Total pages in book: 29
Estimated words: 26894 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 134(@200wpm)___ 108(@250wpm)___ 90(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 26894 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 134(@200wpm)___ 108(@250wpm)___ 90(@300wpm)
“I’ll think about it,” is my only promise.
Ronald takes his time waltzing out, pausing only to spin around like a ballet dancer once he reaches the hallway. “It’s been good, Malcolm, my bud. Can’t wait to work with you on our next project.”
I merely smile politely as he strolls to the elevator bank before disappearing with one last wave into the steel box. Then, I stride back into my office and ring Jan.
“Yes, Mr. Neuwirth?” she asks.
“Make sure Ronald Putnam’s on my block list.”
“Of course, sir. Anything else?” I pause for a moment.
“Go ahead and contact HR. Give them a heads up that Putnam won’t be working here anymore. Give him a week to clear his desk, but that’s it.”
“Understood,” she says in a professional tone. “I’ll get that taken care of right away, sir.”
“Thanks, Jan.”
With that, I sit down once again, still shaking my head with disgust. I’ve dealt with a lot of idiots in my career, but those who are open about it are a rare commodity. Usually, at the very least, they go to great lengths to hide their low IQ, but Ronald Putnam wears his ick factor on his sleeve. In fact, there’s a bad taste in my mouth right now from dealing with the young man.
But what about his girlfriend? Shit, Leslie was so beautiful, and she’s innocent in all this. Ronald said that she has no idea that he’s been showing off her photos, but what happens if she finds out? After all, I want to see those curves in the flesh now, and nothing’s going to stop me until the gorgeous Leslie Field is sighing and moaning in my arms.
3
Leslie
Date nights with Ronald are never anything special because to be honest, I’ve never met anyone who’s a bigger cheapskate. My high school boyfriend was poor because he only had a part-time job fixing bicycles after school, but even he took me to nicer restaurants than Ronald does.
Yet I try not to complain. I try to remind myself that some people prefer to save their money rather than spend it on things like extravagant meals, and I guess Ronald is that kind of person. Of course, he buys expensive outfits for himself, but food is another issue. He doesn’t like to splurge when it comes to dates, and El Loco Taco isn’t so bad. Even if it’s cheap, at least they have a mariachi band that plays on Saturday nights.
But tonight’s Tuesday, so it’s just me, Ronald, and one other middle-aged couple in the restaurant. Don’t get me wrong, I love tacos just like most curvy girls because I adore the glops of cheese, sour cream, and guacamole. But when Ronald mentioned El Loco Taco earlier tonight, my heart sank. They just had a food poisoning scare last week that was bad enough to make the local news, and my stomach churns nervously.
“Uh, Ronald. I know I said I was good with tacos for dinner, but I would rather not risk getting sick eating spoiled meat. I think they had tainted carne asada or something like that? And they were recently inspected by the FDA for serving meat past its expiration date?”
Ronald merely sniffs.
“If they’ve already been inspected by the FDA, then it means you’re safe, Leslie, because that incident is in the past, and we’re good to go. Use your brain, Les. Think of this as a golden opportunity because everyone’s scared to come at exactly the time when the restaurant’s being the most careful. Trust me, it’s fine.”
I’m still hesitant though and pause while he opens the front door.
“Are you sure?”
He shoots me an impatient look. “Come on, babe. Don’t tell me you believe that crap. Just because people put it on social media doesn’t mean it’s true. Besides, they have the best carnitas tacos here.”
Carnitas are exactly what I’m afraid of, but I plaster a smile on my face and nod. Then, we step inside and Ronald chooses a table in the back. The surface is suspiciously shiny, and I take the opportunity to wipe it down with a wet-nap as Ronald sniffs with derision. Then our waitress comes over. She’s perky and pretty with a high, fluffy ponytail.
“Hi, I’m Carmen,” she chirps. “Do you folks know what you want?” she asks.
Carmen’s got an enormous bust bursting from her peasant-style white blouse, and Ronald doesn’t even try to hide how he’s ogling her chest. I can almost see the drool forming in his mouth, and I shake my head. Sometimes I think Josie is right and I should just dump this loser, but if I did that, I might be alone for good, so I manage to bite my tongue.
Ronald simpers at the pretty waitress.
“I think I’d like to have you for dinner,” he says before batting his lashes flirtatiously. Then, he snaps his fingers in a rude fashion. “Actually, I already know what I want. I’ll have three beef tacos, three carnitas tacos, and an order of the beef nachos with extra everything on top. Actually, change that: I want the salsa and guac on the side. Don’t put it straight on the nachos, or I’ll have to send it back to the kitchen,” he warns.