The Demise of Steele Reeves

HOW TO PLAY A PLAYER

Never show interest first.

Slowly acknowledge him.

Stay in control.

Let him text and call you.

Think Beyoncé…Irreplaceable.

Channel your inner Lizzo.

Give him a little taste…but not the cookie.

Take control. You own this.

Don't let the player play you.

Under no circumstances, must you fall for the player.

Call her crazy, but Emmie loved the start of a new workweek. It was a chance to put failures behind them with a fresh start, and get her team pumped for another full week together.

Considering she was mostly her own boss helped her willingness to get up and go, but she did love her job. The early morning buzz of downtown Dallas, with a stop at Ellen’s for a quick bite to eat and coffee.

That was all she needed to fight that Monday morning grogginess. Getting up with the birds became easier over the last few months, since her parents kicked out her older brother. He was currently giving her a crash-course on couch surfing.

If his snores weren’t enough, the man compared closely to a sow with his lack of hygiene and tidiness. She hadn’t remembered him being so gross growing up.

Sadly, Tommy held a lot of wasted potential, being smarter than most without trying, but with no ambition to do anything other than the bare minimum. He’d been the golden boy in high school, and close with Emmie, but something happened to Tommy when his fiancé left him.

It seems she kicked him so hard his dignity leaked from his ears. When her mother called her in tears, she knew their dad finally booted him out, not that she could blame him.

Tommy was twenty-eight, and when he lost his pipeline job for being late for the sixteenth time in three months, he went into chill mode. Meaning someone else’s Netflix account while he chilled on someone else’s couch. Now he took a permanent residence at her apartment, with a soda in one-hand and salt-and-vinegar chips in the other.

When Emmie walked into her office building each morning it was a breath of fresh air away from her brother and into a role she loved so much.

She click-clocked down the hallway toward her desk, noticing her assistant turned best-friend Jasmine lying face down on her sofa in the corner of her office. Emmie chuckled to herself, putting down her breakfast and taking a seat with her coffee.

“Let me guess…you were sexed down so good by that husband of yours last night that you’re completely limp and can’t work?”

Jasmine turned her head toward Emmie without moving her body, a huge smile on her face. “You know me too well. This baby-making agenda is not for the faint of heart. I’m exhausted.”

“Well, you shouldn’t be so irresistible,” she said. “You can’t blame Ace for wanting you in the mid-night hours.”

Jasmine smirked, sat up, and gave Emmie a sheepish smile. “You’re totally right. I am pretty irresistible.”

They both laughed. Jasmine could give Zoe Saldana a run for her money. She was tall, leggy, with light eyes and shoulder length hair. Her caramel-colored skin always attracted attention wherever they went because most white girls would die for her skin tone.

Not to mention her almond shaped eyes, the little freckle above her lip and sweet smile. Jasmine was worth keeping; Emmie would throw hands on anyone who disagreed.

Emmie took a sip of her coffee and gave Jasmine a what can you do look. “I mean…you can’t blame Ace, you knew he wanted a family—”

“Okay, Echo,” Jasmine said standing up, straightening her A-line black dress, nervously wiping her palms down the length. “I hear it enough at home.”

Emmie sighed, batting her eyelashes. “You two would have beautiful babies, Jas. Your caramel skin with his green eyes? Plus, I’m itching to become a god mother.”

Jasmine grinned, turning to walk toward her desk, which sat outside of Emmie’s office. “It’s just petrifying the thought of pushing a baby out of my hoo-ha.”

It wasn’t as if Emmie had her own children to help calm her nerves about it, or even a guy. Not that Emmie couldn’t get one, she was good at picking up a man, but him being worth the time it took to actually shave her legs or leave her house proved the problem.

Eligible bachelors in Dallas were rare. Emmie’s phone vibrated against her desk. She sighed, before answering Tommy’s call that she put on speaker.

“Hey, Bocefus just took a huge dump on my jeans.”

“What did you feed him this morning? I’m assuming not the dog food he’s been eating since birth like I asked.”

“I did,” Tommy defended. “Well, with some of my avocado—”

“Dogs can’t have that!” Emmie said.

“He begged for it.”

“Well, if we all got what we begged for in life I’d be traveling the circus with Aunt Susie since age ten.”

“Whatever—”

“Clean it up!”

Emmie hung up before he could respond.

“I’d ask how Tommy's situation is going but I’m pretty sure that sums it up?” Jasmine asked.

“You’d be right.”

The elevator dinged from down the hallway, Laura the floor’s shark walked out in six-inch heels and a skirt tight enough to see what her mother gave her. “Someone get the chum,” Jasmine mumbled.

Emmie took another sip of coffee, while watching Laura drop off her things, and do her runway walk toward them. Was it bad she envisioned her tripping over her long legs and drowning in the coffee Emmie would voluntarily spill?

Who says coffee can’t cure the world’s problem?

Being marketing manager was her dream job, landing it at twenty-six and keeping it for four years was a privilege that Emmie wouldn’t forget, but with every dream comes the ones that can’t stand to see you make it.

Via: Laura the Shark.

“Hello, girls, nice dress,” she said to Jasmine before bumping her out of the way to walk inside Emmie’s office.

Emmie ignored the pair of scissors Jasmine held up to Laura’s back and swallowed down her smile.

Laura stopped in front of her desk, hip swayed to the side, her long hair hanging down her back in a thick wave. Unfortunately, she was as beautiful as she thought she was, until she opened her mouth. “I have the pitch for the diet bars.”

Emmie sat down her coffee. “Let’s hear it.”

Laura smiled wide. “Got some flab, eat a diet slab?”

Jasmine choked on her coffee from her desk, and Emmie pressed her lips together in an attempt not to howl with laughter. “That’s not a catchy slogan, Laura. It sounds like cow food to me. Diet slab?”

Laura huffed, dropping her hand that held her note card. “Are you serious? It took me all weekend to come up with that.”

Emmie gave her a shrug. “I guess you’ll have to do some work during hours instead of texting and sending snapchats?”

Shooting her a narrowed looked; she walked toward the door and whispered beneath her breath, “You wish someone would take the time to sext you.”

“What was that?” Emmie asked.

“Nothing,” she shouted from her desk.

Emmie felt her eye begin to twitch but took a calming breath and started to write their agenda for the week.

Most marketing managers jumped from place to place, trying to stay relevant and survive the best they could with the ever-changing market.

Emmie felt blessed with the ability to know people, and their interest without personally knowing them. Her sociology minor really helped her on categorizing the public.

Especially men.

Although Tommy played part in the reason she knew men so well. Their dad coached high school football, so their home was full of high school boys and Tommy’s friends.

It was evident at an early age that Emmie knew how to read a guy. When was he flirting? Is he flaky? Can he handle a relationship, or is he just good for a rump in the sheets?

“Emmie?”

She glanced up from her e-mails to a tear-streaked Ariel. Ariel was a pretty Hispanic woman, short with deep curves and long dark hair. Her makeup always looked like a perfect Instagram filter but today she just resembled a sad puppy abandoned in a cardboard box in front of the 7-11.

“What is—”

“He never called me back!”

Ariel began to blubber in the doorway to her office while the girls stared from down the short hallway. If Emmie didn’t know about this man, it meant he wasn’t around long enough for Ariel to sob.

“Ariel, do you need to go to the bathroom—”

“He just took me out, got me drunk and then didn’t even take me home. Never called. Never anything!”

Emmie went to Girl’s Night once a week with these women and Ariel knocked back liquor like an alcoholic invited to a frat party.

Ariel could give Meredith from The Office a run for her money. The only difference was that Ariel didn't put out for steak coupons.

Jasmine’s wide eyes met Emmie's through the glass wall of her office. Tara Karr, her restaurant guru, walked over, wrapping her arm around Ariel’s shoulders. Being blunt, Tara asked, “Do you need to go to the bathroom, because I can’t work with your blubbering. Suck it up. Pull yourself together."

“Tara!” Jasmine said, making her way over, she pushed Ariel inside and shut Emmie’s door, locking Tara out.

Tara was the best worker on the floor by far, so Emmie couldn’t sweat her for wanting to work, but compassion just didn’t settle well with her. Coming from Asian parents, they raised her with strict rules and blunt opinions. Not nice opinions mostly.

The gene obviously didn’t stop there.

“What’s wrong?” Jasmine asked coddling Ariel.

The elevator dinged and interrupted Ariel’s hiccup and sent Emmie into a frantic mess. It had to be Mitchel Jones, their boss, because he always made an appearance on Monday mornings, not that he would be bothered any other time because the third floor needed his attention. Obviously, sporting equipment, alcoholic beverages and lawn care were more important to society than women who actually ruled the world.

Science proved it; Emmie was sure of it.

Emmie heard Mitchel’s laugh from down the hallway. Jumping up, she shoved Ariel and Jasmine into the nearest bathroom to her office. She leaned against Jasmine’s desk while Mitchel and his newest brownnosing third level man made their way toward her.

What was his name? Seth or Sam. She didn’t know or care. They all sang the same tune to her, nice smile with an even nicer face, but they lacked any kind of emotion other than to grunt at women and laugh at Mitchel’s lame jokes.

And trust me they're lame.

“Good morning to Ms. Daniels,” Mitchel said, his cheesy smile on display, hands shoved into a pair of slacks that cost more than her apartment.

“Everything in check over here?” he asked, running his fingers through his hair, as if he was proud to have it, which was a questionable subject around the office.

“I sent out the agenda this morning, and we were just getting started,” she said, shuffling the brochures on the top of Jasmine’s desk.

“Hey, Mr. Daniels,” Laura said.

He tossed her a finger wave.

Mitchel scanned the floors and the lighting before meeting Emmie’s eyes. He seemed a little preoccupied which was odd since he came down willingly.

“What’s going on?” she asked.

Mitchel gestured toward the man standing beside him. Emmie drug her gaze to him slowly, hoping this didn’t take long because her inbox was full and so was her plate.

“This is Steele Reeves; he works on the third floor taking care of our alcoholic beverages.”

The man that stood in front of her wore a killer smile, with a wide jaw and a hard part in his raven-colored hair. She would have said he was attractive but was sure he had a campaign going to tell the world about it himself.

If she had to market him, she would sale him as a typical frat boy turned marketing rep that knew how good looking he was. Typical playboy.

Ariel’s cry echoed from outside of the bathroom door and Emmie gave the noise a long sideway gaze.

“What’s going on in there?” Mitchel asked.

“They’re fine,” she said, coughing loudly when Ariel cried again, and offering her hand to the gentleman that didn’t think a handshake was necessary.

Steele reached forward and shook her hand, lingering a little too long for comfort, giving her a smile that she knew he thought would get her out of her panties, and said, “You can call me Steele, since I’ll be overseeing while Mitchel is away.”

Emmie let her hand drop, making a dramatic slap against her thigh. “An overseer?” she asked. “How long have you worked here?”

Steele’s smile widened and he elbowed Mitchel who begun to chuckle. “You were right.”

Emmie was too prideful to ask what he was right about, so she lifted her chin and urge Mitchel to answer with her hand.

“I’m going on vacation for two weeks, I’ve given Steele the responsibility—”

“What about our VP, Henry?” she asked.

Mitchel lowered his head. “He is out of town on a business trip. I’ve already made it official that Steele is going to oversee the place while we’re both away. Not that I think you would need help—”

“I don’t,” she said, giving Steele a sweet smile. “But I appreciate your time. Maybe if we need help getting something off the top shelf, we’ll call.”

Mitchel howled with laughter and slapped Steele on the back. Steele’s dark eyes watched her intently, his hands shoved into his expensive slacks with a cocky smirk. If she couldn’t see right through him, those eyes would have come close to eating her soul.

Who had eyes that dark? Satan?

“Well, have fun on your vacation, Mitchel; I have something to take care of that is time consuming.”

“Wait a minute,” Mitchel said. “How are things going here?”

“Good,” Emmie said, eyeing the bathroom door, willing both girls to stay put. “I’ve sent out our agenda, Laura is back to square one and Tara is bringing me something later today.”

“What about Ariel? Where is she?” Mitchel asked.

She opened her mouth to make up some bologna when the bathroom door swung opened and Jasmine and Ariel both walked out. Jasmine quickly answered the ringing phone, leaving Ariel standing with her mouth opened like a ten-year-old that just realized boys were cute.

Awkwardness slid over them like nails on a chalkboard.

“Ariel how is your pitch for Lady Cosmetic’s coming?” Mitchel asked.

Ariel’s eyes focused on Steele, and Emmie’s patience began to grow thin, until it became clear. It showed by the way he avoided Ariel's gaze…he was the one that didn't take her home.

For crying out loud…

Emmie couldn’t help to chuckle, which drew everyone’s attention. “Ariel had a very hard weekend, but she and I are sitting down this morning to figure this out. Ariel, you can meet me in my office.”

She looked at Emmie with thankful eyes. “Have a good day, Mr. Jones.”

Mitchel pulled his ringing phone from his pocket and held up a finger, stepping to the side to talk.

Emmie sighed, looking down at her watch, thinking about her mile long to-do list, and how trivial chitchat would not get her emails worked.

“One year,” he said.

She looked up from her watch to Steele, staring at her with a small smile. She would be a liar if she didn’t admit that he was good-looking. However, Emmie had never been the girl to trip over herself because of a man, and Steele Reeves wasn’t any different.

“One year what?” she asked.

He leaned in closer toward her, his woodsy scent hitting her soul. “I’ve been working here for one year.”

“Good for you,” she said, sarcastically. “I’ve been here four.”

“I can’t imagine why such a fun gal like you would have missed the Christmas party last year. You would have known I worked here, or maybe get out of your office or the second floor once in a while.”

Emmie glanced at the wall clock behind his head, not caring that he followed her gaze. Steele lifted his dark brows, stepped a little closer and leaned in to whisper, “She was sloppy drunk.”

“Who?” Emmie asked, dumbly.

Steele sucked his bottom lip into his mouth and let it pop dramatically. “You know who.”

“Listen,” she said, looking over her shoulder to see Mitchel animatedly talking on his phone. “You don’t have to defend yourself to me, because I couldn’t care any less. Maybe save the excuse for one of your office flings?”

“Ouch,” he said, placing his palm over his chest. Emmie noticed how his button-down stretched over his pecs and biceps with the movement. “You think so highly of me. Office flings?”

This guy must deem her completely clueless. She’d heard his name around the office and knew Laura had gone out with him a few times, and considered him a cuddy buddy, not to mention hurting Ariel’s feelings. His reputation was no secret.

“I work a lot, but I have ears. I’ve heard a few things about you that I would consider flaky. But like I said…it doesn’t matter to me.”

Steele let his head fall back and he laughed a deep chuckle that Emmie felt in her stomach. “Office player and flaky? Jeez, what a perspective you have.”

“Funny you should talk about perspective, because yours of yourself is a complete load of—”

“Sorry, that was my wife, woman drives me crazy," Mitchel said.

“That’s okay,” she smiled. “I have to go—”

“Did y’all get acquainted?” Mitchel asked.

Steele laughed. “You can call it that. I’m sure Ms. Lovely and I will have fun these two weeks. I’ll keep her in line.”

Mitchel liked to hear that. “Great. We’ll let you get back to work, keep up the good job.”

“See you soon,” Steele said, giving her a finger wave.

Emmie contemplated tossing Jasmine’s stamper at his head.

“Good riddance,” she mumbled.

Emmie walked back toward her office, listening to the sound of her shoes clicking against the tile and the distant sound of fingers on keyboards, when she heard a soft blubber.

She stopped in her tracks, turned and looked in the kitchen, seeing Tara and Jasmine hovering over a crying Ariel. Aggravated, Emmie swallowed the slews of grow up that lingered and walked inside, placing one hand on her slender hip.

“Ariel,” Emmie said nicely. She turned to look at Emmie, her mascara peppered her under eye, and her mouth turned down into a permanent pout. “Do you need to go home?”

She shook her head, leaned over and grabbed a napkin to blow her nose in from the depths of her purse. “No. I just…I need some coffee and I’ll be okay. Maybe we can push drinks up this week?”

She inwardly groaned. “It’s Monday,” Emmie said. “What are we, retired women of rich businessmen? Miami Wives? Where is my margarita, Julio?” she asked in a Spanish accent.

"Don't quite your day job," Tara said, giggling behind her coffee cup.

Jasmine gave Emmie a look that she took as give the girl a break, so she shrugged. “Okay, get cleaned up and we can get started on your pitch. And Ariel,” she said, “don’t waste another tear on that jerk.”

Ariel shrugged. “It was obvious it was him?”

Emmie nodded. “And it’s obvious he isn’t worth it.”

Tara leaned against the wall opposite of them and took a drink of her coffee. “He might not be worth the tears but worth that orgasm, I’m sure, have y’all not noticed his body? He could give Asgard a run for their money.”

Emmie couldn’t disagree because she'd just checked him out herself.

“Not helping,” Emmie said. “Have y’all not heard the rumors about him?”

Tara shrugged.

“We can talk about it over drinks tonight; right now we need to go back to work,” Emmie said.

Ariel stood up, took a huge breath, and tossed her napkin into the trash. “Okay, let’s get to work.”

Finally, some work on the horizon.

The workday was productive after their crazy morning. Emmie drove through lunch like usual, dismissing anyone that offered her anything. Her emails were clear by the end of the day, and most of the girls sent in their project ideas. It felt nice to leave work with an empty work desk.

Tara met her at her office door at five, knocking quietly to draw her attention. Jasmine and Ariel gathered their things behind her, which told Emmie they hadn’t invited Laura who slithered out a few moments earlier.

Not that she was upset; they stopped inviting her after she ditched them on several occasions to go home with random men.

“You ready, Boss?” Tara asked.

“Yep, just shutting down,” she said, turning off her laptop, and grabbing her purse. “I was actually dreading this but now I’m kind of glad that we’re going, I need something strong.”

They all walked out of the office together, locking their floor behind them and hiking the short distance downtown to grab drinks. The girl’s favorite place was The Woolworth. Their drinks varied; they had good service and an entire gluten free section for Jasmine.

The bar was full, which surprised Emmie because it was Monday night. They slipped onto their usual bar seats, Jasmine taking the liberty to flag down one of the servers, slipping him a twenty to keep their drinks coming.

They placed Emmie’s frozen Miami Sour down in front of her, and her mouth watered.

Her stomach rumbled as she took a sip and sat up straight to flag down another server. “Can I get some mozzarella sticks please?”

“Don’t taunt me with cheese sticks. I’m on an all-carb diet,” Jasmine said, mocking their favorite movie.

They laughed, and Emmie took a dive into her drink. Emmie didn’t care that she favored heavy liquor over the girlie drinks, she hadn’t always been the best at holding her liquor, but her tolerance grew over the last few years.

She could count on one hand how many times she’d been drunk.

Liquid courage could go a little too far with her, though, when she first landed the job as marketing manager, they celebrated with drinks. Apparently, she tried to get everyone to play strip poker, and there may or may not be an embarrassing video of her trying to fly off the bar at Apple Bees.

Jasmine elbowed Emmie on her second sip, eyes huge over her Apple Margarita, toward Ariel who just knocked down her second gin and tonic. “Ariel, we have to work tomorrow—”

“To hell with that jerk,” Ariel said, crossing her arms over her chest. “I can’t believe I fell for him. He seemed so interested and then didn’t even accept my friend request on Facebook.”

Tara widened her eyes. “Thirsty much?” she mumbled.

Emmie kicked her shin from underneath the table.

“After how long did you send him one?” Jasmine asked.

Ariel shrugged, tossing her hand up at their server from across the room. “When he first asked me to drinks.”

Not being able to help it, Emmie cringed.

Ariel tucked her dark hair behind her ear and furnished her a look. “What’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing, I—”

“Go ahead and spill it,” Jasmine said, turning her body to face Emmie. “Emmie is good with guys. She is the one that helped me get Ace’s attention. Tell her the truth.”

The server placed their appetizer down, and another drink in front of Ariel who tossed it back, gesturing toward Emmie’s half-full one. She took a drink of liquid encouragement and cleared her throat, snagging a cheese stick before leaning close so they could hear over the music.

“You can’t seem too available with a man, Ariel. Especially one that gets around his own workplace.”

Ariel cocked her head while Tara shook her own vividly at Emmie from behind the drink menu.

“He sleeps with a lot of girls at work?” Ariel asked. “I thought he was just a flirt?”

Crap. “I thought you knew? Remember when Laura had a sleeping buddy for a while? His name was…”

“Sneaky Steele,” she answered. “I didn’t put two and two together. Great, now I’ve been dumped by the office slut’s boy toy.”

“It’s over with,” Emmie said. “Don’t worry about him. After two weeks we’ll go back to not seeing him—”

Tara leaned forward. “What do you mean?”

Ariel tossed back another drink. “Do you want another drink too?” she asked her. Emmie needed something to get her through this therapy session without hurting Ariel’s feelings.

Two she could handle.

“Go ahead,” Emmie said.

Ariel looked around for their server, getting fed up, she hopped down and stumbled toward the bar. Emmie noticed she axed her heels and flopped around bare foot.

“That’s nasty,” Emmie said. “I can’t imagine who has thrown up on this floor. She’s going to get hep-c.”

“We should help her,” Tara said, half-heartedly. “Hey, what were you saying about after two weeks?”

Crossing her legs, Emmie slid her finger around the rim of her glass. “Mitchel is going to be gone for two weeks on vacation, so he made Steele his overseer.”

Tara scoffed. “How long has he been here? Two minutes?”

“Exactly,” Jasmine said checking her phone. “Ace will be home in thirty minutes, so that’s how long I have. He says I’m ovulating.”

“Lord, your husband wants some babies, Jas,” Emmie laughed.

She shimmed her shoulders. “I really don’t mind trying with him though.”

“I’ll bet,” Tara said.

Ariel stumbled over, running into Jasmine who almost spilled her drink. “Here you go,” she handed Emmie another glass.

Ariel sat down, tossed back her drink and a blubber came out.

“Ariel,” Jasmine said. “Snap out of it. Why are you so worried about a guy that you didn’t even do anything with?”

Ariel went to respond but she didn’t know.

“May I?” Emmie asked.

“By all means,” she said.

“Because he didn’t show interest in her, it makes a woman want a man more, just like it makes a man want a woman.”

Ariel slammed her fist on the table, rattling their glasses, catching glances from the table across from theirs.

“She is on meds,” Jasmine leaned over and whispered.

“If you’re so good with guys, why don’t you have one?” she asked.

“Easy,” Jasmine said finishing off her drink. “Because she is picky and works too hard.”

“Whatever,” Emmie hissed.

Tara laughed. “You are. You’re a great boss, but you’re always working or thinking about working. Plus, when guys come onto you, you always find a reason not to like them. Henry’s hands were too small, and Duke’s laugh was obnoxious.”

“I dated that Josh guy,” Emmie said proudly.

Jasmine pursed her lips. “What’s Josh’s last name?”

Emmie couldn’t help but laugh and take another sip over their chuckles. “Okay, but I can deal with a guy when I have time. I know throwing myself at him isn’t cute, don’t call him so soon or be persistence with texting and no Facebooking either.”

Ariel sighed and rested her head in her palm.

“You missed the best part,” Emmie said. “I think you should be prepared that he is overseeing the office while Mitchel is gone the next two weeks.”

Ariel groaned, looking up at the vaulted ceilings dramatically. “Great, now he can strut around the office knowing he has played all of the single girls. Gross. I think I want to take my vacation early.”

“No!” Tara shouted the same time as Jasmine.

“I agree, don’t try to avoid him. It’s lame,” Emmie said. “You go to work and be there proudly.”

“Why, so he can embarrass me? I wish someone would embarrass him,” she said.

Emmie took another drink, downing half of her second one. She understood her pain; she’d been played in high school once or twice. Embarrassment is the worst thing a person of the opposite sex can do to another.

Tara pointed to the ceiling. “I love this song!”

She started swaying and singing when Ariel nearly jumped out of her bar seat and slid her palms against the table. “Unless…”

Emmie stared at her over the rim of her whiskey, before taking a bite of her cheese stick.

“Unless what?” Jasmine asked, checking the time again.

Ariel sunk back a bit, bringing her hands into her lap, a slow Cheshire smile pulling at her lips. “Unless you date him.”

Her cheese stick caught in her throat, and Emmie slammed her fist down. “What?”

Jasmine laughed, rubbing her back until Emmie stopped coughing. “I can’t date him, Ariel. I think we just established that he isn’t worth anyone’s time.”

“No, no. You wouldn’t really date him. You would be playing him, as he does all his little girl friends at the office. You can play the player, sabotage his reputation with women,” she said, pointing her finger at Emmie.

“Did all that hairspray go to your head?” Emmie asked.

Emmie took another sip, trying to judge Jasmine and Tara’s reactions but no one seemed as disgusted as she did. “I can’t date him. He is the stereotypical wrong kind of guy, Ariel.”

“Exactly, that you see right through. Do this for us girls. Play the player,” she said.

Emmie shook her head slowly, imagining his cocky smile and a strut only an arrogant, self-righteous man would have. It didn’t sound like the worst thing she ever done, but it did sound like a waste of her time.

“Please,” Ariel said, sitting up on her knees, leaned in over the table.

She took another drink of liquid courage, knowing this was a bad idea, but for some reason bringing him down a notch did sound appealing. He smiled at her in a way that screamed he was better than her. Plus, that stupid laugh.

She could still hear it.

“I can’t Ariel. I’m a marketing manager, I can’t play a co-worker on a bet—”

“We wouldn’t tell,” Jasmine whispered.

Emmie snapped her attention to Jasmine. “Are you serious, Jas?”

She shrugged, gently shoving her shoulder. “I mean you don’t have a social life outside of us—”

“Hey!” she said, her slur catching up with her. “I do, too!”

“Hanging out with your bum brother and dog doesn’t count,” she said.

“Bocefus is a great dog, you take that back!”

Tara knocked her knuckles gently to get their attention. “I don’t see what it would hurt?” she offered. “He is a jerk. He hit on me once and I pretended I needed to poop to get away.”

They all laughed.

Silence took over their table and Emmie glanced around at everyone’s hopeful eyes, the wheels turning in her own head. For a brief moment, she entertained the thought of playing this guy, bringing him down a notch, but that would take too much work, plus she had a job to do.

And her second priority was getting her brother out of her apartment.

“I can’t,” she said.

Ariel groaned, tossing her hands in the air melodramatically. Jasmine reached out and grabbed her arms before she slammed them down onto the table. “They are going to kick us out of here if you keep trying to break their furniture.”

“Sorry, not sorry, y’all,” Emmie said with a shrug. “I love you guys, but you know work comes first for me.”

“Always,” Ariel mumbled.

Emmie wouldn’t apologize for wanting to do a good job at work. “Don’t make me go into the story of women oppression and how they didn’t get to work—”

“Please, no,” Tara said, holding her ears. “My ears will bleed.”

The pressure in the room began to slip away, which helped Emmie’s guilt of letting her friends down. What would it look like for their manager to take a bet and play some douchebag in their office?

Not like a manger.

“Well, it’s getting close to my bedtime,” Jasmine said.

Emmie took a drink, and watched Jasmine gather her things. “Is that what the kids are calling it nowadays?”

Jasmine leaned in and kissed her cheek.

“Actually, I think I’m going to head out with you. I have to look over some things before I go to bed, and we all know I’m up with the chickens.”

Ariel booed her. “I can’t believe you won’t play this guy. You are the only person here that can do it.”

“Boo-hoo,” Emmie said, leaning over to kiss her cheek and wave bye to Tara.

She walked out of the bar and into the moonlit street with Jasmine. Ace sat in front of the bar in his truck, waving toward them.

“You want us to take you home?”

“Nah, I’ve already texted an Uber, thanks though. I’m glad we did this tonight.”

Jasmine turned to Ace and put up a finger. “You should play this guy.”

“Jasmine,” she said. “I think we’ve all established he isn’t worth anyone’s time.”

“Sure,” Jasmine said. “But he needs to be brought down. I saw him hitting on Clara the other night. Plus, he made Ariel cry.”

“Come on, I love Ariel and you do too, but I’m sure he isn’t the first guy that has made her cry.”

Jasmine smirked. “True, but I think you should think about it.”

Emmie’s Uber honked and she turned to walk toward him. “Thinking about it,” she yelled over her shoulder.

“Heifer.”

“A non-betting, single, happy heifer,” Emmie said.