Big Dick Energy - Cindi Madsen Page 0,1

house made ketchup I couldn’t get enough of. I’d seriously considered ordering a Bloody Mary if they would make it with the ketchup.

Then again, I was more about drinking my fruits than my vegetables. As I took another drink of my margarita, my overly long bangs fell in my face and irritation bloomed as I blew them out of my eyes.

As if I needed another reminder of the ways I failed at life.

It’d started with my favorite hairdresser relocating to the Midwest and had ended with bangs so thick even Rainbow Brite would’ve been like whoa, that’s a lot of bang. I’d requested a little sideswept fringe and platinum highlights, only for the hairdresser to argue with me.

It was one of many instances in my life when my inner voice had been screaming remain firm, Penny! Tell the woman it’s your hair, and if she can’t do what you want, you’ll need to find someone who can.

Considering that would’ve required breaking from my nice girl persona, I’d remained quiet. The reflection of my chunky peach mess of hair sent panic through me, yet I’d thanked the woman and generously tipped her. Then I’d rushed to my car, FaceTimed my friends, and burst into tears.

They’d assured me it didn’t look “that bad.” A phrase that should be struck from the English language, by the by. It took a new hairdresser, cutting off several inches, and a shit-ton of toner and purple shampoo to return my hair to its current state. And it’d take another six months to a year to grow out the last of my “fringe.” For reals, I’d rather search for a new gyno than another hairdresser, and I’d been called a prude before when it came to flashing my downstairs area.

“Pen?”

I yanked myself back into the here and now. “I can’t keep doing this. Maybe it’s not all on me that I keep getting walked over, or that I’ve remained in the same salary bracket as the day I joined the firm, but surely there’s something I can do. After all, you two have managed to get ahead in your careers.”

“That’s because I don’t care if people call me a cold-hearted bitch,” Cat said with a shrug. Ugh, why did I care so much what others thought about me? Being as blasé as my bestie would be awesome and make life so much easier, but that’d never been me. I’d been raised by a perfectionist mother who expected me to carry on the anal retentiveness.

It meant I didn’t throw out an idea until it was fully formed. As opposed to my male counterparts, who lobbed theirs at Mr. Bishop like beads at Mardi Gras. A shudder ran through me at the image of my boss shirtless, and while I was sure the pale, hairy man boobs were an accurate depiction, why’d my brain have to go there?

Ellie licked the salt off her upper lip. “I also work for myself and can choose my clients, so it’s a fair comparison.”

I rubbed a hand over my face, wishing it would do a better job of removing my worries. “First Dawn screwed over my confidence, and then Ron wrecked me. Didn’t I say dating my coworker was a bad idea? That it’d leave me too vulnerable and biased and that I should’ve known better? Yes, I did.”

Catalina crinkled her forehead, likely on account of me talking to myself. Both of my friends told me I shouldn’t be so hard on myself, but there was an overly-critical voice inside my head—one that sounded suspiciously like my mother’s—and it refused to listen to reason. “Yeah, Ron’s a real piece of work. As I’ve said before, I’d love to follow him into a dark alley and introduce his ass to the pointy tip of my heel. But who the hell’s Dawn?”

“The hairdresser who gave her a Kate Plus 8 haircut,” Ellie said.

I gasped and launched a fry at her head. “You said it didn’t look that bad!”

“It didn’t.” Ellie fished the fry from her cleavage and popped it in her mouth. “However, it did make you look like a soccer mom who drove a minivan full of sticky kids. But, like, the hottest soccer mom out there.”

A snort of laughter mixed in with my groan. “If you guys try to cheer me up anymore, I’m going to need a box of tissues to wipe away my tears.”

They both rolled their lips inward, doing their best not to laugh at my pain. They freaking failed.

“That’s