Stocks and Lies by C.N. Marie

1
 DAWSON

 Jundid the top button from my designer white shirt and loosened
 the tie from around the collar of my neck, allowing it to fall
 over my shoulders as I shook the stiffened luxury fabric open. It
 felt like heaven as I ran my fingers around my neckline, grateful for the
 reprieve – the escape. I hoped it would help cool me down quicker, but it
 didn't. Instead, the sweat was determined to perfuse from my pores and
 cling to the fabric.
 I dived for the pitcher of lemon infused water that had been placed onto
 my mahogany desk in front of me and poured a large glass full. I pulled the
 glass towards my dry lips whilst I swiped my tongue across the top to
 moisten them before I gulped down the water, letting it trickle down my
 throat in waves of cool freshness. I gulped the contents down like I had
 been stuck in the Sahara Desert for days, unknowing when I would taste the
 glorious liquid again, without even stopping for a breath. I was greedy and
 desperate with an unknown bout of thirst. It didn’t help that the air-con was
 broken. Someone really needed to sort out the damn heat in this place.
 “Ah, I needed that,” I gasped into the empty room, grabbing my breath
 back in short sharp bursts as I wiped my mouth with a serviette. Candy, my
 assistant, had actually remembered to have them placed with the jug this
 time. 
Last time I had to remind her about the importance of the damn things.
 It was all about the detail with clients, one wrong move and they’d search
 for a weakness. In business, that game was to be avoided wherever possible.
 Candy had a sharp mind, but the simple amenities seemed a struggle for her

to remember at times. It caused her to feel she always had to apologize.
 Maybe that was because the assistant prior to her managed all but four days
 before she ran crying from my office. I couldn't help the fact the pressure
 got to her. It wasn't easy being my assistant, I’d even made it clear at the
 bloody interview. Typical fucking staff. I tell you; you can't find good ones.
 Fucking weather. The weather in the United Kingdom was the bane of
 my life. I was able to cope with most things since I’d started living here, but
 this drove me goddamn crazy. You would think after three years I'd be used
 to it, but nope. It could be freezing one day, and a bloody heat wave the
 next; the broadcaster rarely predicted it correctly. Just like today, it was
 forecasted to rain, hence my heavy signature woolen jacket. But the blazing
 hot sun had hit the sky instead. Seriously, how wrong can they get it?
 I owned ‘The RP’ conglomerate, a hotel chain spread far and wide,
 which meant expensive suits were needed daily – a prized bitch for a day
 like this, when the sweat cascaded down me in buckets. Thankfully, the coat
 could be discarded, but I was known for the suit. The particular look I had
 enforced around the office, especially when client meetings were scheduled
 throughout the day. Authority showed both in the way you spoke to
 someone and in the way you dressed; without authority, you were a
 laughing stock in this game. Some may have called me a ruthless twat
 behind closed doors, even better if they had the nerve to do it to my face. It
 would have taken guts, but I'd rather that than someone be a pushover. I
 wouldn't be where I am today otherwise.
 At least this afternoon my meetings seemed less packed than normal – I
 only had Tye Renton, my joint business partner popping in for a board
 review, then a couple architecture and evaluation meetings. Boring, but
 necessary in the span of my working week. A breeze, if I did say so myself.
 What I would fucking give for the hint of one now.
 I slammed the phone buzzer with my index finger and leant over the
 desk, waiting impatiently for Candy to answer the call. She’d better not be
 slacking. Give me strength. 
“You just can't get good staff, nowadays,” I seethed under my breath
 like a cranky wounded bitch waiting to take their next hit. 
I needed someone reliable to undertake my daily tasks. Candy was
 already on thin ice as it stood, but she’d coped well with my outbursts so
 far. Somehow, she’d also managed to get Tye singing her praises and
 wrapped around her little finger, or more likely his dick.

Stocks and Lies by C.N. Marie