Chapter 3
Serena
Groaning as the sound of my phone ringing interrupts the peaceful morning, it’s not a noise that I particularly want to hear at this moment in time, but I feel obligated to answer regardless.
Working for the temp agency gives me steady-ish work, but I wasn’t supposed to be in today.
I was looking forward to a morning in bed, with food and movies.
The rain is a soft pitter-patter against the window, which makes this even more of a duvet day.
“Guess you found me something. Fuckers.”
Pausing, I seriously consider not answering, but I live hand-to-mouth as it is, probably working on average three days a week, sometimes less. Here, there and everywhere. If the agency has something for me, I need to drag my ass out of bed and go earn some money.
Turning over in my soft double bed, my long blonde hair flicking into my face, the soft blankets wrap around me and keep me warm despite the cold and rainy weather outside. Allowing my eyes to adjust to the light, and when I'm able to focus on my phone, I see that it's my uncle calling.
My parents.
Sitting upright, I grip the phone tightly, my heart pounding at the impending bad news I fear is about to be imparted upon me.
“Uncle Q. What’s wrong?”
He chuckles. “Nothing, Reenie. Everyone is fine.”
Scrunching up my nose, relieved but curious, I ask, “Why are you calling me at this godforsaken hour then?”
“It’s eight-thirty,” he points out as if it’s lunchtime.
“Yeah, and?”
“I have a job for you.”
“Oh? Where? When? I’m free next week.” I cringe at the lie. I’m free now; I just quite like it in my bed.
“No, this is a permanent position, Reenie. Your mother is concerned about this temping situation. She wants you to settle down and have a proper job.”
Grimacing, I clench my jaw. This is a bone of contention between my mother and me.
She expects that at twenty-five, I should be settled into a career and thinking about finding a husband who accepts that I won’t give up my job to look after babies and shit.
I mean, why bother with all that when I’m happy on my own with no one to tell me what I can and can’t do?
Isn’t all that are what my thirties are for?
“I’m good, but thanks.”
“Reenie, I’ve sorted out a position for you at Carter & Jeffers. It’s admin for the founding partner, Logan Carter. It’s full time, has benefits, and you can use it as a launching pad for a legal career further down the line.”
His offer is met with a stony silence.
“Reenie?”
“Yeah, I'm here, but I didn’t ask for this.”
“I know, but your mother was bending my ear, love. Just go, hmm? You start tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?” I frown. Tomorrow is Friday.
“Yes, tomorrow. Eight-thirty sharp. Cannon street in the city. You can’t miss it.”
“Eight-thirty?” Most of my temp jobs start at nine.
Ugh. This is going from bad to worse. “Look, Uncle Q. I seriously appreciate this, but I’m not ‘founding partner’ material.
He probably wants me to do all sorts of things that I can’t.
I can do basic admin, file a bit and get coffee, maybe do some payroll if there are like three employees.
” This is some high-level admin job he’s put me forward for, and I’m certain I’m not up for it.
I know my limitations. My resumé doesn’t lie.
“Logan won’t expect you to do anything fancy, like payroll. Just do what he tells you and be a bit proactive. It’s like any other job you’ve been on.”
His cajoling tone doesn’t convince me.
Chewing the inside of my lip, I deliberate, knowing I should take it, but I wasn’t looking for a full-time job. This has been thrust at me without any time to think about it.
“Fine,” I huff eventually, knowing I sound like an ungrateful brat. “Thank you for doing this,” I add stiffly to compensate for the mood.
He chuckles again. “Eighty-thirty sharp. Have fun!”
“Yeah, yeah.”
We hang up, and I throw the phone onto my bed. “Well, old friend, I guess I won’t be seeing you as much as we’re both used to.”
I'm warm and cozy, and I don't want to leave the comfort of my bed.
Flopping back, I close my eyes, relishing the peace and quiet.
Not moving for several minutes, I eventually force myself to get out of bed and face the day.
Taking a deep breath, I open the curtains, watching as the rain spills down outside, the morning light gloomy and drab.
Staring out my window, the outskirts of the city stretches out before me, a vast expanse of gray and silver mixed with a bright and colorful blur of life.
It looks so different in the rain, the soft drumbeat of droplets against the glass adding a layer of tranquility to the hustle and bustle outside.
The rain is heavy, cascading down onto the street below with a satisfying rhythm, the sound of life being watered into the concrete streets. The occasional car passes by, buses trundling along as they crawl through the wet roads.
Turning away from the window, I stroll through the apartment I've called home for the past few months. It’s not much to look at.
It’s in the low-rent, back end of the city, away from the luxurious penthouses by the river, but I’ve made it as comfortable and cozy as I can with its one-bedroom and small bathroom, a sitting area, and an open-plan kitchen.
The hallway is short and narrow, leading to the front door, jumbled with coats and shoes, but it's all I need. Deciding to get some breakfast first, I head to the kitchen, determined to do a spot of research before this fancy job tomorrow. I want to know exactly who this Logan Carter guy is, so I can try to figure out who I will be dealing with. Obnoxious, rich, and an asshole who thinks he has a giant dick and does, or an obnoxious, rich asshole who thinks he has a giant dick and doesn’t.
In my limited experience, the one with the giant dick is less of a jerk.
But I guess time will tell.