Page 6 of A Very Bossy Christmas

“I’ll be sure to request the one who always gets onion rings at White Castle on his way to the car wash.”

I raise the coffee mug to sniff it. “What is this?”

“A steaming hot cup of the tears of your former assistants.”

“That’s funny, because it smells like pumpkin spice.”

“That’s hilarious, because it’s a pumpkin spice latte.”

“That’s interesting because I only drink black coffee and espresso. You know that.”

“I thought maybe the pumpkin spice would put you in the holiday spirit.”

“Fuck holiday spirit. Fuck pumpkin spice.”

She crosses her arms in front of her ample, problematic chest. “Maybe you should. It would probably put you in a better mood…”

I narrow my eyes at her. “Are you trying to get yourself fired, Cooper?”

“Yes, but I’m not expecting a Christmas miracle.”

I hand her back the coffee cup. “Please accept this pumpkin spice latte in lieu of said miracle.”

“Blech, no thank you. I hate flavored coffee. Unless it’s, y’know,grown-upcoffee.”

Every now and then I detect the slightest hint of Staten Island in the way she talks, and it makes whatever she’s saying sound dirty. And I like it.

She takes a sip of the latte, grimacing. “Blech. Horrible.”

It’s fucking adorable when she wrinkles her nose like that. “Why’d you take a sip if you hate flavored coffee?”

“I thought maybe I’d like this one.”

“Serves you right for being an optimist. I need the contracts for the Branson deal in front of me.”

“Emailed them to you five minutes ago. Would you like me to purchase a Secret Santa gift on your behalf? I’m leaving early this afternoon to take my niece shopping—I can pick something up for you.”

I pull up the email on my computer. She added a winking face emoji to the subject line. “Not necessary.”

“You have to participate, or it isn’t fair to whichever unfortunate soul whose name you drew.”

“Iamparticipating. For your information, I happen to be a world-class gift giver. I will be purchasing it myself.”

I scan the documents and make a couple of notes, but it seems she’s still standing there, staring down at me.

“Anything else?”

“Once again, I would like to request the 25th off so I can spend it with my family.”

I get an email notification on my personal phone and glance down at it while she’s telling me that none of the other executives or their assistants are working from the 23rd until the 28th.

“Once again, I must remind you that you will be earning premium holiday pay.”

The email is from my brother Brady. I delete it without reading it. This means my sister called him right after she called me. That means a call from my mother is imminent. That means I’m going to have to lie to my ma.That means instead of feeling sorry for myself, I’ll hate myself.

“I don’t care about making overtime on Christmas,” she continues. “I want to see my sister’s baby and hang out with my family.”

I vigorously scrub my face with the palms of my hands, grunting.