Mama Boss Joss

I am not sitting here for the good of my health!

If my entire future at Lunarals, and that of my colleagues, didn’t rely on my shoulders at this present moment, I would tell Brandon Clark to go jump off a very high, in fact the 21st floor of this rather marvellous hotel. This demanding, arrogant, pompous wretch of a man has ordered this meeting giving me very little notice and for what? So he can ogle every woman to grace the floor? Already 57 minutes into our first ever introduction, I have had the great pleasure of meeting some of his “friends” (more like conquests, my sub conscience bitterly pipes up). We’ve had Sylvia from Kenya, Celina from France, Alannah from Australia and Maureen from Hong Kong; all beautiful, elegant and dripping in finery. He has left me no choice than to form a “friendship” of my own; Champagne from-The Bar.
Yes, the man is more than pleasing on the eye, has skin smooth like glistening melted chocolate, big, brown sensual eyes that could undress you in seconds. I can only imagine the women currently burning holes into my flesh from the 4 corners of the room, have made contact with those delicious lips but please ladies, have some shame. Had they had the displeasure of tending to his hourly requests regardless of how absurd, or the tone of his berating manner, one can only assume this level of admiration would not be so pathetically welcomed.

60 minutes and counting….

I might as well not be here! I would much rather be in my polka dot pj’s watching cartoons, eating popcorn and laughing with my 6 year old son, Fin. Instead I am sat in a pretentious emerald floor length gown, with pretentious shoes and a pretentious clutch bag that can’t even fit my bank card in, hoping to charm and win the business of Brandon Clark. This is going to be fun – Hardly.

“Sorry about that,” he smirks. I can’t look at him without judging. I take another sip of champagne.

“Where were we? Yes, so Joss.”

“Jocelyn,” I correct.

“Forgive me, Jocelyn. Vince has told me a lot about you, an accomplished professional, securing 50% of new business for Lunarals. Tell me, what makes you go for the jugular?”
I halt my glass before it reaches my lips. His eyes find mine to which I feel the blaze between us.

“Mr Clark.”

“Please call me Brandon,” he adds with the most seductive smile. I compose myself in the nanosecond I have.

“Brandon, I am passionate about business, my business. I work hard and don’t sleep…… basically,” I reflect, to which he smiles back.

“What can you do for me?” he challenges. I put the glass down.

“What is your monthly turnover?”

“Miss Banks that is none of your…”

“Double it.” I speak frankly with only my word on the table. He raises his eyebrow with stipulation as he takes a sip of his brandy.
“That’s some front you have.” He’s doubting me, smiling and mocking me in fact.
“Well the figures don’t lie,” I rip. He smiles again which makes me see red. I take the paperwork from under the table and hand it to him. He scales over it as I try to gage some sort of reaction. I sit awaiting his response as he grades my work with a fine tooth comb. I sip more champagne as he reads the documents and highlights the statistics.

Suddenly the waiter startles me, to which the champagne falls down the front of my beautiful pretentious dress. Brandon looks at me disapprovingly. I do not appreciate the look he has just given.

“Mr Clarke, you have a call.”

“Excuse me Jocelyn.”

Are you kidding? We have managed an uninterrupted conversation for 15 minutes. Don’t you dare! Before I know it, he is gone.
I slump in my seat and wait. My thoughts unsettle me as I soon realise he makes me feel unqualified, uncertain and inadequate. I feel foolish. Why oh why did Gavin make me do this? Surely he would have been much better suited for such a meeting. I feel out of my depth, truth be told. 25 minutes have passed and he has not returned.
I have text my mum to kiss Fin for me and my friend Kim to say Brandon is a beautiful, over confident rat that has abandoned me for nearly 30 minutes.
Half a dozen flutes of champagne later, I am tipsy feeling sorry for myself slowly walking back to my room. I am such a failure. How could I have been so self-assured?
I arrive at my room. In my merry haze I drop my key, stumbling to get it, I bend down. I rise to find Brandon stood in front of me.

“There you are…. I was just…”

“Excuse me.” I don’t let him finish.

I put the key in the door. He tries to stall me by holding my wrist as I’m about to walk through. I can’t look at him. I am embarrassed and who am I kidding… drunk!

“It’s not what you think, look at me…”

“Look at me Joss.”

He twirls me around; me on the inside of my room, him in the corridor. I meet his gaze. He can see me – exposed, vulnerable and completely undone, although the same can’t be said for him. He places a hand on the side of my face and stares right into my soul. I feel my legs give way. I can’t, I want to but NO.

“Goodnight Brandon.”

I dismiss him and begin to close the door. All of a sudden he kicks the door wide open, grabs my arms throws me to the wall, as my purse and the documents fall to the floor.

“What the hell are you doing?” I scream.

I turn on the light frantically. My eyes dart across the room to Brandon then to the semi naked intruder before us.