Chapter
1 (a) – ‘GRUMPY GOLU’
“Shit,” I mumbled to myself.
I knew the moment I woke up this morning that my day was going to suck. Sitting
in my car, I tried to peer around the huge SUV in front of me. What the hell is
the problem? I had been stuck in the same spot on this forsaken freeway for ten
minutes now.
And that was ten minutes
more than I had.
I looked at the clock again.
Shit.
I sighed and glanced out the
window, my eyes meeting those of the driver next to me. The forty something man
flashed me a creepy smile and mouthed the word ‘nice’, Ew. Why did men have to
be such pigs? I leaned my head back on the seat and let out a long sigh,
thinking back on the debacle that had begun my day.
I had woken to the blaring
sound of My Chemical Romance playing through the speakers of my alarm clock. I
moaned, burying my head in my pillow, and reached over to fumble with the
controls.
But the sound didn’t quiet, it
got louder.
What the hell? I leaned
farther to pull the cord out of the wall, and fell out of bed.
Unfortunately, the clock and
everything else on my nightstand table came tumbling with me.
Oh no! My Blackberry! My now
empty glass of water lay next to my sopping wet phone. Panic started to set in
as I held the dripping phone in my hand. I was dead.
My whole life and Mr.
Kapoor’s entire schedule was in this thing. I took a deep breath, willing
myself to calm down.
Maybe it would dry out and
be fine, I told myself . Yea right. Because water and expensive electronic
devices go so well together.
I silently prayed that I had
remembered to back it up before leaving last night. But after remembering the
day that I had yesterday, I was almost positive I’d forgotten. My boss, Ram
Kapoor, had been in a particularly nasty mood, and had spent the majority of
his day barking out orders and slamming his door.
The man was a first class
jerk. He had taken over for my previous boss nine months earlier, and was just
as big a pig now as he was the day he started. Usually it didn’t bother me, I
hadn’t gotten where I was by having thin skin.
But that day I had been
wearing my brand new Michael Kors dress, a huge shopping splurge and was
feeling particularly good about myself. His tantrum had me ready to hire a hit
man by the time six o’clock came around.
I sighed when I realized
that I would have to spend my lunch hour getting a new phone. Great. I somehow
managed to pull myself out of my internal rambling and get myself ready for the
day. Of course the coffee maker died, and my keys had fallen into the couch
cushion, but somehow, I managed to make it to my car only running a few minutes
behind. That was of course until the accident.
It took almost an hour for
me to finally make it past the wreck that was blocking three lanes of traffic, condensing
the entire freeway down to one. And by the time I made it to the office, I was
officially an hour late.
Normally I would have called, but my phone was still
at home, lying in a pile of water and tear soaked paper towels at the bottom of
my bathroom garbage.
I knew I was going to get
shit for this, even though I prided myself on always being at least fifteen minutes
early for work, and had never been late once. Until today. Just because he was
that much of an jerkface.
Mr. Ram Kapoor. I rolled my
eyes as the name passed through my thoughts; I couldn’t stand the man.
He was the most
self-righteous, pompous jerk I had ever met in my life. I’d listen to all of
the other women in the office whisper and giggle about him because even I had
to admit, he was drop-dead gorgeous. But if you had any common sense, you
realized early in life that beauty is only skin deep, and ugly goes straight to
the bone. I’d had my fair share of unpleasant men in the past few years; dated a
few in high school and college. But this one took the cake.
‘Grumpy Golu’.
“Well, well, Ms. Sharma, and
what time is it in your little world today?” he asked in a condescending tone
as I stepped into the office. He was standing in the doorway of his own office
across the room from me, looking as gorgeous and arrogant as usual. He was
about 6’2”, and had a body like a marble sculpture.
I had made the mistake of
visiting the hotel gym during a convention the first month we worked together,
and walked in to find him sweaty and shirtless next to the treadmill. That
image was forever burned into my brain.
But of course, he had to
ruin it by opening his mouth, “It’s nice to see you finally taking an interest
in your physical fitness, Ms. Sharma.” Scumbag. He had a face that any male
model would kill for and the most incredible hair I’ve ever seen on a man. Sex
hair. That’s what the girl’s downstairs called it, and according to them, it
earned its name.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Kapoor.
There was an accident on the freeway, and I got here as soon as I could. It won’t
happen again, sir,” I said in a polite tone with just a hint of bite, even
though my fingers were practically twitching with the desire to gouge out those
pretty green eyes of his.
“You’re right, it won’t,” he
replied with that cocky smile that made my stomach both turn and leap at the
same time. If only he would keep his mouth shut, he’d be perfect. A piece of
duck tape across the mouth would do the trick and then I wouldn’t mind the daydreams
I would have about us; in the supply room, on his desk, on my desk, sprawled
out on satin sheets…. “And just so you don’t allow this incident to slip your
memory, I want that assignment I put on your desk this morning completed and on
my desk by six. Then you’re going to make up the hour lost this morning making
your presentation in the conference room with me.”
My eyes widened as his voice
broke me out of my now long forgotten thoughts, and I watched him turn away
without another word, slamming his office door behind him. What. A. Pig. He
knew bloody well that a presentable ad campaign could not be done in… I looked
at my watch. Great, seven and a half hours, if I skipped my lunch. I tossed my
purse under my desk and sat down to turn on my computer mumbling under my
breath as I opened the file folder on my desk. Well at least it was a simple
shoe ad, not too hard to think of a tagline for. But still he’d given me an
unrealistic time limit.
Have I mentioned lately that
my boss is a pig?
As everyone else began
filtering out for lunch, I sat at my desk with my coffee and bag of Ritz Bits
I’d grabbed from the vending machine on the way back from the ladies’ room.
Normally I would bring my lunch or leave with the other assistants to grab
something, but time was not on my side today.
Just as I was grumbling
about malnutrition, I heard the outer office door open. Looking up I smiled as
my friend Apeksha walked in. Apeksha had worked for Kapoor Industries almost as
long as I had. She was sweet and kind and one of my favorite people here.
“Ready for lunch, Priya?” she asked, smiling sweetly.
“Apeksha I’m sorry, I know I
promised, but this has been the day from hell. There is absolutely no way I can
make it.” I looked at her apologetically, as her smile turned into a smirk.
“Day from hell, or boss from
hell?” she leaned down and snickered. Apeksha knew all about Ram “the snake” Kapoor.
He was a living legend in this building. No one argued with him if they wanted
to keep their job.
Hell, if I wasn’t so good at
my job, I wouldn’t be able dish back half the shit I did.
“You’ve got the last part
right,” I replied. Blowing my bangs out of my eyes, I let out a big sigh.
“Look I am absolutely
swamped. You guys go on ahead without me.”
“But…” She tried to argue.
“Apeksha, there’s just no
way. Even if I work clear till seven, I still don’t think I’ll be able to get
this finished in time. I really am sorry and I promise to catch you guys next
time.”
“Alright. But don’t you let
that moron boss you around. He’s lucky to have you and he knows it. We all know
who really holds all the cards here, Priya.” Apeksha smiled and left the
office.
This was going to be a long
day. I noticed for the third time in as many hours my thigh highs had started
to slip. I always made it a point to dress impeccably for work. My hair always
started up in a stylish twist, although by the end of the day, my curly hair
was usually fighting its way free. And thanks to my best friend Natasha, my
clothes were fashionable, yet professional. She insisted I was made for the
“hot secretary” look.
So my wardrobe consisted
mostly of pencil skirts and feminine blouses and blazers, simple jewelry and of
course, again thanks to Natasha, the best shoes money could buy. I had always
hated wearing heels, but she had taught me that pricier ones tended to be
better quality and were more comfortable to wear. I hated to admit it, but she
had been right. And my closet was now home to several pairs of sexy designer
shoes. The one thing I hated, were my glasses. I always felt like such a dork
in them. But contacts never worked for me, and I couldn’t read without them.
So Natasha had helped me
pick the perfect pair that in her words “completed the look”.
As I bent under my desk to
try and straighten my hose, I felt someone approach. Not looking up, I spoke,
“Look Apeksha, I told you…” I stopped when I finally glanced up and saw that it
wasn’t Apeksha standing there. My cheeks flushed red and I pulled my skirt back
down over my stockings. “I’m sorry Mr. Kapoor I…” but he cut me off.
“Ms. Sharma, since you
obviously have time to visit with the other office girls as well as completing the
Nike project,” he said as he looked down at me. “I need you to also run down to
accounting and retrieve the profit analysis for the third quarter. Do you think
you can manage that?”
Did he just say office girl?
I sighed heavily and looked down at the heaps of work I still had to do, trying
to reign in my temper, then up to him to meet his blazing green eyes. “With all
due respect, Mr. Kapoor. I am only one person and…”
“It wasn’t a request. That
will be all, Ms. Sharma,” he cut me off, gazing at me for a moment with a clenched
jaw, and then turned on his heel to storm back to his office and slammed the
door once again.
What the hell was his
problem? Did he really feel it necessary to slam doors behind him? I rolled my eyes
and grabbed my blazer from the back of the chair, and began making my way to
accounting.
When I returned, I knocked
on the office door but there was no response. Hmm.
Reaching out I turned the
knob slightly, locked. The jerkface probably stepped out for lunch while leaving
me here to do his footwork. I shoved the manila folder through the mail slot in
his door roughly, hoping the papers scattered everywhere and he had to get down
and sort them himself.
Would serve him right.
Then again, as an
afterthought, I hoped not. Knowing him, he would call me into that hole to do
it while he watched; taking more time from my already impossible project.
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