6. Chelsi
CHAPTER SIX
chelsi
Two days. That’s all the time I allowed myself to mope over the stupid fucking asshole, Logan, and his micropeen.
Okay. Fine. It was technically an average size, but he still sucked at going down on me.
Ugh. Why am I a homing beacon for the shittiest men in the world? Is there some secret red-flag message board in Chicago permanently showing my location so they can find me?
I groan, forcing myself to get up from the couch where I’ve lounged all day. It’s time for sustenance in the form of takeout. Surviving on wine, cheese, and crackers is fine for a couple of days, but I’ve already eaten my weight in Parmesan, so it’s time for real food.
God, I wish Kate were here. I’d do anything to talk to my best friend and lament about my horrific dating life.
I’ve avoided calling her this weekend. She’s still on her honeymoon, and I don’t want to disrupt their happiness with my drama.
They’ve had enough to deal with to last anyone a lifetime and deserve peace and quiet.
Plus, who wouldn’t love two weeks in Tahiti?
They’re probably fucking on the beach as we speak. Blissfully ignoring the outside world and basking in the glow of true love.
Although I’m happy for her, I’m beginning to think finding someone to spend my life with is a fool’s errand. Maybe I’m not meant to be coupled up. Destined to be alone forever.
Thank God for my extensive collection of vibrators. Might as well add a few more, because it’ll be a cold day in hell before I hop into bed with another man.
After grabbing my phone off the coffee table, I decide my food needs are going to have to take a backseat to my future sexual pleasure and head to my favorite sex toy brand’s website.
Without much thought, I start adding every clitoral stimulator, G-spot vibrator, and dildo I don’t already have to my cart, choosing to ignore looking at the final total before checking out.
Will I regret this purchase when it hits my credit card bill? Probably.
Do I care? Absolutely not.
At least I can give myself a daily orgasm or two to make up for my shitty luck with men.
Squeezing my eyes shut, I inhale and exhale deeply, trying to loosen the growing tightness in my chest. A breakup has never impacted me like this before.
I’ve always been able to quickly get over the guys I’ve dated and move on without looking back.
But this one is different. I wasn’t in love with Logan, but our relationship gave me an inkling of hope.
It was the first time I allowed myself to really consider the possibility of having a life partner.
Someone who was more than just a good time and wanted to build a future with me. Or so I thought.
Kate and Anna’s encouragement about Logan probably didn’t help the situation.
Their belief that Logan could have long-term potential definitely carried a lot of weight in my mind.
Plus, Anna’s insistence that love blooms at weddings was icing on the cake.
I may have walked into Hawaii with a boyfriend, but I left thinking Logan could become so much more. Talk about being epically wrong.
I collapse back on the couch and absentmindedly scroll through one of my favorite takeout apps, placing an order for way too much food and convincing myself it’ll be leftovers for the week when in reality I’ll devour most of it tonight.
It’s time to refocus. Throw myself into my work and stop believing men can make my life better when all they’ve shown so far is their ability to give me an occasional orgasm and a shit ton of unwanted drama.
I shake my head, erasing every negative thought from my mind and choosing to remember I’m a badass.
There’s so much more I could be doing to grow the company’s brand if I put in more time and effort.
Stop leaving the office to meet people for drinks and burn the midnight oil instead.
It’s not the life I envisioned, but perhaps it’s time to enter my work era.
Countless ideas for how I can improve the company’s reach start popping into my head, each one out of the box and designed to make a splash. Exactly what the CEO hired me to do. Get people constantly talking about our technology and using it.
I let the ideas flow for twenty minutes until my food arrives, forcing me to get off the couch.
After a quick stop in the kitchen for a bottle of wine, I set myself up like I’ve seen Kate do countless times.
My computer is perched on my lap while I eat a bowl of shrimp linguine and drink a glass of rosé.
In less than two hours, I’ve mapped out an entire PR strategy for the next three months with multiple major campaigns. It’s going to be a ton of work, but I’m up for it.
I set my laptop on the coffee table and pour myself one more big glass of wine.
“Here’s to life without men. Fuck them all,” I say out loud and then chug it.
A new era starts now.
No more men.
No more drama.
For the next two weeks, it’s been nothing but work, work, and more work.
As soon as I sent my aggressive strategy, fueled by my post-breakup rage, to my boss, Maddox, he immediately approved it and made it clear he expected the rest of the executive team to support my efforts.
Tackling this balls-to-walls approach is far from easy, but the early signs are extremely promising.
Not to mention, I’ve successfully gone this entire time without a single evening out.
No dates. No drinks with friends. No social dinners.
Just me, work, and my trusty collection of vibrators.
It honestly makes me wonder why I thought I needed a man, considering I’m able to make myself come way faster and harder than any guy ever could.
A smile splits my face while I quickly walk the last block to the office, grateful for the crisp spring air hitting me as the thoughts of last night’s toe-curling orgasm cause my temperature to rise.
Definitely don’t regret the hundreds of dollars I spent on my new toys after that dipshit dumped me.
Every single one of them has brought me more pleasure than Logan ever did.
When I reach my office, I drop my bag on the desk and quickly get settled for the day.
My schedule is jam-packed with meetings, starting with our weekly executive team session.
Oddly enough, Maddox’s assistant hasn’t sent out an agenda yet, making it impossible to know what we’re going to be discussing or how I can best prepare.
He’s usually big on giving everyone time to digest new information before jumping into brainstorming, understanding that not everyone can quickly generate ideas on the spot.
Perhaps this means we’re only going over the results from last month.
It’s not like anyone has the capacity to take on new projects.
My initiatives alone are running the company ragged.
Working for Maddox is unlike any other professional experience I’ve had.
He’s an eccentric billionaire CEO who founded the company with an impressive résumé of successful past exits, even though he’s in his early thirties.
He’s the sole reason why I’m working here.
Why I made the rash decision to leave my stable career in finance to test the waters in tech without a lick of experience in the industry or PR.
Three years later, it is still one of the best decisions I’ve ever made.
Sure, there are days when the monotony of sharing the same talking points over and over makes me want to poke out my eyeballs, but at least I’m not in spreadsheet hell anymore.
Plus, it’s not like chasing my dreams of working in fashion is in the cards.
Society is extremely forgiving when someone makes a radical career shift in their twenties, not so much when you’re in your mid-thirties.
Instead, I’m supposed to be focused on job security, not pursuing my passions.
That’s why fashion will always be a hobby for me, not a career.
Once I’ve gathered my laptop, notebook, and the extra-large coffee that I picked up on my walk, I stroll to the conference room and take a seat.
As expected, our chief product officer, Ron, glares in my direction as soon as he walks into the room.
He’s been pissed about his team’s increased workload related to the initiatives I’m spearheading.
The email I sent last night, asking for an update about a mission-critical piece of the next phase of our strategy, probably didn’t help the situation.
A good girl would let Ron stew in his frustration. But that’s not who I am.
“Good morning, Ron,” I say in the sweetest voice possible, unable to resist poking the bear. “Did you have a chance to review my email?”
Ron stares at me, probably wishing his eyes were lasers that could burn a hole through me. “Yes, I saw your email,” he snaps.
The temperature in the room drops a few degrees, thanks to his chilly response. He doesn’t seem to care that others have noticed. We may still be waiting for Maddox, but the rest of the executive team is already here. None of them appears pleased with how Ron is responding to an innocent question.
Unwilling to put up with his shitty response, I plaster on my biggest fake smile. “Let me know when you’re able to set up a time to meet. I’m happy to rearrange my calendar if needed.”
Ron lets out an actual growl. It’s low, but everyone hears it.
I shake my head, choosing to stop poking Ron anymore. God knows how he’s going to respond.
All of us, excluding Ron, make idle chit-chat until Maddox walks into the room. He’s an Adonis in glasses and chiseled in all the right places. How this man finds time to exercise when he’s working more than eighty hours a week is beyond me. Time must work differently when you’re uber wealthy.
Maddox paces in front of the room, occasionally tugging at his wavy brown hair.
He doesn’t say a word as he walks back and forth in the small space.
Every footstep increases my anxiety because this behavior is so unlike him.
The tension in the room begins to grow as everyone appears to be holding their breath, waiting for Maddox to put us out of our misery and share whatever has him so worked up.
He exhales deeply, stuffing his hands into his pockets before turning to look at the conference room table we’re all sitting around.
“This isn’t how I wanted to tell you this news, but there’s never a good way to do it.
” He drags a hand down his face, covering his mouth for a few seconds before releasing it.
“I could give you a long speech on what led to this decision, but I don’t think it really matters because the outcome will still be the same.
Effective at the end of today, we’re shutting down. Permanently.”
Excuse me? What did he just say?
He couldn’t mean… That doesn’t make any sense.
“Wait a second,” Ron stammers, his face filled with obvious anger. “What do you mean we’re shutting down?”
Everyone glances around the table, trying to ascertain whether any of us knows what’s going on, but based on the looks of confusion, we’re all clueless.
“The company is finished. I thought I’d made that obvious. All of you put in a good effort, and I’m happy to help you find your next role.”
Our chief financial officer, Ken, stands up, placing his hands on the glass conference table.
“I’m confused. We have plenty of money in the bank for the rest of the quarter and beyond.
Our sales pipeline is getting stronger. Chelsi’s new strategy to drum up interest in the business is going great. Why the hell are you doing this?”
Maddox pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs.
“On paper, things look fine, but it only tells one piece of the story. The reality is, I’ve done this enough times to know when you have to cut bait, and this is one of them.
We could spend years growing slowly, but that’s not why any of us are here.
It’s sure as hell not what I want to build, nor do our shareholders.
It’s better for everyone if we wind down the business, give the investors back some of their money, and move on to more profitable pastures. ”
My mouth drops open. He’s shutting down the business because it won’t make him and other rich people even richer long-term.
This can’t be happening.
I have to be experiencing some type of nightmare. Everything will be fine when I wake up.
“I know this isn’t the news any of you were expecting, but it is what it is.
My lawyers will email you all your severance agreements.
I’ve engaged an outside firm to handle the wind-down operations, so you’re free to go once you’ve communicated the news to your direct reports and cleared out your desks. ”
He takes a final look at us, gives a solemn nod, and then leaves the room.
It’s so quiet you could hear a pin drop. No one dares to say a word or make a move for almost five full minutes as we all try to process what happened and what we do next. One by one, people start exiting the room to share the news with their teams until I’m the only one left.
I know I should get up and start picking up my office, but I am unable to move. It’s almost like my feet are stuck in concrete, forcing me to stay in this one spot.
I’m unemployed.
Newly single.
And utterly alone.