Reluctant Gods

“The most common ego identifications have to do with possessions, the work you do, social status and recognition, knowledge and education, physical appearance, special abilities, relationships, personal and family history, belief systems, and often nationalistic, racial, religious, and other collective identifications. None of these is you.”

  Eckhart Tollee

  2

  “Hey, Leyna, how are you this fine morning?” John asked.

  I flashed John my sparkling smile and threw some extra swing into my step. I felt his eyes, and the eyes of every smoking man near the entrance.

  “Perfect, like I always am.”

  John came toward me, winked, and whispered, “How about us having some play time tonight? It’s been a while, Leyna.”

  I whispered back, “Go play with your stupid wife. Want me to send her another video of us? I can’t believe she hasn’t divorced you yet.”

  John and I used to work together, then I moved up and he stayed down. When I became VP, he thought seducing me would help him out of his stagnant role and onto my coat tails. He was a tall, handsome nothing, like all men. I gave into his seduction and gave him the ride of his life. When I was done playing with him, I sent his wife a video of us.

  “We’re separated. Maybe she’ll get rid of me finally. Then I’ll be all yours.”

  “She can keep you. I don’t need, or want you.”

  I walked through the revolving doors into the lobby headed for my office.

  I didn’t need a man. They’re all trouble. Fun to play with, but trouble in the long run. The playing got boring, though, and now something gnawed at me daily.

  Twenty-seven different men and I’d found no meaning, no excitement with them. I always ended up waking up next to their bodies, feeling disgusted, and wondering what I was doing with the turds. Then I’d go on to mess up their lives. Yet I continued to pursue one after the other, expecting to stop that gnawing. There sure wasn’t any shortage, either. I could have anyone I wanted.

  “Good morning, everyone!” I yelled to the group. Twenty heads popped up over the cubicle walls as they waved and said their good mornings. I passed by my assistant, Jordan’s, desk and waved, since Jordan was on the phone already. Everyone loved me. At least they seemed to.

  I sat at my desk, powered up my computer, and retrieved my voicemails. Oh great, Joe left me two messages. He needs to tell me something important and wants to take me out to Juan Marco’s, the most expensive restaurant in town. Great, I wondered what it could be.

  Jordan rushed into my office holding a fresh mug of coffee.

  “Good morning, Miss DiAmore. I hope you had a nice evening last night.”

  I took the mug. Looked at my monitor.

  “Hi. Yes, nice evening,”

  I started sorting through emails, sipping my coffee. I had one hundred and eighteen unread emails in my inbox that morning. Oh well, I just added them to the other five hundred and sixty-seven.

  “Miss DiAmore, I was wondering if I could leave an hour early today.”

  I took my eyes off my monitor to sneer at Jordan. Jordan was easy to describe—always looked the same. Short brown hair cut above the ears and collar. Tan cotton pants, loafers, and a stiff button-down oxford shirt in blue or white with brown loafers. A man with hips and saggy man boobs, or a frumpy woman with a shadow of a mustache that always needed a closer shave. Either description worked.

  To tell the truth, I didn’t know or care to know the gender of Jordan anyway—too much information. Jordan worked for me and that was all that counted. I didn’t need personal details about someone working for me. It made it harder to fire them.

  I stopped looking her over, shook my head then looked her in the eyes as I leaned forward. “Leave an hour early? Come on! I need you to gather those data figures for me on the Delta project. It’ll take you all day, especially because that asshole Peter screwed everything up. God, sometimes I wonder how he got the position he did, what a waste of flesh. Depending on what those data figures tell me, I might have to fire his ass, but that’s beside the point.”

  “Miss DiAmore, I need to be home by four o’clock. I’ll have those figures for you before lunch. You know I always produce what you need before you need it.”

  Jordan’s reports were always on time, she made sure I never missed a meeting, and she always had my piping hot cup of coffee ready for me when I arrived in the morning.

  I rolled my eyes and gave a big huff of annoyance. “Fine, but only if I get my stuff by lunch. Then you can leave at three thirty. I hope this doesn’t become a habit.” I looked back at my monitor and took another sip of coffee.

  “A habit?”

  I looked up again with authority in my eyes. Jordan settled down.

  “Yes, Miss DiAmore, you’ll have your figures by noon. Thank you.”

  My authority had been submitted to like it needed to be.

  I needed to call Joe. I wondered what he had up his sleeve. He was so creative sometimes. Playing with him was still fun. His wife threw him out of the house a few months ago, so there was no gain in sending her a video now. Not being able to destroy his life took away the best part of the relationship.

  Maybe I could mess him up some other way. I needed something to entertain me. Life was so dull sometimes.