Like a damn spreadsheet. I’m not sure how my brother does this every day. This shit is so boring it makes watching glue dry seem entertaining.
Balancing figures and figuring out where we can cut back is my version of hell. Hell sounds better than this. I’m sure in hell, Lucifer throws a wicked party. A list of things I’d rather be doing play in my head: Get a root canal. Wait in line at the DMV. Go shopping on Black Friday. Basically, I’d rather do anything but do this. For fuck’s sake, I’d rather listen to my brother bitch and complain . . . The phone on my desk rings and I pick it up.
“Jax.”
“Gray.”
“How is work?”
Speak of the devil.
The saying, careful what you wish for rings in my head.
“The same as it was two hours ago, and the same as it was two hours before that. Spoiler alert, it will be the same tomorrow as well.”
“I wanted to check-in.”
The thing is, I’m well aware that I hate this job, and I should wave the white flag and admit defeat, but I’m too stubborn and proud to do that, so instead, I pretend.
“I get that, but everything is okay here. I got this,” I say.
“How are things with the—” he starts to say, but I cut him off.
“I said I got this. You don’t need to go on. Everything is okay. You don’t need to come home. Price Enterprise isn’t going to implode,” I huff out.
“It might,” he deadpans.
“I promise you, Gray, and I don’t know how many times I have to say this. I got this shit. Nothing is going to happen.”
“I’m trusting . . .”
“Jeez, Gray. Do you ever fucking stop? After everything I’ve done for you and Addison. Fuck, after everything I’ve done for River. Leave me the fuck alone.”
I hang up the phone before he says another word. As soon as the phone hits the desk, my cell phone vibrates.
“Yes,” I bark out before I even check who it is.
“Down, boy,” Trent says through the line.
“Whatever.” I know I shouldn’t be a dick to him, but I’m annoyed.
“What’s got your panties in a bunch?”
I push my chair back from my desk and swivel it to look out the window. The city is gray today. A heavy fog lingers over it, threatening and ominous. Seems fitting for my mood.
“What do you think?”
“Grayson again?” he asks.
The longer I stare out the window, the more I want to jump up from my desk and stand outside and wait for the rain. Maybe that will cool me off. However, since I can’t do that, I turn back and look at my computer monitor at the damn spreadsheets and close it out.
Fuck it.
I let out a long-drawn-out breath and then answer his question. “As per usual.”
“Why don’t you tell him to fuck off?”
“As a matter of fact, that is exactly what I did.”
“Really?”
“Yep.”
“Wow. I would have liked to hear that. Better yet, I would have liked to be a fly on that wall to see his reaction.”
That makes me chuckle because the visual would actually be amazing.
“What’s going on?” I finally ask, now that my blood has cooled, and I no longer want to kill someone. My fingers tap on my desk, waiting to hear why my friend is calling in the middle of the day.
“Happy hour today. You in?”
Normally, I would say no. But with Gray being a dick and Willow hiding, I can’t think of a reason I shouldn’t say yes.
“Sure. Why the fuck not?”
“Good to hear.”
This is exactly what I need. A big fuck you to my brother. Hell, maybe I won’t even show up for work tomorrow.
This idea holds merit. Fuck. I can’t do that. If I do that, he’ll hire someone, and that could make my life even more hell than it already is. It’s fine, though. I’ll go out, drink, then come to work. He won’t be here, and no one in the office will rat me out if I’m a bit hungover.
“So where to?”
“I’m thinking Chaos.”
“That’s hardly a happy hour spot,” I say.
“Yeah, well, when I said happy hour, I meant let’s fucking go out. It’s been too long, and I need to get laid.”
“So do I,” I groan out. “Fine. I’ll meet you there,” I say before hanging up. I can’t even remember the last time I fucked someone. I’ve been way too busy with work.
And with Willow.
Too bad I can’t fuck her. That would make my life easier. But as much as I want her and find her to be the sexiest woman I’ve ever seen, it’s not going to happen.
She’d never do it. Whatever she’s hiding is big, big enough that she wouldn’t be open to anything with me. If only she would tell me. I’m becoming impatient to find out. If I wasn’t trying to prove I have changed, I’d know already.