Alex

I was miserable the next two days.

What did I catch on this camping trip, you might ask?

Nature.
I caught fucking nature.

And my asthmatic, allergic, weak immune system couldn't handle the trials and tribulations nature had sent my way over the course of a few days. I was now comfortably rested in bed with a nice cup of tea (sure it was accompanied with a few shots of whiskey... sue me) and some It's Always Sunny reruns.

I heard a knock on my door just as soon as I settled back into the cocoon of blankets. It didn't surprise me when I opened the door and Derek and Joan barged past into my apartment like they contributed to these rent payments or something.

"We've skipped out on work to tend to a friend in need." Derek announced to the otherwise empty apartment.

"Yay." I replied sarcastically.

Derek gave me a look. Clearly he didn't approve of the tone I was taking with him.

"You look miserable." Joan grimaced when she got a better look at me. "Did you go tree hugging or something?"

"Christian fucking Ivanov took me camping."

I could of sworn Derek and Joan's eyebrows furrowed deeply at exactly the same time. "But... why?"

I shrugged my shoulders in response. "He wanted to test out some of this camping gear before the items go on shelves for Ivanov Corp. The stuff was actually pretty cool, except for the fact that it took me about four good hours to get a tent assembled and I ended up getting too drunk then lost... then I fell asleep in Christian fucking Ivanov's tent only to be woken up by him in a response to my face looking like a tomato on steroids."  That last part, I rushed out.

Derek and Joan were stunned into silence. It looked like it was taking Derek a minute to come up with words, and when he did, they made very little sense.

"You-... in Christian fucking Ivanov's tent- and you-"

"I don't even want to hear it." I grumbled. What had started off as a day riddled with potential, was now on the verge of being written off as trash.

"How the flying fuck did you get yourself in a position such as that one?!" Joan spoke up next. Her eyes just about bulged right out of her sockets in shock.

Before I could reply, Derek pointed down to my wrapped up leg. "And what the hell happened there?" 

I gave them both another infamous sigh.

"Nature happened. Now please, my body is going through a constant state of deciding whether it still wants to live on, so let's not dwell on how shitty I look any longer." I pleaded with my two best friends. They exchanged a few glances before finally giving me a nod. "Tell me how work's going."

Joan gave me a smile.

But it wasn't one of those warm encompassing Joan smiles I loved so dearly.

Oh no.

It was a I may have done something that could or couldn't backfire type smile. I offered a smile back that was so tight, it felt like my face was doing a workout. "What the fuck happened?" I asked.

"Nothing bad I swear! Everything is running smoothly... sorta." Derek added. Sorta?

"Christian came down to the third floor today. He was looking for you... apparently you've been avoiding his messages?" Joan asked. I gave her a look of bewilderment.

"Well, yes, but I explain I was taking a few sick days. Technically, I don't have to answer anything until I'm back at work." That was kind of how PTO worked, I thought.

"I-um... I don't think Christian Ivanov's assistants get sick days..." Derek replied. "Pretty sure this is a round the clock type of job."

"That can't even be legal." Or at least I thought it couldn't. As I pulled my phone off the counter to check the muted emails, I almost stumbled backwards. There was a long series of emails from Christian fucking Ivanov, of course.

Subject: Sick Days?
CC: [email protected]

Dear Alex,

I just saw your email regarding your pto request these next few days. Not sure what that was but just wanted you to confirm it's an error.

Regards,
Christian Ivanov

This email looked like it was sent yesterday morning.  There was another after that...

Subject: RE: Sick Days?
CC: [email protected]

Dear Alex,

Please respond to my previous email... unless death is something your shooting for. I'd gladly make that happen.

Regards,
Christian Ivanov

There were maybe five or six more emails that I skimmed through before making it to his most recent one. This was sent not even a half hour ago.

Subject: RE: Sick Days?
CC: None

I'm heading over now. You better be fucking dead.

Sent from my iPhone

My fingers froze midair as I read that email over and over again.

Oh shit. Oh shit. Oh... shit.

"What's up?" Derek asked.

"Christian fucking Ivanov is coming... here. Like here, here. Like to my fucking apartment, here." I whispered. It was just loud enough for both Derek and Joan to hear.

"Why the hell would he come here?" Derek asked. Joan, however, still had that uncomfortable smile going.

"I've got zero fucking clue. How does he even know where I live?" I continued to whisper in horror.

"Honey, your address is in your company file..." my sweet Joan reminded me. "And I'm sorry sweetie but if Christian fucking Ivanov is heading this way, that means it's time for Derek and I to head in any other direction boo." Joan was already collecting her things. Something told me she had something to do with this mess.

"Yeah I'm sorry mate. It was really nice knowing you, though." Derek added as he followed Joan through my apartment door and out into the hallway. There was no way I was letting them leave without grilling Joan.

"You don't just get to bail-" I had started to say, but something else stopped everyone (including myself) dead in their tracks.

Christian fucking Ivanov stood not even a few feet away in his nicely pressed suit, holding a laptop bag and portfolio.

My phone almost slipped out from my hand.

Derek and Joan looked as terrified as I did... maybe even more? It was Christian who finally broke the uncomfortable silence between the four of us. He paid Joan and Derek zero attention as his eyes instantly found mine.

"That's funny. Considering you haven't made it into work or been replying to my emails, I for sure thought the only logical explanation would be that you've broken every finger you have and have had both legs amputated. But here you are. Limbs in tact and everything..."

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