My Best Friend's Ex(3)

"You can stay with me until you find a place," Logan suggests.

I put my hand on my hip, ready to disagree. "You live in a three-bedroom apartment with six men. You sleep in bunk beds. I'm not staying with you."

He shrugs. "Don't judge my living situation. Rent is cheap as fuck." It's true, he pays two hundred dollars a month for everything. EVERYTHING. It's not fair. Although, I don't think I would ever shack up with that many people in such a small space.

"Ugh." I sit on the sidewalk, not minding the cold cement against my scrub-covered ass. "Looks like I'll be staying up late, looking for a place."

"You're good at stuff like this, Em, you'll find a place. I have no doubt about it." Logan winks at me.

I can't help but agree with him. I'm good at stuff like this, but for others, not for me. I've always been the nurturing one in my group of friends, making sure everyone is taken care of. But when it comes to me, when it comes to putting myself first, I'm freaking terrible at it. I'm more likely to by a cup of coffee for a friend so they can stay awake in class, than myself. Perhaps it's a major flaw that I never do anything for myself.

But hey, I guess that will make me a good nurse, right? Always taking care of others?





Chapter Two


TUCKER

"Jameson!"

My last name rings through the bare bones of the house I've been constructing on for the past month. My first managing project and I can already feel my boss breathing down my neck about the timeline and when we're supposed to finish.

Rolling up the plans to the house, I turn to see Julius, the beer-belly dickhead, my boss, waddling toward me. It should be comical watching the veins popping angrily in his neck. Should.

Fuck, this isn't going to be good.

"Why the hell are we spending an extra two thousand dollars on an outside electrician when we have one in-house?"

Julius Parsnip. Yup, that's his name. I've been working for him since I was a teenager. Think of your worst nightmare when it comes to a contractor and times it by ten. That's Julius. He has zero credibility when it comes to his business and the only reason he keeps getting hired for job after job is because of the people-like myself-holding his company together.

Julius is one of those managers who sits back, drinks beers, and dabbles in plans every once in a while, making a big fucking deal about things when the mood strikes him.

Looks like it's one of those moments.

"Manny is on paternity leave," I answer, keeping my voice calm. Julius has no idea about his day-to-day operations, so his lack of knowledge regarding Manny doesn't surprise me.

"Fucking fathers," he mutters to himself and shakes his head. Boss of the year right here. "You could have waited for him to come back."

I put my hands in my pockets, trying to calm the flex in my chest, the tension building in my shoulders. "Not possible. If I waited for Manny, the entire timeline would have been thrown off and we would be behind. I had counters coming in and the electricity had to be done before I could install them. I didn't have a choice."

Fuming now, his face looking like an ugly shade of purple, he spits at me, "These are things you need to bring to my attention. I could have thrown Danny in there to do the electricals."



       
         
       
        

"Danny is still an apprentice, and that goes against code."

"Fuck code. We'd have Manny sign off on it."

I run my hand over my face, knowing I won't get anywhere with this man, so I concede, my jaw tight as I say, "Yeah, next time I'll check with you."

"Fucking right you will. Just because you're managing projects now doesn't mean you manage the entire company. All decisions must be run through me." He wobbles on his feet as he points at himself, the smell of booze now making its way to me. Yup, all decisions must go through the alcoholic. Smart, so fucking smart. "You're lucky I don't take this out of your paycheck."

I try not to laugh at that comment because last time Julius tried to charge a project manager for something "gone wrong", HR backed up the employee, ensuring Julius understood how that was not possible.

But hey, empty threats are one of the cornerstones of the perfect manager, right?

Not wanting to indulge in any more conversation with this man, especially since he's drunk and stumbling over his own two feet, I ask, "Was there anything else you wanted to talk to me about?"

Standing tall, well as tall as he can-I still tower over him with my six-foot-three height-he says, "No, that's it. Check with me before you do something like that again. Got it?"