Dear Wicked Boss

3. A Very Drunk Boss.

I fixed my hair as best as I could. I loved the new color. I had gone to the salon, taking advantage of the fact that my annoying boss had left work early, which was unusual, and I managed to sneak away for a few hours. The once dull light brown was now brightened with beautiful golden highlights. My green eyes, big as my mother used to say, sparkled. I liked the reflection staring back at me.

My phone rang while I was putting on makeup, trying not to overdo it since I wasn’t very good at it. My strengths lay in terms, words, and on a good day, numbers. I also liked writing, but when it came to aesthetics, I was pretty hopeless.

I smiled upon seeing my boyfriend’s smile on the caller ID. It was a picture of us from a trip to Disney in Orlando last year. It goes without saying that it was the best trip of my life.

"Cari, I know I'm running late," I murmured as I picked up. "Just give me five minutes, and I'll be ready."

"Cari" was a diminutive of "darling," which we often used when we were in a hurry.

"Are you already getting ready?" he asked, making me stop immediately. His voice didn't sound like a man excited to see his girlfriend.

No, I wasn’t going to do this again.

"Yes, you said you’d pick me up at seven," I said, staring at my reflection in the mirror. I was no longer smiling, the girl looking back at me was genuinely angry.

"I'm sorry, cari, but something came up, and I can’t pick you up."

"What do you mean? Do you want to meet at the restaurant?" I said, trying to play dumb.

"No, what I mean is that I can't go to dinner with you tonight. Dad asked me to go over some accounting notebooks, and I’ll be stuck here all night."

That was the third time I’d heard that. The first was three weeks ago when he promised to take me to the opening of the contemporary art museum, but he had a mishap with his car. The second was a week later when he said we’d go see the Star Wars movie he loved, but something happened with the elevators, and he couldn't make it. The week after that, he didn’t even bother making plans since he was traveling with his dad.

"Dustin, I’m ready!" I exclaimed angrily. "Didn’t it occur to you to tell me earlier? And this is the third time this month you’ve left me hanging!"

I also had plenty of work; I didn’t have the luck of having my dad as my boss, but I always made time for him. After all, we had been dating for four years; it was the least he could do.

"I'm really sorry, babe. I promise we’ll go out Saturday. You know I just became the manager, and..."

"I know you’re busy with the company, but the least you can do is carve out some time to see your girlfriend. It’s been a month since we’ve seen each other!" I exclaimed, truly angry with him.

"What if we spend the night at my house next week? Dad promised he won’t get me into any trouble again, we can watch movies, you know, like the old times."

I sighed and sat on the stool, two hours getting ready for nothing. Now I couldn’t even see the lovely makeover I had done for him.

"Fine, but this is the last time I forgive you for canceling at the last minute. I even wore that thong that..."

"s**t!" he exclaimed. "I’m sorry, babe, I have to go. I’ll call you tomorrow."

And with that, he hung up.

I threw my phone on the bed and stared at the plush purple carpet in my room, trying to remember the last time I had s*x with my boyfriend. It had only been a month since we’d seen each other, but we had gone much longer without intimacy, as our previous encounters were just for a couple of hours in public places. I would have liked to say that our distance was due to his new position as manager at his dad’s travel agency, but it wasn’t. Even before, things had been bad.

We’d been together for four years, but the last year had been my least favorite. He was always busy, and with my new demanding job as Evans Garret’s assistant, things got much worse. We had grown apart to the point where we didn’t even know what it felt like to make love anymore.

"I thought you were ready!" Dalia exclaimed as she entered my room.

"He canceled, again," I said, letting my shoulders droop in disappointment. I really wanted to see him today. I had put on provocative lingerie just to rekindle the passion that seemed lost between us.

"How strange," she murmured sarcastically. She leaned against the dresser and shook her head as she looked at me. "Is this... the third time he’s done this?"

"Just this month, last month, he stood me up once too," I grumbled.

"Haven’t you thought that maybe he has someone else?"

I opened my eyes wide.

"No!"

"Why not? Dustin is a man, dear, it wouldn’t be strange at all."

"He’s not like that," I insisted nervously.

"He has a p***s, so yes, he is."

I frowned at my sister-in-law's comment.

"He’s the new manager of the company..."

"That’s what he tells you," she interrupted, looking oddly serious. "Investigate on your end."

I was about to respond when my phone rang again. I jumped up and ran to the bed, hoping it was Dustin, telling me he had changed his mind and was coming to pick me up. That would shut Dalia up and stop her from making assumptions about my boyfriend that weren’t true.

But it wasn’t him, it was my boss.

"From the look on your face, I assume it’s not him," she said, giving me a lackluster smile.

I frowned, which she noticed.

"It’s my boss."

"Doesn’t he know when work hours end?" she asked, frowning as well. She knew how unbearable my boss was. I had told her everything to avoid exploding.

"I’m going to answer before I go crazy," I added, annoyed and indignant. He didn’t know when to stop. I was his employee, his right hand, but not his slave. He couldn’t even respect my evenings. He already consumed enough of my weekends, and now he wouldn’t even let me sleep because when Mr. Garret called, it was never for something trivial, but for something long and tedious.

"Tell him to go to hell," my sister-in-law said as she left my room, but I ignored her. If I did that, I’d be out of a job, and despite everything, I really liked the company I worked for. I also liked the pay.

I picked up the phone before I could regret it.

"Good evening, Mr. Garret," I greeted, my tone unenthusiastic.

But it wasn’t my boss who spoke.

"Is this Ms. Angela?" asked a man whose voice I didn’t recognize.

"Um, yes."

"I’m the owner of La Rivera bar. Evans is here, drunk as hell, and since you’re the only contact he has in favorites, I decided to call you to come get him."

"Wait, Evans Garret?"

"Who else? This guy is crazy, really. He’s drunk a whole bottle of whiskey by himself, which is nearly impossible for most people."

"I’m on my way, don’t let him leave alone."

"Hurry, sweetheart, or I’m going to have to call the cops. He’s been eyeing several customers in a way that makes me think he wants to start a fight."

"Don’t worry, I’m already on my way. Just hold him for a few minutes."

I started searching the floor for my flat shoes. They always got in my way, but when I urgently needed them, they decided to hide. Damn it. I crawled under the bed and found one. I kept looking until I remembered that my niece liked to play with adults' shoes. I headed to her room but found them halfway down the hall, thrown on the floor.

I put them on, grabbed my keys and purse, and dashed out of my house. I didn’t even tell my mother or anyone else that I was leaving. I just bolted out as if I had a rocket up my backside. When I got to the street, I stopped a taxi since I didn’t have my own car and directed the driver to the address the man had given me over the phone.

It was in a rough part of New York, which was strange. Evans always went to the best places, reserving spots in the most exclusive restaurants. His hotel rooms were always suites, he never went to a concert or event unless it was VIP. Why had he gone to drink at a dive bar in the middle of Brooklyn? Who was he hiding from?

It was sad to think that I, of all people, was the only one in his favorites. On the way to the bar, as I watched the city pass by, I realized I must be the only constant in my boss’s life. I had never seen him with anyone—neither his mother, father, sister, or any other family. He didn’t have friends either, but that could also be because he spent all his time working.

I was the only one there when he needed help, and he treated me like the worst. No wonder he was so lonely if he treated everyone like that.

The car stopped a few minutes later in front of the bar. I paid, which wasn’t cheap, and quickly got out. The bar had a neon sign that read "Rivera," which struck me as funny, he had ended up in a bar with my last name. Upon entering, I realized the place was very different from the ones my boss usually frequented.

Several men were drinking, the tables were old wooden ones, and there wasn’t even a tablecloth to cover them. The smell was heavy, and the atmosphere was tense. I didn’t like this place at all.

A burly man approached me as soon as he saw me enter. He was only wearing jeans and an olive-green t-shirt, with a dish towel slung over his shoulder, so I assumed he was the bartender.

"Angela?" he asked, looking me up and down.

I nodded, feeling uncomfortable.

"I’m the one who called. He’s at the back, doesn’t want to stop drinking, and I have no idea how to stop him without throwing punches," he said, pointing to the far end of the bar, where it was nearly dark, where my boss was.

"Thanks for calling. I’ll take care of it," I said, leaving the man standing at the entrance after he handed me the phone and making my way toward my boss.

Seeing him like that, so vulnerable, alone, and drunk, shocked me for a moment. I had to stop walking to make sure it was really him and that I wasn’t confusing him with another Evans Garret because he looked like two different people. My boss would never behave like this, he was rude and grumpy most of the time, but also very elegant and polished. To be honest, the ordinary one of the two had always been me.

I approached him slowly, but he didn’t see me for a few seconds because he was too focused on growling at the guy at the neighboring table, who was glaring back at him. If I didn’t intervene soon, my boss was going to start a fight, and in his state, considering the burly figure of the other guy, he wasn’t going to win.

I sat next to him at the table, and he started to grumble as soon as he saw me. His eyes lingered on me for a long while, blinking to see if he was really seeing me. Oh yes, he was seeing perfectly well.

"Ms. Patterson," he greeted, slurring his words. "What are you doing here?"

"I came to get you," I said, trying to take the whiskey glass from his hand, but he had a tight grip on it. "You can’t keep drinking like this."

"Who says?"

"I do..."

"You? A lowly secretary is going to tell me what I can do?" he asked, snorting. "I’m the king of this damn state! I can drink whatever I want."

With anger, I managed to snatch the glass from his hands.

"Please, let’s go to your place so you can sleep and eat something."

"You know what, Angela? You’re the best secretary I’ve ever had. You’re tidy, smart, cunning, but you lack character," he murmured drunkenly.

My eyebrows shot up in obvious annoyance. I didn’t know whether to feel flattered because he was finally saying nice things about me or angry because he thought I lacked character. I was an adult woman, of course I had character!

"Oh, really?"

"You’ve never talked back to me, and I’m an asshole to you," he laughed, but I didn’t find it funny. "Sometimes I wish you’d stop being so sweet, it’d be more fun if you didn’t pout after I scolded you."

I swallowed the lump in my throat at his words. Beyond feeling hurt, I was also very angry with him. I had been his assistant for six long months, had done more work in that time than the entire company combined, bought his lunch, had his clothes and car cleaned, did the things he thought were "embarrassing" for him, kept his secrets, tolerated his annoying lovers, and endured the screams of l**t and anger from his mistresses. Not to mention that I had run to find him in a dive bar when he was drowning his sorrows.

And he never said thank you, "please," or even "sorry for being such an asshole." The nicest thing I had heard come out of his mouth about me was now, when he was saying I was a good secretary but felt sorry for treating me badly. What kind of jerk was he? And why didn’t I just leave him here and go home to sleep? After all, I wasn’t on the clock. I didn’t have to serve him like a slave.

But I was a good person; my parents raised me to be patient and not hold grudges.

"You’re very drunk and don’t know what you’re saying," I argued, trying to calm the situation. Arguing with a drunk man, especially my boss, was not going to lead to anything good.

"I know exactly what I’m saying," he smiled, and I had to resist the urge to sigh. His hand went to my neck, pulling me towards him, catching me off guard, his mouth was inches from mine. "If you didn’t look like an abandoned puppy and didn’t wear those boring clothes, I’d really be interested in f*****g you."

He let go of me after that, and I had to catch my breath to calm my breathing. What had that been? I was torn between feeling humiliated, hurt, or a little excited because, despite everything, he had thought about sleeping with me. However, it was clear he didn’t like me, at least not my character or how I dressed.

What was wrong with how I dressed? It’s not like I was going to work in yoga pants and t-shirts. I wore what all secretaries wore, a pencil skirt and a buttoned-up blouse. I wasn’t the sexiest woman in the world, but I’d never considered myself ugly either. Still, in some way, hearing a man like Evans Garret say that about me hurt deeply.

I took a deep breath and got up from the table before doing something stupid, like crying or confessing that, despite everything, I had fantasies about him involving s*x. "I’m going to get you some water to sober you up." He opened his mouth to complain, but I didn’t let him. "And you’re not going to argue because I’m not in the mood to put up with more of your comments. You want a secretary with character? Fine! You’re going to keep your damn mouth shut while I get you some water and drag you out of here."

A slow, drunken smile spread across his face, lighting up his eyes. I smoothed my clothes and tried to pull myself together. I hadn’t wanted to speak to him like that, but honestly, I was fed up. Not every secretary would drop everything to go fetch their boss from a seedy bar, the least I deserved was not to be insulted or criticized about my personality. He could go to hell!

He raised his hands in acceptance, so I headed to the bartender to ask for some water. He was at the far end of the bar, serving a beer to another customer. It was incredible he was still selling alcohol to men who were already quite drunk.

Halfway there, a man approached, blocking my path and stopping me. It was the same guy from the next table, the one who seemed eager to pick a fight with my boss. A drunken grin lit up his face, and I immediately knew he was going to be trouble.

“Looking for something, princess?” he asked with a creepy friendliness. He wasn’t exactly ugly, but he had a scruffy appearance, with a greasy face and an unkempt, dirty beard.

“Not anything you can help me with, but thanks,” I replied with a weak, fake smile.

His yellow-toothed grin told me he hadn’t noticed my discomfort. He was also quite drunk, unable to stand without swaying.

What kind of bar had my boss dragged me into?

“I can get you whatever you want,” he said, invading my personal space. “How about a quickie in the alley?”

I let out a laugh, surprised and incredulous at his proposal. Was he serious or just joking? I quickly realized he wasn’t kidding when he placed his hand on my waist. I pulled away as best I could, no longer amused by the situation, especially not with that i***t touching me.

I bumped into a hard chest behind me, but I didn’t need to turn around to know who it was. I recognized that cologne, I’d bought it for him a couple of times.

“Get the hell away from her!” he ordered harshly, addressing the man in front of me.

The burly man stopped looking at me and focused on my boss, who looked quite angry.

“Is she your woman?”

“That’s none of your damn business,” he replied, and I was surprised by his ability to curse despite being so drunk. “If you don’t back off, I’m going to break your face.”

The man laughed like it was a joke. I could feel the tension and testosterone in the air, making me even more uncomfortable. No one had ever fought over me before, and I hadn’t witnessed many fights in my life either. I wasn’t eager to witness one now. But Evans looked so furious, trembling with anger, and that was not a good sign because the man in front of me wasn’t a saint either. From the moment I arrived, it was clear they didn’t like each other, and I was just the perfect excuse for a fight.

“Screw you.”

My boss shoved me to the side, which annoyed me. However, I didn’t have the courage to say anything, he was too busy locked in a staring contest with his opponent to pay attention to me.

“I’m not into men,” Evans responded mockingly. “But if that’s what you’re into, there are plenty of guys to choose from.”

“Mr. Garret, please…”

“What did you just say, you piece of crap?” the bearded man yelled, interrupting me.

I couldn’t say anything else because they immediately started a shouting match that caught the attention of the entire bar. I looked to the bartender for help, but he was already heading toward us with a baseball bat in hand. I wanted to warn Evans about what was happening, but my boss was about to punch his opponent, ignoring everything around him.

“I don’t want any fights in my bar,” the bartender growled. “If you idiots want to fight, do it outside. And don’t forget to pay the bill!”

Evans nodded, and the other guy did too, which surprised me since they had been ignoring me until then. My boss rummaged through his pockets and handed me his wallet along with his keys. Then, he took off his jacket and gave it to me too. “Take care of this and pay the bill. This will be quick.”

“Please don’t fight…”

“Shhh,” he said, placing his index finger on my lips. “This i***t messed with the wrong person. He needs to learn a lesson.”

He didn’t let me say anything else. The two of them walked out of the bar, followed by a group of customers eager to watch the fight. I headed outside too, but the bartender stopped me because Evans hadn’t yet paid for the bottle. While swiping my boss’s credit card, I glanced outside, hearing the shouts of excitement.

Why was this taking so long?

“If you’ll take some advice, stay out of the fight,” the bartender said while charging me. “They’re just two idiots blowing off steam.”

I didn’t respond. I simply waited for the card to be returned and ran outside like a bat out of hell. Evans and the bearded guy were hitting each other, both with fury, as if they had been lifelong enemies.

Everything happened quickly, Evans was very agile, while the other man was too slow. My boss was too focused on annihilating him, so he threw a direct punch to his face. It connected with a sickening sound, and I didn’t need to see the blood pouring from his nose to know it was broken. He didn’t fall back due to his bulk, instead, he retaliated with force.

His blow landed on Evans' stomach, causing him to double over in pain. It takes great strength to endure such a hard punch to the nose and still hit back harder. I stepped closer to intervene, but one of the few women outside stopped me. With nothing else to do, I shouted Evans' name over and over, pleading for him to stop, but he ignored me.

When I got up this morning, I went to work and endured my boss's wonderful and charming personality. I never thought it would end like this, in the middle