A Day at the Office or The Bastard Read online

Copyright:

  A Day at the Office or The Bastard©2013 Jane Oldaker

  All Rights Reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or in any means – by electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise – without prior written permission.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  ISBN 978-0-9881533-5-6

  A Day at the Office or The Bastard is an Arlo the Barncat publication which is exactly the same as self-publishing.

 

  Contents:

  Copyright

  Dedication

  A Day at the Office or The Bastard

  Also By Jane Oldaker

  About the author

  An Excerpt from Nothing Ventured

  To Jamie

 

  A Day at the Office or The Bastard:

  She pedalled furiously on the exercise bike, revelling in her shortness of breath and the pounding of her heart. Thinking of him she pedalled all the harder until she could see flashing pinpricks of light, like miniature fireworks explosions in her field of vision. Her lips were set in a line as she imagined the resistance she would put up today should he try to interfere with her work in any way or make new unreasonable demands with impossible deadlines. She wouldn’t have it and the bastard was insane if he thought he was going to push her around. Gazing out the window she could see the first dirty fingers of dawn stealing across the ground. Sadly there was no time to work with her weights today, no time to generate and savour a cathartic release. She would have to move smartly, walk the dog and make herself ready for work in order to arrive on time.

  She worshipped punctuality and his habit of keeping her waiting for a few moments here and a few moments there maddened her. He behaved as if her time were his unlimited pocket money, to be squandered on frivolous indulgences. She suspected he did it all the more often for the knowledge of its effect on her. She had detected a glint of satisfaction and amusement in his eyes more than once on such occasions when he didn’t think she was looking. It was a brief but distinct departure from his customary bland expression which he was quite capable of maintaining even when confronted with twin daggers of fury in her eyes.

  Her blood pressure seemed to drop when she snapped the leash on the dog. She patted his head and he made a polite turn toward the door, wagging his tail gently in a restrained and mannerly display of eagerness for his walk. Why oh why couldn’t that bastard at the office display half the manners of a well-trained dog? She sighed and zipped up her windbreaker with the leash in her hand. The dog waited patiently. Opening the door she glimpsed their sedan just turning out of the driveway. Her husband was on his way to work. How she wished the two of them could spend the day together, revelling in one another’s company, the rest of the world for all intents and purposes nonexistent.

  Instead she had to spend the day in the office with that bastard. She let the dog lead the way down the driveway, gripping the leash until her knuckles turned white, taking care not to transmit tension down the lead to the dog. There was no need to spoil his day. Twenty minutes later the two returned and she strode briskly to the shower to sluice off the sweat from her workout and brisk walk. She emerged a few minutes later, radiant with the fresh scent of her favourite shower gel, reflecting ruefully that it seemed like a ritual cleansing performed in preparation for a sacrifice. It would be a sacrifice of herself and her day. All because of that bastard and the toxic effect he had on her workplace. Extending the metaphor a little further she headed for her closet to select the day’s ritual robes. The sacrificial virgin must be appropriately garbed. Except she wasn’t a virgin. Shrugging at the thought that virgin or not she was nonetheless the sacrificial whatever she tugged her closet door open and flicked through the hangers selecting a black pinstripe suit with skirt and a white blouse with a minimalist ruffle which made the barest possible suggestion of girlishness in a pinstripe sea of businesslike austerity. Black pumps with a fashionable, blocky heel completed the outfit and she dithered over whether to add a heart-shaped locket. It was a treasured gift from her husband and she hated to waste it on the bastard at the office. She glanced at her watch. No time to put on mascara again today.

  Thirty minutes later she freewheeled the family sports car into the parking lot, stopping abruptly, clutch and brake to the floor, and swore under her breath when she realized that her parking spot had once again been usurped by none other than the bastard himself. She ground her gears maneuvering the car into another spot, not quite so close to the building’s entrance. Depositing her purse and briefcase in her office, she went to the kitchen for a much-needed cup of coffee. She entered one door just in time to see the bastard exiting through the other. Sure enough he had taken the last cup of coffee again without starting another pot. Infuriated she slammed cupboard doors and drawers both as she assembled the wherewithal for a pot of coffee. Inhabitants of the nearby cubicles jumped at the sound and looked at one another in puzzlement, but not surprise. Once the machine had spewed forth the required brew she sat down at her desk, determined to master the day’s onslaught of emails and information requests in addition to putting the finishing touches on some mission-critical analytical reporting she had stayed late three nights in a row to work on.

  Concentrating on the first email she had nicely assimilated the thrust of its inquiry and was midway through the process of mentally formulating an appropriate response. She set down her coffee cup after the first luscious, welcome sip and her right hand was in mid flight in the direction of her mouse to click the reply button when the door to her office was abruptly opened without the formality of a knock never mind the solicitation of her consent or any reply whatsoever. Of course it was none other than the bastard himself. He sat his lean, limber, jeans-clad self down in one of her chairs and bade her a cheerful good morning.

  She was maddened that she found him attractive and even further irked at his habitual garb of blue jeans, crisp white dress shirt and spotted navy blue bow tie. Ultra self-conscious about the image she projected she was therefore ultra conservative in her choice of business attire and found his wardrobe proclivities inappropriate given the seriousness of their daily undertakings. And the bow tie was just kind of weird. Suppressing a twinge of frustration she wished once more that she could have stayed home with her beloved husband. It was a nice enough day for an exploratory drive in the country in the sports car which he generously let her drive. The car was his other great love and he could shift its gears with effortless smoothness while she watched, mesmerized by his groove with the machine.

  She returned his greeting, deflecting his attempt to disarm her with a businesslike demeanor and kept her gaze unseeing on her computer screen hoping he would take the hint and depart. She dared not reach for her mouse again lest she open the door for him to once again derail her train of thought. She would not give the bastard the satisfaction of seeing her flustered and frustrated.

  He asked what she was working on. She told him she was replying to her emails and without letting her finish her sentence he asked her if she had finished the analysis and projections, the same reports she had stayed late three nights before and planned on tweaking that morning. Anger blossomed within her at the interruption and it took considerable effort to maintain her composure. She told him the reports would be ready a little later that morning. She reached for her mouse now and click
ed it a couple of times at nothing in particular and tried her best to appear intently engrossed in the content on her computer screen. “By noon please.” He said lightly, his lean frame springing from his chair and disappearing out her office door before she could blink. She gritted her teeth at the unasked for extension to the time frame she herself had established for the completion of the reports. He was also a patronizing bastard she reminded herself.

  Applying herself intently she finished her emails and tweaked the reports, attaching them to an email and clicking the send button with satisfaction. Glancing at the time she realized a snack would be appropriate and fetching up her coffee cup with its two cold inches in the bottom she went to the kitchen with a light step. The same employees who cringed in apprehension earlier while she banged around the kitchen making coffee were now eating their lunch and chatting with one another. A quick visual appraisal of her mood when she walked in the door and they welcomed her to join them at the kitchen table where she passed a light-hearted half hour in pleasant conversation with them, leaving only when she felt her work tugging at her brain. She strolled out one kitchen door just as a sneaker-clad foot appeared through the other, shortly to be followed by a blue polka-dot bow tie. The bow tie was greeted with the same warmth and enthusiasm that she was, but without the need to gauge its owner’s mood. The sounds of light-hearted conversation and camaraderie continued, now punctuated by a booming masculine laugh.

  She was barely seated at her desk when he entered without knocking, printed copies of her analyses in hand, inked-in changes visible from across the room. Would he ever learn to work on the electronic versions? This thought faded as quickly as it had effervesced in her brain leaving a vacancy just as quickly filled with dread at the thought of the easy discard of her most carefully conceived efforts and the afternoon that was soon to be filled with hair-tearing revisions of little apparent value.

  She was expressionless during his courteous explanation that the changes were driven by shifting business needs rather than any perceived deficiency in her work. She was only a little mollified by this and was certain the bastard wouldn’t depart without indulging himself in some form of nitpicking. She was soon gratified when he handed her his pages with silly little edits to the titles of her columns and ridiculous changes to the layout which which were bound to destroy the intuitive logic she had so carefully crafted. Tugging at the absurd little polka dot bow tie as if it were too tight he asked her to complete the revisions that day at the same time acknowledging that she would have to work late yet again in order to accomplish it. “We appreciate your commitment,” he said, lifting his lithe and limber self out of the chair on the other side of her desk. She momentarily considered braining the bastard with her stapler. With businesslike dignity she promised to deliver.

  And so her afternoon was sacrificed and her crisp white blouse wilted on her as she labored over the revisions. Her hair was in disarray from repeated finger-combing it as she contemplated how best to present the information. There was no way she would let the short notice prevent her from submitting work that was anything less than her customary high standard. She was there long after the bastard had gone home for the day. To be perfectly fair, he started earlier in the morning than she did she reminded herself.

  When at last the report was completed to her satisfaction and she had emailed it to the bastard, she looked at her watch and discovered to her dismay that it was five minutes to sitting down to dinner time. She gathered her things and wondered how she was going to explain to her beloved husband how the day got away from her once again so that she failed to produce dinner when it was her turn. Flustered, she nonetheless managed to maneuver the sports car home without insult to its transmission proving to herself that she could execute delicate mechanical operations with graceful capability provided she was outside the reach of the bastard’s toxic sphere of influence.

  Entering the house she was greeted with quiet, mannerly enthusiasm by the dog and once again she could feel her blood pressure drop. The mouth-watering odour of her favourite supper wafted out of the kitchen and as it found her nostrils she realized with a blissful sigh that she would not have to explain after all. Slipping off the blocky pumps and pinstriped jacket she padded barefoot to the kitchen. Where was he? She lifted the lid off the pot on the stove and closed her eyes, inhaling the delicious vapor. Suddenly arms went around her, a hand cupped her breast and lips softly met the back of her neck. Euphoric she whipped around in his arms, one arm went about his neck as she lifted her lips to his. The other hand flew to his throat and her fingers deftly removed his blue polka dot bow tie.

 

  Also By Jane Oldaker:

  Novels:

  Nothing Ventured - Molly Malone is obsessed with putting herself on the map by building a prestigious housing development. All she needs to get started is a very large wad of cash. Romance is about the last thing she would ever pencil into her overflowing diary until she encounters the breathtakingly handsome Paul Farnsworth, front man for a group of investors who might back Molly’s project.

  An excerpt from Nothing Ventured follows this section.

  Nothing Gained - coming late 2013 or early 2014. Ada’s career as a meddler continues when her niece Miranda comes to stay with her. Howie finds out the truth about his father Sid. Molly buys horses from an unscrupulous dealer and the consortium decides to sponsor a couple of riders for a lark.