Tongue Tied

Chapter 9

My weekend was about as exciting as a funeral. I probably looked like I'd attended one too. Saturday consisted of an unhealthy amount of chocolate, followed by an entire bottle of wine while my neighbor, Carlie, was over watching chick flicks with me and letting me vent to her about the Rutherford Laurence situation. I must've drunkenly repeated "Bald Ass-worth" several times because it was the first thing Carlie mentioned to me in a fit of laughter Sunday morning. The inability to control my own giggling only fueled my hangover migraine, but I couldn't seem to make it stop. Carlie and I probably laughed for an hour straight. Well, at least it felt like it.

Carlie had been my neighbor since a month after I'd moved in. The Mahogany River Apartments were a small complex, mostly home to sweet, elderly cat ladies and a few people around my age who mostly kept to themselves. I was lucky enough to have pleasant neighbors who rarely made much noise. It was definitely not what I'd expected when I moved in. All I'd had to go on was my previous apartment experience where everyone was either in a fraternity or just plain rude.

Carlie was two years younger than me. She worked at a salon a few miles up the road. We'd instantly hit it off when I went to introduce myself. She was stunning even as she hauled in boxes out of the back of a pickup wearing overalls and no makeup. She had the most perfect French manicure I'd ever seen and her hair looked amazing. She'd created a beautiful ombre look and I was immediately envious, telling her how I couldn't get over her hair color. Since then, I'd ditched the boxes from Walmart and let Carlie become my personal hairstylist. I'd always been pretty good at box-coloring myself but I loved the way my hair looked after Carlie did it. She'd even gotten me to start wearing French tips; something I'd never taken an interest in before. We'd quickly become best friends, bonding over girl stuff and ice cream. Carlie was my go-to person to complain to now and she'd gotten an earful about both Sean Ashworth and Alec, Friday and Saturday nights.

Sunday was a less enthusiastic drinking day for me as I attempted to rid my head of the migraine from hell. Carlie tried to talk me into going shopping with her but I was sure I'd puke all over her car if I left the apartment. She stuck around until almost midnight, texting me the next morning that she had overslept and was late to work. I was experiencing the same post-hangover problem and we jokingly blamed each other in a back and forth texting war until I left for work.

Corbin and Hilliard was a mess when I walked in. There were papers scattered all over the floors, a few broken glasses in the break room, a TV with a dent in the screen, and multiple other worrisome scenes. When I entered my office I noticed the poster boards for the Rutherford Laurence pitch were no longer where I'd tossed them in a pile. Confused, I set my bag beside my desk and wandered into the hallway. I spotted Michelle and asked her what the hell was going on.

"You didn't hear?" her eyes widened and she glanced down the hall where Mr. Hilliard's office was. The door shut with a paper taped to it saying not to disturb him.

"Hear what?"

Michelle let a heavy sigh go, pushing back the bangs that always hung over her forehead. "Mr. Hilliard flipped shit Friday evening after you went home," she told me. I leaned against the door facing while she spoke, intently listening. "He threw things and broke stuff and completely blew up like we've never seen before."

"But why?" I had seen Mr. Hilliard get angry a few times and yell around the office but I'd never seen him totally lose control. I was glad I hadn't stuck around the office Friday night.

Michelle's frown intensified, her eyes looking bloodshot. She probably hadn't gotten much sleep over the weekend. "We lost Rutherford Laurence." She leaned against the opposite side of the door. "Margaret finally called back about an hour after you left and told Renee that Sean had decided to go with another agency's pitch."