The weekend flew by in a blur of work and sex, Gwendolyn and I spending almost every free moment together, and before I knew it, it was Monday morning and I was waking up alone in my van, covered in hickeys, exhausted, and utterly satisfied in a way I'd never known possible. I had managed to cancel on Frank's Friday afternoon meeting, claiming that I lost satellite coverage with the Starlink, and that I'd catch up with him this week instead.
I wasn't sure how much longer I could string him along, but I was hoping that I could at least ship the code to fix his performance issues before he got so angry he cut me off. I guess we'd just have to see. I began the morning by making my usual commute in to the coffee shop, rewarding the early morning caffeine seekers with a "No Bra" version of my chest while I grabbed my usual large caramel latte and breakfast sandwich. I could tell they appreciated it by the way the male barista dropped a cup of coffee. It was morning and I was yawning and stretching. It's not my fault, right?
Finishing my breakfast sandwich, I took another sip of the latte and smiled. Today was going to be a great day, I could feel it in my bones. I'd get a lot of coding done, I'd get my apartment rented, and then I'd go see my girlfriend and we'd fuck each other's brains out. The phone rang and I grabbed it, answering quickly, "Hello?"
"Uh, hello, is this Tim Weber's phone?" Fuck, that was Frank's voice. In horror, I glanced down and realized I'd picked up my old body's phone when it rang, thinking it was the new phone and Gwendolyn calling. Oh boy. Here we go.
"Hello, yes, this is Tim's phone," I said, trying to muster a professional sounding voice. "How can I help you?"
"Huh, I didn't know he had a girlfriend. Didn't think he was the type. Well, this is Frank, his boss calling. Can I speak with him, please?" Frank, you aren't my boss, you're my client. Big difference. Also, rude!
"Ah, I think there's a misunderstanding, I'm Tiffany, his business partner," I tried to politely correct, definitely not grinding my teeth.
"Oh, sorry about that. Look, Tiffany. I need you to get Tim on the phone for me, okay? I'm glad he's doing well enough that he's hired a secretary, but the code quality over the last week has slipped and my own engineers are telling me there's no way he can meet the deadline. We need that new algorithm."
"Excuse me, I am not a secretary," I snapped back.
"Okay, my apologies. Executive assistant. My own EA gets snippy if I get that confused, so I get it. Look, we need Tim focused again. Is there anything we can do to help get his head back in the game? Anything you can do that we might be able to assist you with?" Frank continued, absolutely unapologetic for calling me a secretary. As if.
"I'm not sure what you're asking me here, Frank," I said, puzzled by the direction the conversation was going.
"Look, I'm just saying, maybe if you want to take Tim out to a fancy dinner, explain things from our perspective and ensure he understands the critical nature of the timeline? And if you want to expense the dinner, maybe throw in a nice dress for yourself, a hotel room, we'd be happy to cover it. We've all seen what stress does to Tim and I just want you to keep him motivated."
"Are you asking me to sleep with him?" I was shocked. What the fuck, Frank.
"Not at all, I think you're misunderstanding me here. It's just that it's vital to our shareholders that Tim fixes these code quality issues, we're losing millions of dollars in sub-optimal trading patterns, and we're open to any number of possibilities, even unconventional ones that don't have line item purchase orders, in order to get Tim back operating at full performance. A blank check, if it makes him happy, so to speak."
Yeah, he was absolutely asking me to fuck Tim to get him to code better. Too bad he didn't know that I was getting laid. A lot. And it wasn't helping my coding skills at all.
"I'll talk to him and make your perspective known, and I'll see if there's anything that I can do to help ensure he meets your timelines. Speaking of, however, he did hire me to handle all future phone and video calls going forward, so that he could focus on coding, and I'd like to ensure that you and I have a good working relationship."
"Absolutely, Tiffany, I think you and I can work well to bridge the gap between our firm and Tim, and I look forward to future calls. Do you mind if I set up a video chat for later this week?"
Shrugging, I agreed, and we went back and forth with a little small talk before ending the conversation. My work just got more complicated. On one hand, I'd solved the problem of dodging video calls with Frank. On the other hand, I now had to juggle two personalities when talking to Frank - the person I looked like, and the person I used to be. And I still had to fix his fucking algorithm, too. Ugh. Well, I was absolutely going to take him up on his offer and buy myself a little black dress, take Gwendolyn out for an eye-poppingly expensive dinner, reserve a penthouse suite at the Oxford Hotel Bend, and she could finger me into oblivion as I pressed my nude body against the glass, overlooking the city. Perfect date night.
Oh, sorry, was that too graphic? Well, I mean, I'm just being honest about my feelings. It's what Fiona would want me to do, and I doubt Frank would mind. I should probably check dates with Gwendolyn before I booked the reservation though, but I'll definitely tell her tonight. I should swing by after she gets off work and let her know.
Setting the phone to the side, I started to search for apartments on my computer. I had a somewhat vague list of goals. I wanted it to be ideally walking distance from Gwendolyn's, but worst case a short bike ride. I wanted it to have amenities within walking distance like coffee and lunch spots, for when I needed breakfast or a break from coding. And I wanted to be able to get from my apartment to at least moderate mountain bike trails without having to use my van. Maybe I'd sell the van? Nah, I liked it too much. But I definitely was looking forward to spending less time in the van, as weird as that sounded.
The next hour went by in a blur of websites and phone calls, ruling out option after option while placing a very few into my 'possibles' list. By the time lunch rolled around, I had narrowed it down to three different complexes, two of them only having a single apartment that fit my requirements, the third having two different candidates. I picked up lunch at a fast food restaurant, swinging by the first apartment complex as I finished eating the burger. I didn't even need to get out of the van, the satellite footage and marketing photos had been a lie, and I put the van back in gear and drove to the second one.
The second complex looked perfect. My apartment was an end unit, three stories with two parking spots. The ground floor had a living room and kitchen, the second floor had two bedrooms, and the third had a third bedroom and a multi-purpose room. It was a five minute walk from Gwendolyn's apartment and only two miles from an awesome trail head. The saleswoman tried to pressure me into signing on the spot, and I almost did, but I left a deposit and promised her that I had to look at the third complex, but my heart was here.
Luckily, the third complex didn't work out and I rushed back to the second, signing all of the paperwork for a year's lease, happily handing over the first and last month's rent, safety deposit, and getting the keys. By the time we were done, it was past dinner and starting to get dark. I'd sent Gwendolyn a text to let her know I was signing the apartment paperwork, but figured it would be fun to drive over and surprise her as she got off work, maybe bring her back and show it off, even though I didn't have furniture yet.
I arrived at the Old Mill District, parking in my usual back corner away from other cars and hopped out, checking my phone. Gwendolyn should be finishing up her shift and walking out shortly, so if I was lucky I'd run into her in the parking lot. Worst case, I missed her and I'd call and she'd loop back around and find me, but I was feeling optimistic. It was a good day.
Whistling cheerfully to myself, I strolled across the parking lot, twirling my new apartment keys in my hand, and glanced around. This was going to be great, a real place for the two of us, a bed, a future. I heard a familiar shriek of joy and turned, a smile on my face, to see Gwendolyn on the other side of the parking lot, her face lit up with a smile, running out of the REI and - oh god, what just happened.
She leaped into a guy's arms and is making out with him. She's wrapped her legs around his waist and is trying to suck his tongue out of his body, and his hands are all grabby on her ass, and I think I'm going to be sick. I sat down on the curb, my head spinning. What was happening right now? I can't breathe, I need to get out of here. I staggered my way back to the van, pausing only briefly as my phone binged with an incoming text message.
Gwendolyn: "That's so exciting about the apartment! I can't wait to see it and help you break it in
Fucking two-faced bitch, lying to me. I powered off the phone and flung it into the back of the van, climbing into the driver's seat, tears pouring down my face. I could barely see through the tears, but I put the van into gear and pulled out of my spot, honking the horn as someone cut me off and flipping them the middle finger, driving due south to I-don't-fucking-care-where. Anywhere but here.
I only made it about thirty minutes before I found a forest service road, pulling into a clearing and parking the van, climbing into bed and crying myself to sleep in the fetal position. Fuck everyone and everything. Today sucks.