Boss lady-2

When I arrived at Jenna’s place, I placed the box on the coffee table in the great room. Everyone else had already got there. Jenna removed a bottle and examined it appreciatively.

Hey. Good stuff, Tim. The ’93 was a super vintage. Not sure how this one compares, though.Can’t wait to find out! Where’d you get it?”

“At Marcel’s.”

“Oh? He has the ’93. I’ll give him a talking-to next time I’m in there.”

So, I had fucked up again, was that it? And been taken for a sap by a crafty wine merchant to boot. It seemed this woman took real pleasure in defeating me. I felt like a clumsy, punch-d***k fool in the ring with a master boxer. Every time I turned around, I caught a stinging jab right in the face.

The meeting was done within two hours. Who can say if anything got done. Grant pulled a soliloquey out of somewhere, going on about a new, higher level of energy he was hoping we’d all adopt (a la Queen Jenna, no doubt).

I had my share of the wine. It tasted fine to me. But then, I’m just some bumbling oaf. What do I know? Well, by the end of the soiree, I knew that Jenna was spearheading the Demerest file. Our most prestigious. What a joyous occasion. There were even a few seconds of congratulatory applause. I don’t know why I didn’t just say: Excuse me, I’m going into the next room to hang myself.