“That’s not what I’ve heard,” I tease, and Harry snorts. He claims to be a ladies-man love machine, but I have more than a sneaking suspicion that’s all talk and some serious next-level self-aggrandizing. He’s a good guy, though, and he doesn’t take anything too seriously.
“Yeah, well, hope you’ve got another doozy cooked up,” Larry says. “My latest game’s gonna have me taking your shine soon enough.”
I laugh and head to my cubicle. I’ve finally gotten it exactly the way I want, with triple screens that allow me to code, visualize, and debug all at the same time.
I immediately pull up my next project, an ambitious attempt at totally integrating calendars, social media, and office apps that could turn the whole damn system on its head.
I need to focus because the coding on this is going to be tricky. Integrating all these systems is easy. Doing it without turning someone’s smartphone into a brick that works at the speed of a turtle? That’s tricky.
As I work, I know I should be focusing on code. Every line has to be correct and every phrase has to be perfect. I can’t have any mistakes or any clogs. But instead, my mind keeps wandering back to my phone conversation with Derrick.
The conversation had been nice until it got a little too heated. I mean, he had me half moaning even before he said what he did. I can’t believe I just bailed like that.
Sure, I know I was a total coward, but I truly wasn’t expecting it and I didn’t know what to say. Especially since all of my blood was rushing to my neglected pussy, making me squirm around in my seat and tempting me to pull over right then to take matters into my own hands once again. I was this close to telling him exactly what I needed.
Face it, Kat, you wanted to, my mind tells me. In fact, you wanted him to be there, his silky voice telling you what to do, talking you through every action as his eyes watched you with rapt attention.
Shaking my head, I try to get back to work, putting in hour after hour of work and making little progress. Coding is a lot like speaking a foreign language. For some people, those folks who get paid big bucks, they can translate on the fly, able to listen in one language and talk in another almost instantaneously.
Others, like me, might be just as fluent in both languages but can’t operate in both at the same time. So for me, coding means I have to put my brain in ‘code mode’ to really get in the groove.
Just as my left-hand monitor flashes me a signal that it’s noon and time for lunch, my phone rings. It’s my sister Jessie, who’s learned to never, ever call me during my work hours unless someone important is dying.
Jessie’s always been like a second mom to me. Eight years older, we never really had that period when she was a teen where she thought taking care of her little sister was a pain in the ass. Instead, she looked out for me, making sure I got my schoolwork done and never letting me veer too far off the path into crazy.
She’s not some stick in the mud though. Actually, the first time I ever got drunk was with Jessie, and we both have had plenty of good laughs along the way. With hair two shades darker than mine and another three inches on me, she’s beautiful and a stellar wife and mom, all the while holding down a full-time job as a risk management specialist for an insurance company.
She’s truly Super Woman and everything I want to be when I grow up, whenever that’ll be. With my new promotion, I’m at least halfway there, the professional success coming more readily than the personal. “What’s up in the land of vehicle recall calculations?” I ask her. “Got anything that’ll blow up in my face?”
“Very funny,” Jess says with a laugh. “Actually, I called to say congrats on work and your promotion. Good job, Sis. I knew you could do it. Acing it at work, and on the home front too? How’s Kevin?”
I wonder for a split second if she can read my mind, the professional-personal discrepancy coming out of her mouth just a beat after it crossed my mind. I can tell she doesn’t care but feels like she should ask.
“What about Kevin?” I ask, trying to not sound snippy. Hell, maybe I should listen to her more because she was spot-on with him and has been right before about boyfriends too. “There is no more Kevin.”
“What do you mean?” she asks, and I tell her about our breakup, leaving out the issues with our sex life and focusing on his cheating and my not putting up with it.