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A Game Of Risk

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If I had the chance to be anyone in the world, it would probably be Black Widow, the hot redheaded superhero from the Marvel movies. And while I didn’t have an ass that didn’t quit, like ScarJo did, I DO know I that also look really hot in black leather. And that I wasn’t afraid of a challenge.

Sure, I didn’t literally kick the asses of bad guys. I actually did like the bad guys. And those people who follow me on Insta, Snapchat and Twitter knew that. And there were also those guys who were lucky enough to see it up close and personal. Which, I was proud to admit, made up of at least 80 percent of the ones I worked with at KinderKare. Or rather, all the straight ones. For someone who had been voted “Most Butt” in high school, I would definitely take advantage of this. Hashtag glow-up. Hashtag hot. Hashtag suck it Corynn McWatters.

“Hey, you!” Eliza pushed her way through the crowd to reach the receptionist’s desk. She had never actually spoken to the woman before, or even noticed her, but she needed to vent her feelings to someone, as none of her online friends or followers seemed to care beyond Twitter and Instagram likes.

The woman looked up and pasted on a bright smile. “Good morning, how are-“

“Yeah,” Eliza cut her off before she could finish. “So, you’ll never believe this, but Troy from IT dumped me last night!”

“Mm-hm,” the receptionist muttered, looking back at her computer screen. This was already the least interesting conversation she had ever heard. And being a receptionist, she had overheard a lot at the company.

“Can you believe it? He just totally changed his relationship status on Facebook to ‘Single!’” Eliza whined. “I mean, who does that? Not even a text!”

The other woman did make a face at this. Men were worthless cowards. “Alright, that is trashy.”

“But you know what?” Eliza just went on. “Screw it. My pics of him never got more than 50 likes on Instagram anyway. I can easily find someone else.”

“Not really,” the receptionist said, looking back at her screen again. So, what was her name again? Did Eliza care? She barely glanced at the nameplate before continuing.

“Oh, come on!” Eliza exclaimed. “I mean, okay, when I was sleeping with Miller in Legal, he never said a thing about being married. But that’s not my fault.”

The receptionist – Charlotte? Something with a C, or maybe an S - looked up. “You do know that being popular on social media doesn’t mean you’re popular in the real world, right?"

“Well, maybe not the real whole world…” Eliza said. Okay, so most of her followers lived in the States, but you had to smart small, right?

“You know what?” the other woman continued, “I don’t even care.” She pushed back her rolling chair and stood up to go to the break room. Because receptionists probably didn’t have any actual work to do. It’s not like they had awards for the Top Receptionist…Rep.

Eliza jogged to keep up with her. No small feat when wearing brand new Fendi heels. “What about that time I famously made out with Justin Bieber in front of Selena Gomez at the Avalon Hollywood?” Surely the receptionist couldn’t respond to that.

Instead, she just snorted. Then turned to look Eliza in the eye.

“Yeah, see, this is why no one likes you,” she said flatly. “Everything you say is about yourself.”

“But then, on our business flight back from Chicago, I even puked on the plane, in front of the whole company.” Eliza continued, as if she hadn’t heard her. Which she kinda hadn’t.

The receptionist smirked. “I’ve heard.”

“I mean,” Eliza started again, not seeing the other woman roll her eyes at her narcissism, “How was I supposed to know that Miller had a wife?”

“I don’t know, and I don’t care,” the other woman told her as she grabbed a bagel from the basket, and headed back toward her desk.

“Look,” Eliza said, circling the desk to stand in front of her again. “I don’t do that! I don’t usually sleep with other womens’ husbands. He didn’t even have the decency to tell me. That’s on him.”<> Receptionist lady sighed and looked at her. “Fine. Yes, it is on him, okay? But girl, it’s. Not. All. About. You.”

Eliza straightened up, offended. “Fine.” She turned to go to her cubicle, keeping her back straight and her head held high. She could still feel whispers and giggles of her co-workers filing in around her.

God, this is more embarrassing than that time that the paparazzi got an up skirt shot of me and Kourtney Kardashian. I didn’t even know if they were laughing about the puking fail or my personal experience of being Hashtag Miller’s mistress.

Of course, whatever I said to the front desk woman, I couldn’t let this hold me back. I had a social media reputation to uphold. I was NOT going to fade away like Mischa Barton.

She stopped walking suddenly, a thought coming to her. She spun back around to run back to the reception desk.

“You know what?” She said, ignoring the scoff that Charity - or Sade; or maybe Chardonnay? - let out. “Alright. I can bounce back from this. There are plenty of unmarried guys I can take for a ride. I’m that hot.”

“Oh, okay then,” Receptionist said, suddenly interested, her eyes seeming to look over Eliza’s shoulder. “So you’re saying you can get anyone? How about Henry Higgs, head of Marketing and Prude Extraordinaire?”

“Who?” Eliza said. Was that even a real name? It seemed straight out of an old fashioned story from like, Jane Austen or someone boring like that.

A smirk spread across the receptionist’s face. “Welllll, look who it is.” She then smiled brightly, speaking past Eliza. “Good morning, how are you?”

Eliza spun around to look. While two men were coming towards the desk from the foyer, she saw only one. Though he seemed to have just walked off the elevator, he had a look like he had just walked off a business magazine cover of some sort.

“Good morning, Charmonique,” the man greeted with an easy smile. Eliza looked him up and down.

He was pretty sexy, in a buttoned-up, dorky kind of way. He even wore a bowtie. His navy pinstriped shirt was perfectly pressed and his grey pants didn’t have a wrinkle in them. Hell, his shoes shone like they had literally been polished and his tie was the exact same color as his pants. Hashtag loosen up. Hashtag nerd. Hashtag at least he knew how to dress.

He continued on down the hall to the executive offices, not even sparing Eliza a glance, much less a second glance. Whoaaaa, did that really just happen? She wasn’t used to getting that reaction – or rather, NOT reaction – from guys. Well, she’d get him to look at her, alright.

Eliza spun back around to look at Charmonique, which was apparently the receptionist’s name. So, that guy? Despite his first error in judgment, he’ll be too easy. He even LOOKS like he hasn’t touched a woman in years. Unlike Leo. Or CEvans.

I liked playing games. Particularly if they involved handcuffs, but this wasn’t that kind of game. I mean, unless he wanted it to be. But I knew how to have fun. I did beat Lindsay Lohan at a drinking contest once.

“What would I get for doing it?” She asked, leaning against the desk. “A $50 gift card to Amazon? That new glitter makeup palette from L’Oreal?” A sudden, excited thought came to her. “A pre-approved Visa Gold card?!”

“What? No!” The receptionist scoffed. “What do I look like, that bald guy from Amazon? No one is doing this for money!”

Eliza shrugged. This could give her a chance to up her Insta game even more anyway. She loved getting new followers.

Charmonique smiled widely at her. “So, here’s the deal: if you’re actually able to seduce Henry Higgs, I’ll…let you hold the key to the executive gym for a month.”

“So it’ll be like a reverse ‘She’s All That?’” Eliza said excitedly. “Except I’m Freddie Prinze Jr., and he’s the nerdy and straight-edged artist?”

“Though you do not have smoldering dark eyes, and he’ll probably see right through your act,” the receptionist corrected her.

A technicality. Head of Marketing didn’t necessarily mean street smarts. Or, judging by his uptight look, knowledge of how sexual relationships would even work. This will be SO easy.

Granted, it wouldn’t be an actual fake relationship like Katie Holmes and T. Cruise, but who said anything about a relationship? She didn’t actually do relationships. At least, as far as Eliza knew. She just had to sleep with the guy. As long as he wasn’t married, like Miller. Again, that hadn’t been her fault.

Something in her was telling her that Henry Higgs wasn’t married. Or attached. Or even had anything resembling game.

Let the games…er, game, begin. Hashtag I got this. Hashtag what could go wrong?