RC.

Ch8 .. B

This morning I'm totally hungover! I slept like a log but the awakening was painful.

Last night's events slap me in the face. Ryan's lie, our quarrel, and the romantic sequence in Jake's arms.

I remember that Jake brought me back last night, that I served a few glasses of whisky, but I can't remember the rest of the evening.

I hope I wasn't too ridiculous. All I'd need is for me to have displayed my states of mind!

Or worse, that I told him some intimate stuff with Ryan! ...

(I rather not think about it.)

I think the best thing to do is not to think about it. I've enough to deal with as it is with Ryan ...

I scroll my e-mails for the twelfth time, my eyes are as expressive as a scallop's.

I switch between my facebook and my mail box, so as to read stupid articles and their equally stupid comments.

It's been an hour now that I've been totally inefficient. If Cassidy saw me, she'd tear her hair out!

I laugh half-heartedly when imagining the scene. My hand is supporting my head otherwise, it would already have collapsed onto my desk.

Not to mention that I have a horrible migraine!

I close my eyes and gently massage my temples. Sometimes it works. Sometimes...

(I'll take pill.)

I swallow a paracetamol with a large glass of water. Last try at saving myself!

All of a sudden, a familiar little beep catches my attention. An e-mail from Carter! My heart leaps.

How can I put it? He's really the last person I'd want to hear from today!

I'm forgetting one little detail: I do work for him!

What am I supposed to say?

(Stay professional.)

Something like, "We had a lot of fun, both of us. You got what you wanted, now let's get back to work as if nothing had happened"?

I sigh heavily, taking my head in my hands.

T:"Shit!"

Let's face it. Our professional relationship seems largely compromised.

I can't see myself facing him, now that we've said all these things. Now that I know the truth about him, that I know what I represent for him.

I nervously unfold the contents of his message: "Hello, I want to see you in my office this morning, 10:30. R."

(His message surprise and irritates me.)

I'm surprised. He doesn't say a thing about last night. I was already thinking he'd fire me in due form.

I type my answer, an acid smile on my lips: "I'll be in your office on time, sir."

(Don't worry Ryan, it's not because you treated me as if I were less than nothing that I'm going to lack professionalism.)

At the thought of his bachelor pad, my heart tightens. Thinking back to our frolics in his office, my heart feel compressed as if it were in a vice.

All his beautiful attentions: the restaurant, the beach ... It was all show, hot air! I can hardly believe it.

(I still have hope.)

Yet I still have hope that it's all not so simple. Who knows, maybe he'll declare his undying love and beg me to forgive him ...?

Still truth can be cruel and I'll have to get used to it. Passionate reconciliations in the rain are only in films. In reality, when you break up in the rain, you freeze your ass off!

I shake my head.

The easiest way would be to resign. At least I'd stop torturing myself by having to see him all the time. I'd no longer have to face this dream that went up in smoke.

But I don't want to give him the pleasure. I don't want to make his life any easier!

After all, the job he offered me is a golden opportunity. No way am I going to miss out on a good career just because he couldn't keep it in his pants!

And staying is the best way to make him angry and make him pay!

All of sudden, I think back to Nancy Meyers. Did he do the same thing to her? Is that why she left?

I'll never know, but the question leaves a bitter taste in my mouth ...