove her from the scene, is it?

  “Amanda’s not that bad you know.” He says quietly.

  My head snaps up in shock and I look at Matt, my work husband for all intents and purposes in utter disbelief. “What, because she’s got massive tit’s and somewhere cosy and warm to stick your knob?” I snap back at him. What is this? He’s supposed to be on my side. Team Emily all the way. I’m not asking him to whip out the pom-poms, but a little bit of support would go a long way.

  “You jealous, Parker?” He asks, amusement ringing loud and clear in his voice.

  “Seriously Matthew.” I scoff, completely weirded out by all of this. “Do you even know me? Why would I be jealous of that? She’s nothing but a jobs-worth, who just so happens to resemble one of those cheap and tacky blow-up dolls. Now that my dear friend is fact, not jealousy.”

  “I’m not too sure. You know that much resentment towards someone isn’t healthy.”

  “And what would you know about that?” I laugh, moving my mouse a little to wake up my computer screen. “You’re a bloke.”

  Matt looks at me blankly for a moment and then nods his head. “I guess you’re right.”

  “I’m always right.” I remind him.

  See, now this is why we get on so well. He gets me, well, most of the time anyway and when he doesn’t, the poor bloke isn’t afraid to just nod and agree. It’s bloody perfect. Honestly, he’s perfect husband for life material. But then again, that would just be weird.

  I look over towards the photocopier and groan for what feels like the hundredth time today and I’ve only been here for just over an hour. I guess I better get these contracts finished before Cruella comes waltzing out of her super, duper important office again. I’d really hate to end up being responsible for her accidentally on purpose tripping and falling over, or damaging her precious Louboutins.

  Who knows, with any luck, maybe she’d end up with one wedged right up her fucking arse.

  “You’re not going to believe this. I just know that you’re going to love me for all eternity.”

  “I am?” I question, raising my neglected eyebrows suspiciously at Rachel. I’ve literally just stepped foot inside her café and in under a minute flat she’s already assaulted me. Rugby tackling someone who’s caught completely off guard can be classed as assault, right? She doesn’t seem to care much, because now she’s moved on, busily giving me a bout of vertigo as she jumps up and down like an overly excited little puppy before me.

  “Bloody hell. All I wanted was a quiet break from the office and a bit of lunch.”

  “I think,” she continues, completely oblivious as to whether I’m even listening to her or not, “no, scrap that. I know that I have finally found you a man.”

  “A man?” I reply flatly. “Rachel, what is he, a bloody unicorn or something? I’m sorry to break it to you sweetie, but they don’t exist.” Boys? Yes. Arseholes? Hell, I’ve met plenty of those, but men, actual real men? “They’re nothing but mythical creatures. An Urban Legend, Rach.”

  “Well, I beg to differ.” She happily shrugs me off, waving her hand dismissively in the air. “This one’s really good looking and he seems to have a sense of humour too. But, just wait until you hear the best thing.”

  Oh, there’s a ‘best thing’ too? “Tell me…” I say, eager to please my giddy kipper of a best friend and take advantage of the short pause in conversation by plonking my arse down into one of the seats closest to me.

  “He has a penis.”

  “No shit.” I think to myself, but instead say out loud “he does? How do you know? Have you seen it?” My voice drips with sarcasm and I’m pretty sure my expression mirrors my tone. What the bloody hell has she been on today? It’s like she has a rocket shoved up her arse and I’ve no doubt in my mind that she’d give those Duracell bunnies a good run for their money, too.

  “No, not in the flesh, more’s the pity. But believe me, it was pretty hard to miss the perfectly defined outline of his super large knob in his extremely smart and dapper work pants. It was all rather quite distracting, really.”

  Right well, I guess that makes him bloody perfect then, doesn’t it? One overly sized, perfectly shaped penis for me, please. Yes, having a penis is ideal, pretty much a necessity if you want to help add to the ever growing population, but from m
y past experience that’s one sure sign that he’ll just screw me over in the long run and not in the pleasantly satisfying down and dirty way, either. My current motto in life is: If they’ve got a dick, one day they’ll eventually slip.

  Harsh, maybe? Judgemental? Maybe more so, but it’s the only way that I can protect my now broken and deeply destroyed soul. There’s only one thing that I can rely on these days and that’s Vinnie.

  “Oh Vinnie, at least I have you. You’re always there when I need you and you never let me down. No matter what, you’re always ready and waiting for me. Such a loyal chunk of goodness good old Vinnie is.” I think to myself.

  Ladies, trust me when I tell you that you don’t need any man when you’ve invested in an amazing and fiercely loyal vibrator. With Vinnie waiting for me at home, sometimes I feel like I can take on the whole goddamn world. Well, that’s what I’m telling myself these days, anyway. Forget Horlicks, a little personal pep-talk can do wonders for the soul.

  “Trust me, Emily, you’re going to die a thousand deaths when you see him. Think Chris Hemsworth and Charlie Hunnam combined.”

  My eyes flash up to meet my best friends. She’s been harping on and on, so much that her cheeks are now flushed from all the excitement. “I won’t lie to you, that does sound quite interesting, but I bet he’s still a prick on the inside. Plus, there’s only so much excitement that you can get out of just looking at someone.” However, if it was the Chris Hemsworth then I’d happily stare at him for a lifetime. Maybe stroke him every now and again too. Yep, I’d definitely like to touch him, but can you believe that you can get arrested for that?

  “Stop being so negative about everything. How are you going to meet someone, find your lobster if you don’t get yourself out there?” She asks matter of factly as she sweeps a loose auburn wave from her face.