Big Sack

Chapter One

Chapter One

Scout

Yeah, this is exactly how I pictured this would go down.

I was being sarcastic there, I know the tone is lost since it's the first line of my story and you don't know me well enough yet to see that I was being facetious.

A big word... facetious. I've got a lot of big words in my head right now like erroneous or obtuse. How about nepotism and salacious? Impotence?

"Now, Anne, we know you're going to be an asset to any firm in the future and we would be glad to provide you with letters of recommendation or references if needed."

Sorry if I come across as kind of a bitch for the next few pages, but as you can see I'm not having the best day, month, or year for that matter.

"That's..." My mouth halts the insulting comments that my brain wants to lob all over this room like the apes at the zoo flinging feces at everyone watching them in their cages. "Thanks. I appreciate that."

My eyes trail across the room to the asshole who can't even have the decency to look at me as his brother is knee deep in terminating my employment.

That's right, I'm getting fired because said asshole fucked up on several projects and instead of being a big boy and owning up to his errors and miscommunication he's decided to double down on pointing the finger at me. Of course, being new to Chase Brothers Media and not being a Chase or a brother for that matter I'm the expendable one.

Losing my job is tough and just to put a little icing on the cake, the asshole currently studying the marble conference room table top instead of participating in this lesson in forced humility decided it would be better if we didn't see each other anymore. That's bastard speak for "The girl I am actually dating found out that I was fucking around with you on the side and lying to you about our relationship, but no hard feelings right?"

"Can I just say how impressed I am at how you are handling this? It shows a level of maturity that I respect." Corbin Chase, the oldest of the Chase clan says with his hands folded out in front of him.

Maturity.

Christ, what does he expect me to do? Scream? Stomp my feet like a child and flip the bird? I'm doing that in my head right now, but one thing they teach you from the endless flaming hoops you jump through on your way to a few overpriced pieces of paper is restraint.

Once I'm handed what I am told is a "generous" severance check, I do the walk of shame past the desks of the other employees who got to keep their jobs because they didn't fuck one of the brothers and become a scapegoat for said brother's idiocy.

I'm escorted out by security, like they'd planned and plotted our route several times over in case I go rogue and start tipping over potted plants and drawing dicks on the walls of the building. I want to... but again... I'm a cultured young lady with a master's degree in media and marketing. I also have bills to pay and rent due in a week.

My phone chimes with a text and as I get into my car I glance at the message left for me.

Clive: I'm really sorry, Scout. It's for the best. Please don't hate me.

Oh, no. Hate would be the least of the emotions I have towards this sack of human shit right now, using my given name instead of my more business appropriate middle name like he has some sort of right to utter it. 

Rage.

Violent blinding anger is more apt to describe the sensations rolling over me. There's just a smidgen of hurt over being duped into believing he actually liked me and was pursuing me. I should have known when he would look over his shoulder and get overly dodgy whenever we were out together while maintaining a healthy distance. I had assumed he just wasn't into PDA and liked to be hyper-vigilant about his surroundings.

Ladies, do me a favor. If the guy you're with can't even manage to put a hand on the small of your back or lean in when you speak if you two are in the presence of others but does so in private? You are not his girlfriend. She's at home waiting for him to call and doesn't even know you exist.

Scout: I'm really sorry about this too...

I type the message quickly then flip to my work email that has yet to be deactivated, bringing up a fresh message and addressing it to the entire company directory. Like lightning I tap out a little message to accompany the file I'm forwarding.

Just a little parting note from me. Little being the operative word here... A big thank you to Clive for being such a stand up guy. I'm so glad to have gotten to know every tiny part of you.

Yes, it's immature but right now I'm not in any frame of mind to make well thought out decisions. So, yes, I attach the photo he sent me a couple of weeks ago of himself in the mirror of his office en-suite, little dick in his hands and the absolutely ghoulish O-face he made that I overlooked because he was so god damn charming.

Hitting send, I lean my arm out of the window of my car and hold up the bird that's just been dying to get flipped as I peel out into the stop and go traffic that we all come to know and love about San Francisco.

My phone starts lighting up like a Christmas tree and since I'm in a letting go kind of mood I flick it out the window, making sure my rear tires make contact with it as I head off into the sunset.

This is a new beginning, right? An opportunity for something better, something new... I'm not going to waste it feeling sorry for myself.

"I've got this! Fuck yeah, I'm going to make it!" I yell out the window at the cars rolling by earning me a thumbs up from an old lady pushing one of those wire carts full of tin cans.

That's right, Scout. This is just a bump in the road. Nothing more.