A Night With My Ex's Boss

Charlie

Where the hell are you? Mike's on the warpath.

You're the target, by the way.

Thanks, Stevie.

I fire the phone back into my bag and barge through the glass doors of Dunley Tech, doused in the perfume of the London underground.

Jackie, our darling receptionist, looks up from whatever influencer's Instagram she's trying to imitate this week. She has packed so much powder on her face she looks like a cake.

"Morning," I nod curtly.

"Wow" She drags her eyes from the screen. "Your skin looks really...." I raise my eyebrows, waiting.

"Grey." She went on. "Were you boozing last night?"

"Thanks, Jackie," I replied, fumbling to find my security pass in my bag. "That's almost as nice as when you asked me if I had washed my hair in conditioner. I was up until 3am sorting out the server outage if you must know. "

"Fascinating." She turns back to Instagram. "They have started without you. Mike's raging. He says you better be ill or dead to be this late."

Damn.

I look at my watch. It's 10.20 already.

Mike Chambers is our Head of IT., has been since the company started a decade ago.

An absolute dinosaur in the workplace. He hates change and any ideas that don't come from him.

Greasy, uptight, and in desperate need of a good seeing to. We are sure he's a 50-year-old virgin.

I brace myself and push the doors of the boardroom open. It's our weekly management meeting where the team sits through Mike's dick swinging with a slideshow in the background. He rants and stomps his feet for an hour while the rest of us patiently wait for the peacocking show to draw final curtains.

Everyone has strategically chosen seats far from Mike. I walk to the only remaining seat right beside him.

Great. I haven't even had my own coffee yet; now I have to smell his rancid breath.

"Sorry, Mike, I'm running late this morning."

He leans over, breathing right in my face. If he comes any closer, I'm going to dry retch.

"I can see that. We are discussing why the India office was offline for two and half hours last night. That meant thirty staff members were unable to do any work at all. Not one line of code written!"

"I understand your frustration Mike -" I start.

"That means horse shit, Charlie." He slams his fist down on the table, making the room wince.

"Can you explain what happened here? Can you explain to the board why our most critical software release won't be out in time?"

He leans over the table, jutting his finger in my face. "Can you explain what the fuck went wrong?"

I draw in a sharp breath and refrain from vomiting profanities at him. "It was a problem with the network again. As soon as I established the problem, we had a severity 1 call out. This was the fastest they would do it in."

"The fastest?" He scoffs. "Don't be ridiculous. Who fucked up here? I. NEED. ANSWERS."

With every word, he jabs his finger on the table. He likes using his fingers for effect; we suspect he's read it in a management for dummies or control your workforce book.

"Contractually, they can take up to three hours for these types of problems. Those are our SLAs."

He blinks furiously. "How the fuck are you going to make sure it won't happen again?"

"We can't," I reply through gritted teeth. "Unless you let me move us to a cloud solution, we'll never have the resilience you want."

"Bullshit!" He howls. "We are not creating a bloody cloud, Charlie!"

I open my mouth and close it again. I have drawn Mike basic diagrams, but the understanding wasn't going in.

"No, we don't create the cloud," I say slowly. "Amazon has already done that for us."

Mike was Head of IT but didn't understand IT. To him, the software and hardware of a company should run by pressing a large red button with 'Go' on it. He couldn't understand why the button sometimes stopped working, and because of that, he got very mad. Very mad indeed.

If there was a bug found in the Operating System, it was my fault. If the payroll software had bugs in its latest version, it was my fault. His printer running out of paper, my fault, his mate sending him an email that has a virus attached, my fault, and the company firewalls blocking his porn sites were all my fault. The last one was my fault.

None of us took Mike seriously, but we had to go through the charade.

After five years of dedication and hard graft, I had reached the roaring success of what you could call lower-middle management.

Mike usually lets me get on with work without interfering because he doesn't know what my job is. Only when the Directors came down heavy on him because of an IT problem did he rear his head and go on the warpath.

I look around the table for support. Dana shrugs her shoulders. Tim discreetly picks his nose by pretending to remove fluff from his cheek.

Everyone else is looking at their phones or out the window.

I glance over at Stevie, who's pushing his tongue into his cheek, doing the blowjob sign at me.

Fuck off, I mouth back. Great bloody comradeship in this office.

"Can we talk about the acquisition, please, Mike?" Tim interjects, breaking our standoff.

Everyone sits up, interested.

Mike shifts his weight between his legs and sucks in air like Tim had just said a naughty word.

"They still can't tell us who is buying the company?" Tim continues. "I heard it was one of the tech giants."

Mike's eyes dart around the room. He's nervous. "I expect we won't see any changes." Translation: I have absolutely no fucking idea.

"Will our pay stay the same?"

"Will our jobs stay the same?"

"Can we still get the Costa coffee discount?"

"Will there be redundancies?"

Redundancies. Shit. I had ignored the topic of the company takeover this past few weeks. I'll find

out from Stevie what he knows.

He raises his hands to quieten us. "As far as we are aware, it will be business as usual; nothing will change."

There were a few murmurs.

"There will be comms circulated throughout the company in the next day or two," he says firmly.

Comms. I hate that word. Comms, vision, strategy, strategic vision, all words that got Mike licking his lips.

He says 'there will be comms' when he wants to shut us down, which means he's no clue what is going on himself.

Our barrel of questions is interrupted by a knock at the door.

"Excuse me, Mike," Jackie smiles with fake sweetness. "I have an important message for

Charlie."

She looks sensational, but that's because she uses the reception as a salon.

Mike nods at her to continue.

"It's from your sister. She says it's an emergency, and you must contact her immediately".

Oh god. My stomach heaves.

This is bad.

Someone's dead.

Dad's dead.

There's been news from Ireland that he's had a heart attack... or he finally overdosed on drink? No, Mum's dead. Someone crashed into her when she was driving too slow.

Both of them are dead.

"That's fine." Mike waves his hand to dismiss me.

I stand up shakily...be strong, Charlie. You must be strong for Callie.

Although why does Callie know before me? Surely it should be the older sibling that delivers bad news? Why isn't Tristan calling? Is there something wrong with Tristan?

I follow Jackie out to reception, getting out my phone. Sure enough, there are 10 missed calls from Callie. Shit!

"Did she say who it was about? Is it Dad?"I ask in a high pitch. She shrugs. "Not in my job description to ask." Bitch.

I grab the phone.

"Callie?" I stammer. "What is it?"

"Charlie!" She shouts over the noise of traffic. It sounds like she's on a really busy road. I was right; Mum's been in a car accident.

"Yes?" I shriek. "What is it? What's going on?"

"Thank God." She exhales heavily. 'I am in such a dilemma. I am just outside Selfridges with a hundred bags, and I can't move! You are going to have to come here and help me carry them to the train."

"What?" I hissed in a lowered tone so Jackie wouldn't hear. "You got me out of a meeting with the management team because you have too many shopping bags to carry home? That's the emergency?"

"Yes!" She exclaims. "I'm stranded, and Mom says I must be home in an hour! I didn't realise until I went to the boot section and once I had bought the three pairs of boots I realised that I couldn't lift everything! I had to call for a security guard, and he helped get me to the door with the bags but with an appalling attitude considering how much I had purchased, complaining that it wasn't in the job description-"

"Callie," I cut in, furious. "Do you realise I am working? Do you realise that you cannot call one of your shopping sagas an emergency and demand I leave a meeting for it?"

"It's 10.30 on a Monday morning. Why the hell are you not in school?"

"Keep your knickers on; it's not like you've got an important job like Tristan." She yawns. "So, how long will you be then?"

"You'd better pray that I don't come down there, Callie. Because if I do, you are going to find a stiletto lodged deep into your arsehole. Now Fuck off!" I slam down the phone.

Unbelievable.

Jackie coughs behind me. I whip round to face her.

"That sounds like quite a dilemma," she purrs. "Your poor sister."

I shot her a venomous look. "It's not in your job description to listen to private calls." "And it's not in yours to take them." She fires back.

"Go back to your hashtagging, Jackie."

"I doubt you even know what that means." She rolled her eyes.

"I am very aware of the usage." I snatch paper from my desk and scribble furiously. "Have you forgotten I'm the head of IT Support?"

I put the paper down on her keyboard. "Hashtag this, Jackie."

#GOFUCKYOURSELF

2

Charlie

"Hello?" I call out from the hallway, flinging off my sneakers. It's 7.30pm on Monday evening, and I'm already waiting for the weekend.

Cat, Julie, Suze, and I have all shared a flat in Kentish Town for five years.

It would have been perfect if the mice hadn't moved in around the same time as us, but hey, you know what they say about London – you are never more than a metre away from a rat.

Cat teaches drama in a school in Highgate. It's so posh that doctors can't afford to send their kids there. Cat said that all the kids have their own drivers to leave them to school and that Tony Blairs' kids applied but couldn't get in.

Julie is a junior lawyer for a publishing firm in Liverpool Street and is flourishing due to her sociopathic personality. We made her take a test once, and let's just say, from the results, we will never cross her.

No one really understands Suze's job, something to do with logistics.

It's Julie's flat, a fact she will never let us forget. It's even woven into her chat-up lines. What do you do? I'm a lawyer and a landlord.

We've never been able to work out how she owns a four-bedroom North London flat on her wages, even if it is outdated and riddled with mice. You need old money for bricks like this.

When we first met Julie, she dazzled us with her welcoming charm. Sit down, girls, welcome to your new home. Cat, don't worry about washing up, dear, I will do that. Of course, it doesn't matter that you split your tea on the carpet Charlie, let me just clear that up for you.

The honeymoon period lasted about 5 days. Then it was plates smashing, daily screaming sessions, and a hole kicked in Cat's bed when she took more than six minutes to have a shower.

We continue to live there because we're too scared to hand our notice in to Julie. The same reason she's never been dumped by a bloke.

Suze is sprawled on the sofa watching a cooking show.

"Hey," I say, throwing myself into the armchair. "I thought you were supposed to be at Yoga tonight?

"I was, but I didn't want to overexert myself," she explains between mouthfuls of scone and clotted cream. "I booked into spinning tomorrow, so I didn't want to ruin that by doing Yoga tonight."

She waves the scone in the air. "And this is a keto scone, so no harm done!"

"But you didn't go to Pilates last night because of Yoga tonight." I frown, confused.

She waves away the question. "Like faffing about in leggings trying to find my inner beauty is going to do me any good. Didn't you hear? I'm going spinning tomorrow! That's 600 calories gone in an hour! I need the energy for it."

"Sure." I give her a blank look.

"Hey, Charlie." Cat breezes out of the bedroom with a post-coital glow on her face, with Stevie trailing after her.

They've been hooking up ever since Cat tagged along to my last work drinks. Loudly. She's become a lot more adventurous in the sex department. They have gadgets and devices that look like they need manuals.

"It's a bit early, isn't it?" I raise my eyebrows. She shrugs. "It's the only time we get to ourselves." "With Suze in the flat?" I wrinkle my nose.

"If we don't have some sexy time while she is in the flat, we'd be celibate," Stevie replies. That's true. Suze books a lot of gym classes but never leaves the flat.

Cat eyes me. "You look stressed."

I reach over and pour a large glass of wine from the bottle Suze has started. "No, I'm not." I sigh. "This is the most chilled I've ever been in my life." "So, have you thought about your birthday anymore?" Charlie asks excitedly.

"I told you this topic is not open for discussion."

Suze looks at me. "29..nearly 30...that's frightening. Speeding towards 40 now".

"Yes, Suze." I give her a filthy look. "I am very aware of the fact I'm aging.. can you please stop emailing me that picture with all the cats at the door saying that they've heard I'm nearly 40 and not married?"

"But it's funny. At least you have some love interest this year, better than last year."

She tilts her head to the side, studying me. "Although I never hear you having sex."

"Suze," I grit my teeth. "Stop keeping tabs on my bedroom routine." "You need to do something regularly for it to become a routine." I suck in sharply. She had a point.

"It's hard to make time. I'm working such long hours." I snap defensively. "After a while, the sex goes on the back burner, doesn't it Cat?"

Cat frowns. 'Not for me. I mean, you two are still in the honeymoon period; it's been like eight months, right?"

The three of them sit on the sofa studying me.

"Why, Charlie, how often are you and Ben having sex?" Cat asks.

The question rattles me.

"Oh well, you know as often as we can...," I trail off, trying to remember the last time.

"Like, once a week?"

"Hmmm, well it depends, you know, I have been exhausted recently with work and everything." She stares at me "ok, so when was the last time?" I gulp. 'Maybe 4 weeks ago?'.

"4 weeks," Stevie shakes his head, laughing. "He's definitely getting it elsewhere."

"He is not." I shoot back defensively. Mind you, if he was, then it would mean I wouldn't have to when I was tired.

What am I saying??

"I just haven't wanted to lately," I admit.

"Bloody waste of cock!" Suze snorts. "Ben is damn gorgeous. If you don't want it, I will!" "You don't want to?" Cat is staring at me. "Charlie, you have to have sex with your boyfriend. That's the difference between a boyfriend and a friend." "I know that!" I wail.

I sigh, slumping into the chair. "I just don't want to anymore. I wish I could, and until 4 weeks ago, I was really good at pretending that I enjoyed it, and I could do that at least once a week. Maybe twice if I'm drunk enough, but recently, I just can't." I gulp a large mouthful of wine.

"But why don't you like it?" Cat asks.

I think for a second. 'I get distracted. And bored. Now it kind of feels like a chore, like hoovering'.

"Distracted?" Cat repeats, distraught. "Hoovering?"

"Doesn't your mind ever wander when you are having sex?"

"Not really. I'm pretty much thinking about the task at hand." She smirks at Stevie, and I grimace.

"So, what do you get distracted by?"

I try to think back. "The last time we had sex, the Seattle office had an open issue that I just couldn't get resolved, so I -"

"You got distracted by work?" Stevie interjects, laughing his head off. "That poor bloke. It must be like having sex with a cardboard box." I narrowed my eyes on him.

"Charlie," she hesitates, "is it sex or...sex with Ben?"

"What do you mean?" I return dismissively. "I love Ben obviously, so it's nothing to do with him.

It's me."

"Yes, but if you think about it, you also love Barney." I cannot believe she has just compared my boyfriend to my old dog.

"Cat, that is the worst comparison I have ever heard. I mean, I know you and Stevie are being adventurous in the bedroom, but -"

"Why, why would you think that?" she snaps defensively. I never told her about the whip I found in her bedroom when I went in to borrow her purple top. "Oh, you know you just seem like the adventurous type." "I wouldn't say that," she answers too quickly.

"Ben is coming round tonight." Thinking about it, I take another large gulp of wine. If I get pissed, maybe I will get in the mood.

She thinks for a while. "OK, maybe you just need to spice things up a little. You are right; a couple can't just do the same old boring thing and expect not to get a little complacent."

"But what can I do?"

"Why don't you try talking dirty to him?"

I'm listening. I have never really talked dirty to Ben before; it has just been a bit of ooh and aah put in for good measure.

I reach for my phone. Google will know what to do.

***

I hear banging on the door, and Cat goes to answer it. We have concocted a cunning plan of seduction. I'm in my bedroom in a fluffy pink underwear set that I bought from Ann Summers on sale. I'm draped across the bed. I hear him come to the bedroom door and arrange my bra, so the nipples are peaking out.

"Charlie?" he knocks on the door.

"Enter," I answer huskily.

He comes in and flings himself on the bed, head down into the pillows. "What a day! I'm exhausted."

Great, he hasn't noticed. I'm wearing my sexiest come-fuck-me outfit, and I feel like I have the sex appeal of a slug in salt.