Page 4 of Lesbian CEO

1

Toni

Two years later

We have a problem.

I’m staring at my email, wondering if I’m reading this correctly, when Hillary walks in. She’s tall, curvy, and full of sass. This makes her an incredible assistant since everyone is scared to cross her. She’s my right-hand lady and knows everything that’s happening at my company. More than that, she’s got her thumb on the pulse of Ashbury in general, so Hillary knows everything that’s happening in town and what that means for our business.

“Hey. You see the message from Mark?” Hillary pushes her glasses up the bridge of her nose. Most of the time, she wears contacts, but today she’s slumming it, as she would say.

“Not yet. I’m reading something else right now.” I look down at my laptop for a second before turning back to Hillary. She’s got her red hair in pigtails today, which doesn’t really scream “corporate America,” but I didn’t hire Hillary because she fits the corporate model of what an assistant looks like. I hired her because she’s a badass and she’s loyal. She does anything I need – most of the time before I even anticipate needing it.

“Something...bad?”

“Kind of. Maybe.” I push away from my desk and stand. “Yes. Something bad.” Shit. I don’t like saying those words out loud. When I’m dealing with a business issue, I like to use corporate speak as much as possible. Things are “bad,” they’re “inconvenient.” We don’t have “problems,” we have “issues that need to be resolved.” There’s a business way of dealing with issues that come up at the company you own, and saying “something bad” isn’t the way to command respect from my colleagues.

Luckily, Hillary is more of a friend than an employee at this point, and she knows how to read me. More importantly, she knows how to help me calm down. She’s talked me down from many ledges during our tenure together.

Now, she crosses her arms over her chest and raises a perfectly plucked eyebrow.

“Okay, then. Spill your guts.”

I don’t want to, but I know that this involves Hillary, so I’m going to have to get real honest, real fast. While running a business isn’t an easy endeavor, there are certain things that make it harder than it should be. Dealing with people from my past is one of those things.

“Do you know who Jessica Mortimer is?” Part of me hopes that Hillary says she doesn’t know, but I have no such luck today.

“Your ex?” The look on Hillary’s face lets me know that she remembers exactly who Jessica is. The businesswoman broke my heart when my dad died and she’s still breaking it today. No matter how many times I try to move on, I find that I can’t. Jessica was perfect, and I blew it. I pushed her away, but she didn’t chase after me. The demise of our relationship was a terrible twist of fate, and I miss her every damn day.

“Um, yeah. My ex. You know who she is.” This time, it’s not a question. It’s a statement because Hillary obviously remembers how many mornings I came into the office with tears staining my face. She was always kind enough not to call me out on it, but I know she remembers how pathetic I was.

“Yes, I’m aware you have an ex. You took her house and her dog. I’ve heard the story.”

“That’s not really what happened.”

“Not here to take sides. You know I’ve got your back.”

I do know that. Hillary will do just about anything for me, and I appreciate that very much. Still, it doesn’t change the fact that I’ve got to deal with Jessica now.

Like, today.

And unfortunately for my reputation, today’s issue doesn’t involve arguing with Hillary that I didn’t take Jessica’s dog or her house. I bought her those things preemptively because I was going to propose to her, but then my dad died, and then my mom died, and I retreated into myself instead of reaching out to the one person who could support me. I lost the girl of my dreams, and now I might be about to pay the price. Well, I feel like I’ve already been paying the price, but apparently, there might be more to pay.

“Northington Tech...she just took over.” I say the words out loud, but they feel strange to me. Jessica is now the owner of a huge corporation that happens to be a competitor of mine. I just run a little software company, but many of my clients used to be clients of Northington Tech. I’m sure the reverses is also true.

“Yeah, the former owner sold it to her. Jessica was the VP.”

“How did I not know this was happening?”

“It was all very hush-hush,” Hillary shrugs. “Besides, you’ve kind of been preoccupied, you know.”

With the death of my uncle. Yeah. How could I forget? I don’t want to think about the fact that I didn’t get a real goodbye, nor do I want to dwell on the fact that my uncle’s legacy is basically non-existent. Uncle Jake was just a normal, ordinary guy. He didn’t do these big, huge things. He didn’t create a huge company for me to run. That was my dad.

And Mom supported him.

“It’s been over a month since the funeral,” I tell Hillary. “You don’t have to hide any of this from me.” And I’d like to think I’ve done a better job of handling my uncle’s passing than I did my parents’. I know I screwed up that one. Big time.

“Grief works in funny ways. You know, when my dad died, I was a mess for like five years.” Hillary shrugs, holding out her hands in a “What can you do?” gesture. We’ve never talked about her parents, strangely enough.