Pearl nodded, gave a little wave, and walked off toward one of the cubicle offices on the main floor. I watched her go and saw a woman rush up and start talking to her quickly. Pearl smiled, said something, and split off from the woman to disappear behind a fuzzy, carpeted partition.

I scratched my head. Just pretend. As in, I just had to pretend a very real part of me didn’t wish I’d sworn off women, because I was tempted as hell to give that particular one a shot.

And look at me making good decisions. I didn’t chase after her. I didn’t secretly make plans to seduce her now that I had her number in my phone. All I planned to do was put my cock on lockdown like it was 2019 all over again, go upstairs to meet with Pollard Marketing’s CEO in my exercise clothes, and get to work.

Except I pulled out my phone in the elevator and stared at the text I’d sent to myself from her phone. I grinned, then typed out a quick response. After all, wouldn’t it look weird if her “boyfriend” didn’t respond when she texted something so sweet?

I snapped a quick selfie of myself winking and smiling, then typed out my message below it. I grinned as I reread it and thought maybe I shouldn’t, but hey, how many good decisions was a guy expected to be able to make in one day?

4

PEARL

I rubbed my eyes, which still felt thick and dry. My computer screen stared back at me, almost accusingly. Why aren’t you working harder, Pearl? Why isn’t your assignment finished yet, Pearl? Don’t you want that promotion, Pearl?

I wanted to argue with that voice, but arguing with your own internal voices was not healthy behavior. At least that’s what I’d been told.

Of course I wanted the promotion, but my brain felt like a gas station burrito that just did a thirty second tour in a grease-splattered microwave. Molten hot on the outside, but ice cold on the inside. I was all over the place. Yesterday, I stumbled upon what I was now referring to in my own head as “The Crackening, 2022.” I hoped it wouldn’t ever be necessary to clarify to myself which crackening I was referring to, but you could never be too careful.

Anyway, The Crackening, 2022 struck yesterday. Eric was fired, Anabelle was fired, and “Em” who turned out to be “Emilia” from the 11th floor in HR, was fired. Three casualties, two wounded–although Dean, too freaking hot to describe, Slater hadn’t looked particularly down on himself.

I sighed and rubbed my eyes again, even though it wasn’t doing any good. I was supposed to finish this stupid idea from Jonas before I left the office, and my heart wasn’t in it. That was part of the appeal in the promotion thing. One more step up the ladder, and I’d be deciding which direction we went for marketing material and design. No more working on the dumb ideas of my bosses. Instead, I could be the one floating the dumb ideas, as it should be.