My boyfriend has some serious problems.
But I never thought he’d turn to his boss to solve them!
This one is off-the-charts crazy and ridiculous between our innocent virgin and the alpha billionaire who always gets what he wants. But if you"re looking for a good time, then this book is gonna satisfy that craving. As always, read with an ice cold drink nearby because you"re going to need it! :) Love, Cassie and KendallBooks by Author:Cassandra Dee BooksKendall Blake Books
"Daisy, I don"t know how much clearer I can be. You can"t pick up any more shifts this week. You can"t work more than forty hours. It"s company policy."
I rubbed my temples and cradled the phone between my ear and shoulder. The television blared from the living room with some wrestling show that seemed to be more trash talking than actual fighting.
"Girl," my fathered hollered from his recliner. "Get me another beer."
I ignored him as I took stock of the refrigerator. "Mr. Herndon, it only puts me over for one hour. I can clock out for that hour and still work. Please."
"And what happens if you get hurt"" he demanded. "What happens if a supervisor comes in" How are you going to work the register if you aren"t logged in" I"m sorry, Daisy. I can"t help you. See you next week."
He hung up before I could argue my case any further. My heart sank a little and I closed my eyes. I"d had to use some of the money set aside for rent to pay for the overdue electric bill instead"before it got shut off. Without that extra shift, we"d really be scraping by.
"Girl!" my father yelled again. "My beer!"
Tossing the phone on the counter, I grabbed the bottle of beer and twisted off the top. We"d be in much better shape if my father didn"t drink all of our money away. Before I turned eighteen, I stashed cash around the house in an effort to hide it, but that turned out to be a horrible decision. My father always found the money and spent it before the bills could get paid. Now, I had a bank account, but my father demanded that his name go on it as well.
If he didn"t spend hundreds of dollars on beer and whiskey a month, we"d be doing just fine.
"Here you go, Daddy," I said softly and handed the beer to him. He barely took his eyes off the screen as he reached up and grabbed it from my hand. "How was your day""
"Shitty. How do you think my day was" I swear, sometimes you"re as stupid as your mother," he growled. "Did you bring some dogs home for dinner""
Plucking at the worn threads on the tattered green recliner, I tried to smile. "Sorry, Daddy. No hot dogs tonight. I reached my limit of freebies yesterday, remember"" Along with my minimum wage that really didn"t support us, the Fry and Grill let me have free food too"only we weren"t supposed to be bringing them home. Normally, the managers didn"t say anything, but when Jerry was working, he kept a sharp eye on what we walked out with.
"Ridiculous," grunted my dad. "What"s the point of you working down there if you can"t feed me"" He reached for the remote to turn up the television, and I bit my lower lip. It wasn"t exactly a dream job. The place was crap; my employers were mostly stoners, two of my three managers tried on an hourly basis to get in my pants, and I walked home every night dressed in red and yellow stripes and smelling like a grease pan. Still, I got to meet new people every day, and that was nice.
"So what"s for dinner"" my father asked, not even lifting his eyes from the screen.
"I thought that we"d have breakfast for dinner. Scrambled eggs. Toast. I"ll fry up some ham to go with it," I said brightly as I leaned down to kiss him on the cheek. "How does that sound""
"Sounds like shit. I want steak."
"Daddy, we don"t have any steak," I reminded him quietly. The truth was that we barely had anything in the refrigerator except eggs, a few sandwich fixings, and beer. The pantry only had ramen, so after my father got his dinner, I"d boil one egg with some ramen for my own dinner to make our last few dollars spread a little further.
My father tipped the beer back and shrugged. "Whatever. I"m hungry."
"Coming right up." I headed back to the kitchen to start dinner. As I cracked a few eggs in a bowl and started scrambling them, the phone rang. Picking up the old-fashioned landline, I prayed that it wasn"t a debt collector. "Hello""
"Daisy"" came a nasally female voice. I instantly winced. "It"s Rosaria. I want to talk to you father."
"Of course, Rosaria. Nice to hear from you." I gingerly tapped some salt onto the eggs, and stuck my head around the corner. "Daddy, it"s for you."
He picked up the cordless next to the chair, and I closed the door before hanging up the phone. The last thing my night needed was to listen to my father talk to his girlfriend.
Because Rosaria hated me. I knew the reason even if it didn"t quite make sense. My father had apparently been handsome and popular in high school. As a talented football player, he had everything going for him. Colleges were lining up to recruit him until he got my mother pregnant. Their shotgun wedding took one second, and all other women were shut out of his life. Unfortunately, Rosaria never got over her high school crush, and resented my mother for her interference. And by extension, me.