Free Hot Laps by Shey Stahl Page A

for the bars so house parties
     still held appeal to us.
    Jameson came back in the office and I watched him move around the office, talking
     with Bailey and then he went downstairs to the shop.
    He was down there for about an hour and then came back up, smiling at me with his
     phone in hand.
    Just as he was going to say something to me, his phone vibrated in his hand drawing
     his attention downward.
    That drew mine there as well and I was thankful for that partition or else my eye-line
     would have been directly on his junk.
    There was one thing I knew about working, don’t eye your boss’ junk. It’s probably
     among the top do not’s of office rules, if there were office rules for such things.
    Although, after working here a week, these people didn’t believe in fucking rules
     anyways.
    “So how are you liking it here?”
    Olivia, who sat right next to me, spoke for me. “She was just downstairs talking dirty
     with your son. I’d say she enjoys it.”
    “Olivia!” I flung my stapler right at her head smacking her in the cheek.
    Her hand rose to rub the spot, glaring in my direction. “Was that fucking necessary?”
    “Yes.”
    Jameson chuckled. “If my son invites you to a party tonight, say no.”
    I gave him a frightful nod, though I couldn’t make any promises.
    “So you’re enjoying yourself here … Hayden? Tate was asking me this morning.”
    “I love it here!”
    Jesus. Hold back a little.
    Jameson smiled, his lips curving into the same smile his son had. “That’s good.”
    This wasn’t working out for me. I couldn’t concentrate at all. I really hoped they
     didn’t expect much out of me the rest of the day. This ordering shit took everything
     out of me. That and you add Jameson and his son. Fucked my day all up.
    My eyes went to Jameson’s black polo with the embroidered words JAR Engines sprawled
     across the left pec.
    I bet that’s one nice pec, too, I thought to myself.
    Stop it. He could be your dad.
    But your hot ass son isn’t! Was my next concerning thought.
    Immediately I started imagining Casten smacking my ass and asking me to scream, “Who’s
     your daddy?” while he bent me over that engine hoist in his bay.
    Oh yeah, that’s one good fucking image right there.
    I really shouldn’t think of the boss man’s son this way, and nor should I go dick
     diving in the company pool. It’s more than likely frowned upon for their “code of
     conduct.” Just like my vagina, they needed to be more careful about who they allowed
     entrance to. Now they had a nineteen-year-old drunk, slightly slutty snarky girl whose
     parents weren’t sure whether to help her find a nice young man or send her to rehab.
    Just so you know, they are leaning toward rehab.
    “Well, I’m leaving tonight for the California. I’ll see you in a couple weeks.”
    “Oh right, you guys are on the west coast swing, right?”
    “Yep.” He looked at his phone. “I gotta meet Sway in an hour.”
    “Good luck.” It was all I could think to say.
    What else was I going to say? Maybe something along the lines of: “Hey, do you mind
     if I have sex with your son while you’re gone?”
    He tipped his head and winked and reached in his pocket.
    Oh shit, did I say that out loud?
    Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
    Just as I was about to say something else, maybe apologize, Jameson handed me a box
     knife. “By the way, you’re gonna need this.”
    “Why?”
    Was he aiding in my suicide or something? What boss hands their employee a box knife,
     besides to open a box? I looked around, there were no boxes.
    Jameson let out a laugh, rubbing his forehead. “The boys at JAR Racing wrapped your
     car in Saran wrap,” he shrugged, standing. “It’s what they like to call a welcoming
     gift.”
    That’s why those bastards were smiling so much.
    Looking over my shoulder out the window, sure enough, those assholes wrapped my entire
     car in Saran wrap, “How’d they get that much Saran wrap?”
    “They have a healthy