5. He’s Hot
HE’S HOT
TARA
Honestly, if hangovers last this long, why do people do this to themselves?
I’m so grateful that I took Monday off work, because the hangover from my cocktail binge on Saturday night took two days to fully go away.
Having to be social with everyone in the apartment also didn’t help.
Although at least having them there was a nice distraction from thinking about how I finally had sex and can’t even remember it.
I try not to feel guilty about how I snuck out of Aiden’s room, but he probably wouldn’t have wanted me to hang around, anyway.
A guy that good looking probably has women throwing themselves at him all the time and is well practiced in the art of one-night-stands.
“Alright, I’m off to work,” I say, passing Seth and Kylie in the kitchen on Tuesday morning.
Jake and Bri headed home to Stanthorpe yesterday. They aren’t going on their honeymoon for a few months, and Jake needed to get back to his electrician's business .
“Have a good day, honey. Don’t work too hard,” Kylie calls back with a grin, shutting the fridge with her arms full of food.
It always makes me jealous of how much she can eat without putting on a single kilo, while all I have to do is look at food and my hips expand.
She’s dressed in one of Seth’s Mounties jersey’s and a tiny pair of shorts. She clearly hadn’t bothered to brush her hair, but somehow that just makes her look effortlessly hotter.
Seth nods at me from where he stands in front of the stove, even less chatty than usual when it’s first thing in the morning.
Wearing a white shirt and a pair of athletic shorts, if he wasn’t Canadian, I’d be asking him if he was cold, but Kylie has assured me that this is basically summer weather in Calgary.
“Have a good day, guys.” I let myself out of the apartment and put my headphones on, sighing when I hear Seth’s deep voice say something on the other side of the door and Kylie’s infectious laugh in reply.
Finally getting some time to myself, even if it is just for the twenty minutes to get to work, is just what I need right now. I love my friends, but being constantly surrounded by happy couples can be draining.
Stepping outside my building, I stop and inhale deeply, enjoying the feeling of the Brisbane winter air surrounding me. A slight bite to the air does nothing to take away the beauty of the clear blue sky and the sun beaming down.
I begin my regular walk down to the Brisbane River and cross the bridge from Kangaroo Point into the CBD.
It’s the only exercise I do, despite Kylie trying to get me to join her for so many activities over the years.
I just don’t enjoy exercise like she does.
But walking has long been my go to, and the walk along the river has become a balm for my troubles.
This morning, though, I spend the walk going over my pitch to David about promoting me to take over John’s now vacant role.
I’ve been working there for five years, and for the last two, I was the main contact for all of John’s portfolio while he focussed on his golf handicap, just showing up for the sales pitch and leaving all the actual work to me.
I’ve more than earned this, and David has got to give me a chance. I hope…
I walk into the lobby of the building where our office is and grab a hot chocolate before heading up to the top floor.
“Hey Tara. How was the wedding?” Celeste, our receptionist, asks when I nod to her.
“It was good. How was your weekend?” I ask, stopping next to her desk, and she launches into a detailed description of the busy weekend she had with her boyfriend, which included multiple nightclubs and liquid lunches.
She’s a lovely girl, but at almost ten years younger than me, conversations with her always make me feel old.
“Have you seen the new broker yet? He’s hot.” Celeste’s voice drops to a dramatic whisper.
“Um, no? I didn’t realise we were getting a new broker. What department are they in?” I ask, silently praying she doesn’t say mine.
“He’s taking John’s job. He’s David’s son.”
Fan-fucking-tastic.
I didn’t even have an opportunity to interview for the role. Probably wasn’t even considered an option.
My anger must show on my face, cause Celeste sits back, her expression wary. “Didn’t you know?”
“Nope,” I reply, taking a mouthful of my drink and willing myself to get my emotions in check before I meet the son of the boss. “Is he in yet?”
“He just arrived a few minutes ago. I can’t believe David didn’t tell you.” Celeste’s eyes are wide, and I’m sure within minutes of me heading to my desk, she’ll be straight into the other side of the office to gossip about it with the admin staff.
Determined not to give any of the mean girls in the admin team ammunition, I paste on a smile and shrug. “Guess it slipped his mind. I better go introduce myself. See you later.”
I head towards my desk and resist the urge to slam my bag down.
Taking a fortifying breath, I look over at John’s old office.
The blinds on the internal glass wall are open, and I can see a man standing with his back to me, looking out the window.
Despite my disappointment at the situation, I can’t help but notice how well he fills out the suit. From behind anyway.
Then I mentally kick myself. No, Tara, do not check out the boss’s son’s butt. We hate him, remember?
I sit down and get my laptop out of my bag, connecting it to the multiple screens on my desk. Firing it up, I get to work opening all the programs I’ll need for the day. The amount of programs it takes to do this job is a little ridiculous, but I’m old hat at all of this now.
My phone rings just as I’m connecting my ear piece, and I look down, recognising the number of one of John’s biggest clients.
“Good morning Dayna, how are you?” I answer, knowing that the personal touch is the key to this woman’s heart.
“Oh Tara, darling, it’s been a horrible night. We had a break in at the Paddington location, and they’ve taken all the equipment. I’ve spent the last hour calling patients to cancel appointments, but we’re booked for weeks. I need this sorted ASAP.”
I start taking notes, asking all the usual questions and assure her that I will get the claim lodged immediately. She hangs up, and I sigh.
This is why I should have that job. I know the clients, and they all trust me. Instead, I’m doomed to continue being nothing more than the assistant broker.
Grabbing my left over dinner from my handbag, I head towards the lunchroom. I’m searching for a free space in the fridge when I’m startled by voices on the other side of the open fridge door .
“I can’t believe David didn’t even tell her,” Felicity, one of the senior admin staff, says.
“Well, it’s not like she was going to get the role. As if he’d put her in front of clients. She isn’t exactly ‘client facing’ material. I mean, you’ve seen her wardrobe.” I recognise Amber’s voice.
I look down at my black pants and loose-fitting white business shirt while I ignore the sting behind their words. They are two of the worst instigators in the admin team, who thrive on drama.
Oh, and they are massive bitches.
I slam the fridge door, giving them the fakest smile possible while they both stare at me. I don’t bother to say anything before brushing past them both, ignoring the laughter once I’ve exited the room.
I head to the bathroom and lock myself in the closest stall, willing myself not to cry.
Between the catty conversation and the bitterness of disappointment, my emotions are fighting to take over, and I need to pull it together.
This is not the type of office where it’s safe to cry in the bathroom.
The piranhas in the admin team will circle and use it to bring me down.
The bullying in this place has definitely gotten worse in the last few months, and David does nothing about it.
He’s too afraid of the women that run this place.
I had stayed off their radar mostly, but if I’m found crying in here, it would provide ammunition that they would gladly lob straight at me.
Why am I still working here?
Forcing myself to take a deep breath, I head back out and splash water on my face at the sink before remembering I’d actually put make up on this morning.
Thankfully, there’s no serious damage done, and I thank the gods for waterproof mascara.
The must have accessory of all women working in this industry when surrounded by men who refuse to see their potential.
Leaving the bathroom, I bypass my desk and head to the door of John’s office. Well, I guess it’s no longer John’s office. I realise now that I don’t even know this guy’s name.
Knocking, I watch as he jumps and whirls around. And then we both freeze, staring at each other.
Neither of us moves for the longest time, each of us apparently lost for words.
“Tara?” His eyes are wide.
I swallow hard. “Aiden.”