my boss' arrogant son chapter 6

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Turned out we drove all the way through to Perth  just so that twat could ask an AWOL Junkie a few questions.  Witness or not, the guy looked the definition of ‘Smackhead’.

Stinking of piss with stains all over his shell tracksuit - he had about three teeth left in total, with hollow cheeks and glazed eyes. 

So as you can guess it was love at first sight.

I’ve got to give the guy some  credit though, he offered us both a drink straight from his precious bottle of Buckfast, which was glued to his hand as he answered the door.

Needless to say, just the smell of it in my fragile state nearly made me sick right on the spot.

Swaying on the spot, Mr James couldn’t seem to figure out why we were there, even after Evan explained it 6 times while I tried to breath through my mouth.

After the sixth time, Evan seemed to give up and actually rescheduled for next week.

Can you believe that?   We drove through there for nothing.  Could he not have called him first to make sure he still remembered that we were coming, I mean that is what a phone is for right? 

Having said that, Mr James had probably already flogged it at his local cash converters for his next hit, but that’s not the point.  The point is, I was dragged all the way through here for completely jack shit.

If you were there, you probably would have seen the steam boiling out of my ears on the way back to the car.

When we finally got back through to Dundee, it was staring to get dark and thankfully my working day was nearly over.

I hadn’t bothered to waste a breath on Evan the whole drive back (where he forced me to sit in the passenger seat), so the minute we parked up outside the offices, I was inside like a shot.

Slumping down on my seat, I was glad I ‘accidentally’ left the heater on, getting myself warmed up.

Checking my emails while Evan stomped into his daddy dearest’s office, I ignored them all except one from Leanne, telling me she felt ill and had pulled a sickie from her work.  What a loser.

I quickly replied, ‘Toughen up Bitch ;P xx’, before getting brave enough to open my other emails.

Dear Sir/Madam,

I have recently been in involved in an accident, and would like to enquire about your fees for representation.  I would appreciate a prompt response.

Thanks,

Gillian Taylor

Really Gillian Taylor, you’re an idiot.  Sighing, I quickly wrote back;

Hi Gillian,

Please find attached above a copy of our application form, which you can complete and either send or fax back.
Once I receive this back, I would be happy to give you a quote.

Kind Regards,

Emma

Hitting send, I checked the time and almost cried in relief.  5:05pm, finally the day from hell is over. 

Packing up, I switched my computer off and tried to make some sense of all the papers strewn over my desk, before going to Alan’s door and pressing my ear against it.  I couldn’t make out anything they were saying inside, and had the familiar butterflies in my stomach that I was going to be in major trouble when Alan finds out about my cruising in the company car without a license.  Oh well, shit happens.

Giving up, I left the office and went downstairs to the lobby, only to find it pissing down with rain. God, I love Dundee sometimes.

I’d been in such a rush this morning, that I’d completely forgotten my coat - so even though my flat was only five minutes down the road, I found myself pulling out my mobile and dialling the local taxi service that I have on speed dial 5 because I’m so lazy.  Well I didn’t want to get my hair wet did I?

“Who ya calling?”  Somebody asked startling me from behind.  I spun around to see Evan strutting through like he owned the place.  Well, I suppose he kind of does but that’s not the point.

“Taxi,” I replied, turning away from him and inspecting the nails on my free hand while I waited for an answer.   

“Aww, not wanting to get wet?” he asked, and I looked up to see a huge smirk plastered on his face like he was really enjoying this.  “Well, I think I’ll just drive myself home, but good luck with that,” he continued on in a bored tone, emphasising ‘drive’. 

As if to prove his point, he pulled his car keys out his pocked and started spinning them on his finger, watching to see my reaction.

Do you think I’d get the sack if I just lamped him one?  He’s really starting to piss me off.

Narrowing my eyes at him, I was about to tell him where he could stick his keys when he just laughed and pushed the doors open, disappearing outside and leaving me completely raging. 

Deep breaths Emma, deep breaths.

The taxi company still hadn’t bothered to answer their phone, so giving up I stashed my phone back in my bag and prepared to run in my little court heels.

When I finally made it home I looked like a drowned rat.  My white shirt had turned pretty see-through which explains all the funny looks I was getting, my hair was plastered to the side of my face and the thick black tights I’d thrown on this morning were drenched.

Slipping my heels off beside the door, I staggered through to the kitchen shivering, switching the heating on and turning the radio up full blast.  I think I’m in the mood for a pamper night tonight, fuck I deserve one.  So throwing my pyjamas on, I stuck all my hair back and got the facemasks out. 

Smothering my face in the nearest one until I looked like a ghost, I walked back through to the kitchen and checked the fridge for any munch.  Surprise surprise, there was absolutely bugger all left apart from a half open tin of beans and milk that now looked closer to cream. 

Great - I can’t exactly go strolling down to my local Tesco looking like this now could I - so I guess it’s take-away again tonight.  No wonder I’m pilling the pounds on, all I eat is crap.  First thing next week, I’m definitely joining the gym.  I know I say that every week but I really mean it this time.

Collapsing on the sofa, I grabbed the list of menu’s under the coffee table and started shifting through them until I landed on Chinese.  Yeah, Chinese’ll do the trick I reckon.

I grabbed my mobile and was surprised to see a new message from an unknown number. 

Cautiously I opened it, with the familiar feeling of dread on whether I gave my number out to any freaks last night when I was drunk and was away to get one of those dreaded flashbacks. 
I didn’t need to worry about flashbacks though, this was much worse than that.

It was just 6 little words staring back at me, so why was I so pissed.

‘Did you get a taxi then?’

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