Confessions Of A Klutz: Confessions Series #1 Page 11

  He needs to go. Cats are not my thang. There’s only room for one pussy in this apartment.

  Reaching my arms out, I move closer to him, preparing to remove him when he leaps up and hisses at me.

  My hand flies to my chest, my heart beating wildly as I stumble back. What the fracking hell?! “Okay, okay! Jeez!” I plactate, my hands out in front of me to try and calm him down. “You can stay… for now.”

  The pinging of my cell sounds from my pocket, distracting me from the intruder. I pull it out, clicking on the message app without looking away from the creature who’s shooting fire at me out of his tiny little eyes—I don’t trust him one bit.

  Snapping my attention to my cell, I don’t read all of the messages El has sent, instead I shoot off a quick reply telling her I’m home and I’ll call her tomorrow.

  “I’m going to bed,” I tell my new housemate after locking my cell. I point at him in warning. “I want you gone in the morning.” He settles back down, stretching his body out and closing his eyes. “Well, night then.”

  I shake my head at myself and the fact I know deep down I won’t make him leave. I’m a pushover, what can I say.

  * * *

  Running my hand down my skirt-covered thigh, I shuffle on the spot as I wait for the elevator doors to open. My stomach churns but I’m not sure whether it’s from nerves or the breakfast burrito I ate this morning on the way here. Goddamn cat stalking me and making me give him my breakfast!

  It dips again when the doors open, almost like I’m on a roller coaster—definitely nerves.

  Smiling politely at the other people inside, I push my way in, slipping between a middle-aged man who sneers as I knock his briefcase and an older woman who smiles politely.

  I thought the feeling I had yesterday was because I’d just landed, but when I left my apartment this morning it was tenfold. L.A. doesn’t feel like home at all now. They say it’s the people who make a home, not the place. Maybe that’s what it is?

  I felt at home in New York, but it wasn’t because of the place, it was definitely the people. It was Ella—and maaaaybe Axel too.

  Were those three weeks really only a fling? Did they mean something?

  It’s not like I’m sitting here saying I love the guy, but maybe I’m in lust with him?

  Shit, I swore to myself I’d never let this happen. I’m an independent woman, dammit. I don’t need a man for anything—not even orgasms. I can put up a shelf as well as any dude, and don’t get me started on my hammering skills.

  As soon as the doors swoosh open, I’m staring at the big silver letters of “Taylor Industries.” Why does seeing his name on the wall make me feel like I’m going to turn the corner and see his face? Gosh darn it! Now I’m feeling all discombobulated. I blame Aunt Flow who decided to make an appearance this morning. It’s all her fault. She’s the reason I’m a big fat baby right now. Someone give me a giant bar of chocolate, pleeease!

  “Are you getting out?” the man with the briefcase grunts.

  “Oh, yeah.”

  Stumbling forward, I keep my attention on his name as the doors shut behind me.

  I didn’t expect Axel to want to marry me, but jeez, he hasn’t even messaged to see if I had a safe flight. For all he knows I could be stranded on a mountain like Kate Winslet in her new movie with that sexy-ass guy.

  A smile works its way on my lips; I could be with a sexy man right now—great, now Axel’s face is in my mind!

  “Violet Scott?”

  I whip my head around, frowning at the young woman I’ve never seen before.

  “That’s me,” I confirm with a nod.

  “Della wants to see you.”

  I frown, completely confused. Why does she want to—ohhhh, the call while I was in New York. “Oh.” I take a step toward the part of the floor my station is in but this whippet of a woman steps in my way. I raise my brows, looking at her like she’s insane. “I’m just going to set my stuff at my station.”

  Her lips flatten into a thin line, something flashing in her eyes as she tilts her head toward Della’s office. “Della’s a very busy woman, she asked to see you right away.”

  I stare at her for a beat, trying to decipher anything I can from her expression but she shutters it down. These last two days have been a constant cause of confusion.

  I follow her, taking note of the new desk sitting outside Della’s office. The woman takes a seat there, picks up the handset on the desk and talks into it. I stand awkwardly, clutching my purse as I watch her. She can’t be more than twenty and looks to be well out of her element, but the way she sits up straight—I mimic the action, no slouching here! No siree!—tells me she doesn’t mess around. That and the desk organization she has going on.

  My station outside Axel’s office was never this tidy. I had little knickknacks on it and Post-it notes stuck everywhere to remind me of things I needed to do. It may not have been like this woman’s, but it was my own kind of system.

  “You may go in now.”

  I startle at the sound of her voice, making a little noise in the back of my throat before pushing my shoulders back and stepping toward the door. Taking a deep breath, I push it open, being blasted by a stone-faced Della, her dark-green eyes flashing as her gaze scans me from head to toe. One thought comes to mind—she doesn’t look happy at all.

  “Hi,” I whisper. Where the hell has my voice gone?

  “Miss Scott.” She waves her hand to the seat opposite her desk. “Take a seat.”

  I do as she says, crossing my ankles and uncrossing them as she stays silent and types away on her keyboard.

  She finally looks up, her eyes narrowing before she pastes a smile on her lips. “How was New York?”

  “It was… good?” I bite my bottom lip. It was more than good; fantastic, amazing, orgasmic—literally.

  “Excellent.” She nods before pausing, leaning forward and steepling her hands on the desk. “Do you have anything to report?”

  “Report?” I ask, confused—yet again.

  “Yes. I want to know how the New York office is doing… and of course Axel.” Axel? I stare at her, my brows drawing down. She seems to read my expression because she expands, “Axel and I met in college.” There’s something in the depths of her eyes telling me she’s trying to say more than she’s vocalizing. “How is he?”

  “Sleep with a girl your senior year and more than a decade later she’s still trying to get back at me.” Axel’s voice sounds in my head and it clicks: they slept together! Ewwww. Fucking… ewwww.

  “Erm… he’s okay?”

  She blows out an audible breath before looking out the window. “I bet he’s running around sleeping with anything with a vagina, huh?” She laughs but it’s brash, uncontrolled, so much unlike the boss I know.

  Wait a minute… is she hung up on Axel?

  She fiddles with the sleeve of her blouse, pulling on it before running her fingers through her hair. Holy shit. She is.

  My eyes widen at the revelation. This doesn’t bode well for me at all.

  “I erm… ah… I didn’t see him with any women.” I’m not lying, I really didn’t… because the woman was me! Crapstickles.

  Her head whips around, her eyes flashing with a warning. “I don’t care if he is with women.” She waves her hand through the air but I can clearly see she’s lying. “I want to know if the New York office is running smoothly. The clients, are they satisfied?”

  “I mean… I guess so?” I shrug. “I was only PA’ing so…”

  She rolls her eyes. “Well you’ve been of no use. You should always keep your ear to the ground, Miss Scoot—”

  “It’s Scott,” I interrupt.

  “Sure, sure.” She turns her attention back to her computer. “You can go.”

  I sit still for a second, wondering what the hell happened just now. Did she send me there to spy on him and the company? Is that why she really wanted me to go? Because she thought I’d bring back all the gossip?

  S
hit. This woman is bonkers.

  * * *

  My pen scratches the surface of the paper, my mind somewhere else completely. I don’t know how long I’ve been sitting at my desk, I don’t even know what I’m drawing until I lean back in my chair and put the pen down, stretching my fingers out.

  Looking up, I notice everyone’s attention on something behind me, and when I turn around, I see a red-faced Della being followed by a grinning Elliot.

  Someone is on their shit list.

  I turn back around, closing my notebook and moving my mouse to bring my screen to life when a hand slaps a pile of papers on my desk.

  My gaze tracks the hand on top of them, up an arm, and finally to Della’s face.

  Her eyes stay fixated on mine, her lips lifting up into a sneer.

  I look at Elliot, trying to gage what’s happening but he gives nothing away until Della says, “The contract you signed when you were employed.” I look down at it again wondering why she’s slapped it on my desk. She stands up straight, crossing her arms over her chest. “Read section four point eight.”

  I tentatively reach for it. “Why?” She raises a brow, not answering me so I blow out a breath and pick them up, finding section four and reading it from start to finish. “I don’t understand.”

  “Of course you don’t,” she huffs, picking up the papers and reading, “Work relations are prohibited. In any instance this happens, the guilty parties’ contracts will be terminated. Effective immediately. Upon signing this contract, you agree to these terms.”

  “Okaaay…”

  “You broke the contract.”

  My cheeks heat as she stares at me knowingly. Fuck. She knows I did the feather bed jig with Axel.

  “Obviously we can’t fire both of you.” She looks around, making sure everyone’s attention is on her before raising her voice. “On account of the other party being your boss and the CEO of this company… but you? I can fire you.”

  “What?” I whisper. “I…”

  “Don’t try and play me, little girl,” she practically growls, leaning down and getting in my face. “You think I don’t have my spies in New York? I suspected something yesterday when you were cagey about Axel.” Her eyes flash. “But now I know for sure. I know where you were for Christmas. I know what you did with Axel. I know it all.”

  “No, you—”

  “He told me.” I reel back, my eyes widening as she straightens. “He told me everything. Why do you think that is?”

  “He… he wouldn’t.” Would he?

  She cackles a laugh, her head being thrown back with the force. “Of course he would! It’s what he does. He had his fun with you and knows he needs to get rid of you. You’re working for his company, he doesn’t need it to come back on him.”

  “Doesn’t need what to come back on him?” I ask, almost afraid.

  “Listen, Violet.” Her tone is placating, but I see the raging bitch behind her perfect exterior. “You haven’t been the first he’s done this to and I’m positive you won’t be the last.” She shakes her head. “I should have known he’d do this when I sent you to New York. He hasn’t changed one bit since college.”

  I know there’s more to it, I can feel it deep within my bones, but right now my pride has been wounded. I need to say or do something, but my mouth won’t open.

  “You didn’t really think he liked you, did you?” She stares at me, her beady eyes scanning my face. “Oh gosh, you did!”

  “Cut the fucking act,” I growl, reaching my boiling point. Finally my mouth starts working! “You’re so full of shit, I don’t believe a word that comes out of your mouth.” I shove my pad in my purse, throwing the strap over my shoulder as I stand up. “This job sucks anyway!”

  Stomping over to the elevators, I jab my finger on the button.

  “Try calling him and see what happens! You’ll have all the answers you need.”

  Turning my head, I lift my lips into a sneer before looking away and walking inside the elevator when the doors open up. As soon as I’m outside, I don’t stop—on a mission—until I’m nearly at the subway.

  She can’t be right, there’s no way Axel would do this to me. He knows how much I need this job. Not only that, but El would kill him before I even got the chance to step foot in New York and do it myself.

  I’m so angry! I can’t believe she fired me in front of the whole floor!

  Pulling my cell out, I dial his cell number. Not getting an answer, I try the office number.

  “Mr. Taylor’s PA—”

  “Hi, I’m Violet Scott, please put me through to Axel.”

  There’s a beat of silence before the voice replies, “I’m sorry, he’s really busy right now—”

  “I don’t give a flying duck if he’s busy, I want to talk to him right now.”

  “Umm… I... okay.”

  There’s some shuffling before it’s connected and his voice is coming over the line. “What?”

  “Axel?”

  I hear his low breath and my spidey sense kicks in. Was she right? Did he really do this? Get me fired? “I can’t talk right now, Violet.”

  Violet. He used my full name. Not Vi—Violet.

  “I need to—”

  “Didn’t I tell you I was busy, Amber?” he snaps.

  “I know, sir, but she seemed—” the new PA answers him.

  “I don’t care how she seemed!” Oh. Wow. “I have a deadline and this has—”

  Their voices stop and I pull the cell away from my ear, seeing the call has been dropped.

  He hung up on me!

  That… “Mothertrucker!”

  Chapter 12

  Confession #13: I fell into a bush in slow motion… a green bush, not a downstairs bush.

  I push my way through the main door between the Chinese takeout and small grocery store, stomping up the stairs avoiding the yellowing walls and down the small hall housing three doors for the apartments.

  Apartments is a word I use loosely. It’s basically one room with partitioned spaces and a door for my bathroom. I don’t live in the land of luxury, but right now I’m lucky to even have that.

  Fired. Again.

  Godfuckingdammit!

  This time it wasn’t my fault. Oh no no no. It was hers. By hers I mean my vagina, my dick hole, my pussy, my meat flaps, whatever the hell you want to call it.

  I look down as I open my door, sneering at her.

  If she’d had just kept herself under control I wouldn’t be in this position right now.

  The door vibrates shut behind me as I slam it closed and I stand still, my gaze roving over the room. Small sofa, coffee table in front of it, windows to the right between the sofa and the “kitchen” which consists of three cupboards and one counter with a bar stool tucked underneath it. To the left is a curtain partitioning off my bed and a chest of drawers. And that’s it. My sorry excuse of a life.

  Okay, okay, so I’m having a pity party but I’m allowed!

  Yanking my hair tie out, I shake my hair out before throwing my purse down onto the sofa. Pushing through to my small bathroom, I take my contacts out with much more force than I should before throwing my glasses on my face—figuratively, not literally.

  My skirt is next to go, along with the stupid blouse, and then I’m left standing in my panties and brace.

  I’m a sorry excuse for a woman right now, and I can’t help stepping closer to the mirror hanging on the back of the bathroom door to analyze myself.

  I look defeated, the complete opposite to how I looked and felt only last week.

  Back then I was lying in Axel’s bed, his muscly arms wrapped around me, his boner prodding my ass cheek, and his sexy voice whispering sweet nothings in my ear. But that’s exactly what they were; nothings.

  Now look at me, more or less naked with no job and rent due in two weeks.

  It’s official; I suck at adulting.

  “Hey, Soul Sister” starts playing from the living room and I sigh because I know who it is from
the ringtone.

  I honestly don’t think I can talk to her right now so I leave it as I plop down on the side of the tub, the cold seeping through me and making goose bumps spread over my skin.

  When will I be able to do something I love? Something I’m passionate about and can’t see myself doing anything else. When will it happen for me? When will it click what I’m meant to be?

  They say your job doesn’t define you, but what happens when you have no clue what you’re meant to be doing? Yeah, you shouldn’t be just what you do, but I need clarification, dammit!

  Violet Scott—tightrope walker—I can barely walk on solid ground.

  Violet Scott—teacher—sure, because I can barely control my own life never mind a bunch of kids.

  Violet Scott—fire thrower—yep, if you want me to set fire to everything in my path.

  Violet Scott—blogger—and I’d write about… how not to adult because I’m doing a shitty job of it right now.

  I could go on for days, but not one of them is me.

  I saw an article last week looking for professional mourners. Maybe I could do that? I certainly have the sad expression down pat. Seventy dollars to go to a funeral for two hours and pretend to mourn the deceased. Actually, that’s depressing. I’ll mark that one off my list as a firm no.

  The music plays again and I give up, pushing off the tub and heading into the living room, not caring that I’m walking around nearly naked at 10 a.m. Who the hell cares? Not me, that’s for sure!

  “What?”

  “Hello to you, too.”

  I huff out a long, tired breath. “Sorry, El. I’m having a bad… life.”

  She chuckles, but when I stay silent she clears her throat. “Vi? What’s up?”

  I wait a beat, the silence stretching between us before I shout, “He got me fired!” I wave my arm about, cringing at the small twinge in my shoulder at the force.

  “Wait, what? You got fired?”

  “Yep.” I throw myself down on the sofa, pulling my trusty blue blanket over me. “Della announced I slept with Axel in front of everyone. Said I’d broken the contract I’d signed or some shit.”