4. Ember

4

EMBER

K ora sat cross-legged on my couch with her phone in her lap. My cat, "Catman," was lurking behind her, plotting her demise. Catman was going for the world record as the oldest living cat, though he seemed to be approaching it through spite and stubbornness alone. He had been my parents' cat, and legend says he was their parents' cat before that. Some even claimed he existed before time itself began.

The only thing we knew for sure was that nobody remembered buying or finding Catman. They all just said he had been living in the house as long as they could remember, like some sort of ancient evil that came with the property deed.

Kora gave Catman a mistrustful look. "Stop looking at me like that, Catman. I know you're judging me."

He meowed in response, managing to sound both ancient and condescending at once. No matter how much I tried, he was always kind of greasy-looking. He was missing half of one ear and had stopped using one of his eyes a few years ago. I was pretty sure it still worked, but he just... closed it and never opened it again. The vet had been perplexed, and her official diagnosis was that he was "dramatically depressed." When I asked what that meant, she just shrugged and said "he's doing it for attention."

Wonderful. My cat was a drama queen.

"Focus," I said. "We were talking about what the hell I should do."

"Well," Kora said, setting her phone down to take a heaping spoonful of ice cream. She swallowed, then handed me the tub.

Kora would probably aggressively exercise these ice cream calories off. And me? Well… Calories were just energy, right? Some might say I could lose a few pounds, but me? I liked to see it as having an emergency storage supply of energy.

"I see a few options,” Kora said. “You could always do what he's asking. Infiltrate this dude's company. Sabotage him. Do such a good job that Cole realizes he made a mistake letting you go. You two have a dreamy reunion in the rain. Maybe you're wearing white, so he can totally see your nipples. They are hard enough to cut diamonds. His eyes fall to them, and he bites his lip, then you bite yours. You get on your knees, and then?—"

"No," I said, voice flat. "First of all, I've told you this before. I have camo nips. Same color as my skin. It's ridiculous, and nobody wants to see that."

"Your camo nips are awesome," Kora said. "I've seen them, and let me tell you, they are great. Lets your boobs do all the talking without two distracting blobs stealing the show."

“Mhm,” I said around a mouthful of icecream.

"At least you're not cursed with pepperoni nips like my cousin Janet."

"I don't want to know how you know about Janet's nipples."

"Family beach trip," Kora said with a shudder. "Some things you can't unsee."

I snorted ice cream up my nose, which was exactly as pleasant as it sounds. "Anyway," I said, wiping my face, "exactly zero percent of me wants back with Cole. I just... I wouldn't mind if he regretted dumping me for whats-her-name, but that's purely speaking from a place of spite. I'd rather eat a toenail than get back with him. There's wanting revenge on your ex because you secretly want him back, and then there's wanting revenge because you realized he's a piece of dick who deserves to get kicked in his metaphorical, human-sized dick nuts."

Kora raised an eyebrow at that, then shrugged. "The other option is you lawyer up on his ass. I'm pretty sure him asking you to do this infiltration bullshit breaks some kind of law. Probably several of them. They could put a wire on you, and boom. He's busted."

"Sure. I'll just hire lawyers with all the money I don't have. The plan is brilliant. Maybe they'll accept monopoly money? An IOU written in crayon? Look at my beautiful apartment if you really think I have money stashed away somewhere."

Kora didn't even have to move her head to look at my whole apartment. You could see the kitchen from my bed and everything else in the 132-square-foot studio apartment. The only thing you couldn't see was the bathroom. Yay for scraps of privacy.

"What about the police?" Kora asked.

"One, that's so lame. Two, I don't have the time to deal with it. If I'm getting fired by Cole soon, I need to make sure I've got another job lined up."

"So... What are you suggesting?" Kora asked.

"I’ve been scheming all afternoon and I think I’ve got the perfect plan. I'm going to get hired by this Mr. Foster guy like Cole wants. I'll even let Cole believe I'm planning to sabotage his rival. But in reality, I’m just seeing how long I can collect two salaries before Cole figures out what’s going on. Imagine his face when he finds out I duped him."

Kora smiled and clapped her hands. "Yesss. It's wicked. I love it. So you're just milking Cole's money while you get your foot in the door at your next job. He'll be so pissed when he finds out."

I smiled around a mouthful of ice cream, then paused and looked down at my pudgy belly. Hmm. I guess I was less of a "hit the gym and get the perfect beach bod" kind of ex and more of a "let's destroy his soul with my diabolical schemes" type. But my brilliant plan was way cooler than just getting a great body. Anybody could do that! In theory...

"So," Kora said, eyes narrowed. "How will you get a job working for Foster Real Estate? Isn't the boss kind of notoriously dickish?"

"Another dickish boss," I said thoughtfully. "Thankfully, I've already got experience handling dicks."

Kora burst out laughing as she raised two fists, pumped them in the air, and opened her mouth like she was really going at it.

"That's not what I meant at all," I sputtered.

"Hold on, they're almost done," she said, continuing to pump while making obscene slurping sounds.

I tossed a pillow at her as she fell back, accepting a phantom money-shot on her chest, which she pressed together to make a bigger target.

"You're ridiculous," I said, trying not to laugh. “Anyway, asshole bosses are all the same on the inside. Deep down, all they care about is obedience. They want fear, respect, submission, or a combination of all three. The real secret is not giving them any of it."

"Ohh," Kora said with a wiggle of her brows. "She's spitting wisdom, now."

"So," I continued, leaning forward. "You get your foot in the door, and then you drive them crazy by resisting. You show them you won't bend, break, or even tilt. It pisses them off, and they will put you in more and more important positions of responsibility. They'll think the weight of it will make you crack. But you just keep on resisting."

"What happens if you are the one who cracks?"

“They will crack first. Think about it,” I said, tapping my temple. “They call them assholes for a reason, right?" I asked. "Every asshole is hiding behind a massive crack. All you have to do is dig into it... to..." I trailed off, realizing the metaphor was both gross and not exactly applicable. My lips scrunched as I held back a smile.

"That's either some fortune cookie shit, or the dumbest thing I've ever heard."

"Thank you," I said, smiling around my spoon as I shoveled another bite into my mouth.

From his perch on the couch, Catman gave me his signature one-eyed look of judgment.

"What?" I asked him. "You got a better plan?"

His meow seemed to say "I've lived nine hundred years and that's the stupidest thing I've ever heard."

"Nobody asked you, you immortal drama queen."

The way he turned his back to me said everything.

At least I had ice cream.

And a plan.

Sort of.