Be My One Regret

be my 1 regret / 16

~now~

ROSES ARE RED, VIOLETS ARE BLUE....and all that effin jazz.....

Monday mornings are a bitch. At least for most people they are. And with the way this particular Monday was hating me, the feeling was mutual with the majority. Everything was going south since my alarm never went off. Chaos proceeded with a lukewarm shower because Cleo had used all the hot water, damn her, followed by a rip in my favorite soft gray pencil skirt, also a Cleo mishap, damn me, for borrowing clothes. Never again. 

But if that wasn't enough, my Monday was throwing in the lack of caffeine from a broken Keurig, a growling stomach because of inedible burnt toast that I tossed into the garbage, and a Uber from hell driver because it was his first time in the city and he didn't know the best routes thru rush hour. Yep. I was late for work. Monday was kicking my ass, and my mood was far from cheery for the bitch slap.

So when snickers and wide eyes greet me the second I step off the elevator onto the tenth floor for Bold and Blaze, my cranky meter elevates. It climbs up another notch as several more giggles and stares follow me as I walk the open corridor. And not surprisingly the agitation builds, ugly and fast, as I stomp towards my office. The whispers annoy hinting heavily that I was obviously missing out on the inside joke of the day. Or that I may be the very star of the office leers and jeers.

Case in point, the head bob in my direction by one of the other interns grinning ear to ear and giving me a thumbs up. "Gonna be a great day, huh, Ophelia?"

Resting my hand on the handle of my office door, I look at him dumbfounded. "If you say so." Then roll my eyes as I turn the knob. Snickers pop repeatedly over my shoulder as I swing my door open. My eyes widen, and I nearly drop my phone and satchel as I discover the reason for everyone's amusement. Irritation blows the lid off the remainder of my Monday morning sanity and before I can think it through, I scream.

"What the hell?!"

The expletive sets off the snickers behind me into fits of boisterous laughter. Hyena style. And I growl a curse or three hundred and chuck my stuff to the floor. I plant my hands on my hips and glare at the atrocity in front of me.

Balloons. Every color. Every shape. Scattered and dangling every where. Filling the expanse of my office. My desk lost in the thick of it somewhere. There was not one inch spared. Helium and latex abounded. Teasing. Toying. Purposefully. Like a very well played evil plan. I huff kicking a few balloons.

Because it sure as shit wasn't my birthday. Nope. This has one asshole's name written all over it. Gawd! I just want to choke the life out of him. If only he were here....

Driving my spiky heels into more balloons, I wade thru the obnoxiousness until I reach my desk. I clench my jaw and shove balloons off my desk searching for my office phone. Several pop as they fall to the floor. I jump hissing a new round of curses threatening heavier with each irritated breath. And it was then that I decided that there was only one thing to do that would make my Monday from hell better.

Because if that's how he wanted to play then revenge it was. Oh hell yeah.

Heart pounding from another balloon pop behind me, I yank the phone from the desk. I stab my pointer finger into the keypad. I twist the cord around my other fingers while it rings. Huffing. Growling. Kicking balloons. Counting and considering the cruelty options spinning thru my fuming mind.

"Townsend Jones. This is Mary. How can I direct your call?"

The canary chirp of the receptionist pushes my annoyance a little more over the edge. I hiss. "Tucker Jones. Now."