The Hating Game by Sally Thorne Read Free Book Online Page B

thing,” I tell Jeanette as we standin front of her. “It’ll all be fine.” Her poncho jingles sadly as we stride off.
    â€œWhen I’m your boss, I’m going to work you so fucking hard,” Joshua’s voice is dirty and rough.
    I am struggling to keep up with him now, but I make myself. Some of my tea spatters onto the carpet. “When I’m your boss, you’re going to do everything I say with a big smile on your face.” I nod politely at Marnie and Alan as we pass them.
    We round the corner like racehorses.
    â€œWhen I’m your boss, any more than three mistakes in your financial calculations will result in an official warning.”
    I mutter under my breath but he still hears me. “When I’m your boss, I’m going to be convicted of murder.”
    â€œWhen I’m your boss, I’m implementing a corporate support uniform policy. No more of your weird little retro costumes. I’ve already got it circled in the Corporate Wear catalog. A gray shift dress.” He pauses for effect. “Polyester. It’s supposed to be knee length, so it should reach your ankles.”
    I am insanely sensitive about my height and I absolutely hate synthetic fibers. I open my mouth and a cute animal growl comes out. I hustle ahead and bump the glass door open to the executive suites with my hip.
    â€œIs that what it would take for you to stop lusting after me?” I snap and he looks up at the ceiling and lets out a huge sigh.
    â€œYou got me, Shortcake.”
    â€œOh, I’ve got you all right.” We’re both breathing a little harder than the situation warrants. We each set down our mugs and face off.
    â€œI will never work for you. There’ll be no polyester dress. I’ll resign if you get it. It should go without saying.”
    He looks genuinely surprised for a fraction of a second. “Oh, really.”
    â€œLike you wouldn’t quit if I got it.”
    â€œI’m not sure.” He’s gimlet-eyed with speculation.
    â€œJoshua, you need to resign if I get it.”
    â€œI don’t quit things.” His voice gets a galvanized edge to it and he puts a hand on his hip.
    â€œI don’t quit things either. But if you’re so certain you’re going to get it, why would you have a problem with promising to resign?” I watch him mull this over.
    I want him to be my subordinate, skittish with nerves as I review a piece of his work, which I’ll tear up. I want him on his hands and knees at my feet, gathering up the torn shreds, burbling apologies for his own incompetence. Crying in Jeanette’s office, berating himself for his own inadequacies. I want to make him so nervous he’s tied in knots.
    â€œOkay. I agree. If you get the promotion, I promise to resign. You’ve got your horny eyes on again,” Joshua adds, turning away and sitting down. He unlocks his drawer and takes out his planner, busily sorting through the pages.
    â€œMentally strangling me again?”
    He is making a mark with his pencil, a straight single tally, when he notices me.
    â€œWhat are you smirking about?”
    I think he makes a mark in his planner when we argue.
    â€œI’ D BETTER GET to bed.” I’m talking to my parents. I’m also gently cleaning the two-dollar eBay Smurf I got a few weeks back with a baby’s toothbrush. Law & Order is on in the background and they are currently pursuing a false lead. I’ve got a white clay mask on my face and my toenail polish is drying.
    â€œAll right, Smurfette,” my parents chime like a two-headed monster. They haven’t worked out they don’t have to sit cheek to cheek to fit onto the video-chat screen. Or maybe they have, but they like it too much.
    Dad is dangerously suntanned, bar the white outline of his sunglasses. It’s a sort of reverse-raccoon effect. He’s a big laugher and a big talker, so I get a lot of glimpses of the