This Could Have Been Our Song!: A coulda woulda shoulda ballad by Danielle-Claude Ngontang Mba Page A

We weren’t snooping or anything,” he adds. “And about the charm bracelet. I bought it as a peace offering but changed my mind when –”
    “ A peace offering? What’s wrong with you? Offering for what exactly? For the lies, the back stabbing or more lies? And the list goes on.” I close my eyes and take a deep breath. “You thought that a cheap piece of jewelry would be a good consolation price! Are men always this dense in England?”
    He starts to walk around the desk but stops. Finally, I hit a nerve. Instead, he leans against the desk and positions himself to my eye level.
    “Why? Because you asked me, Lucia,” he blurts out without a blink, “You asked me if I wanted to get out of here. What was I supposed to do or say?”
    Great now I ’m crying. I can feel the tears rolling down my cheeks. Is he getting a kick out of hurting my feelings?
    “ You stupid, insensitive dickhead! Do you even know why I’m so pissed off?” I lean closer to him. “Let’s get one thing straight here; I didn’t do anything wrong!”
    “ I didn’t say you did! I said I just followed your lead.”
    “ My lead? Were you under hypnosis? Don’t you dare raising your voice at me! I went out for my birthday, got a too little drunk and picked up some guy –”
    “You just keep telling yourself that, love,” he smirks back and leans in even closer.
    “ Really? That’s the best you’ve got for me?” I can’t take this anymore and I don’t have to. “Get out!”
    “ Lucia, listen, I –”
    “ Too late, Just Marcus, Marcus Grant, Grant the Grand, whoever the fuck you are – piss off! Now!” I signal the door. “This is still my office!”
    Marcus takes one last look at me and opens his mouth as if he is about to say something.
    “Please leave,” I say, wiping some of my tears. “Now.”
    “ Luce –”
    “ If you have any shreds of decency left, Marcus –”
    “ Okay, I’m leaving.” He raises his hands. “But this is far from being over.”
    I look at him leaving my office. This is definitely over.
     
    I ’m not sure how long I have been sitting in my office. My growling stomach loudly reminds me that it’s probably been too long. Have I really been here sulking all his time? Yes. Were my reactions and actions towards Marcus a bit too dramatic? Maybe. But it’s not every day that you’re cheated out of a big break and humiliated before lunch. I don’t even think I had breakfast. However, I wasn’t completely unproductive; I checked my emails, phone messages and responded to a few. Most of them were congratulations for Second Comings. If they only knew. Soon they will I’m sure.
    My cell phone buzzes; it ’s Noor. I sent a message about an hour ago – Marcus is HERE – but haven’t received a response until now:
    OMG with flowers?! Can’t talk. Still at the conference.
    I completely forgot about that. Noor has been attending a work-related seminar since yesterday. And so the texting match begins.
    Me: To steal my job I’m so Grr… (No flowers)
    Noor: WHAT THE WHAT!
    Noor: How?
    Me: Matt called him to the rescue. Piece of Sh%&^
    Noor: And we met him last weekend :-o! What are the odds of that?!
    Me : ???
    Me: He knew who I was…then
    Noor: And you didn’t tell me!!!
    Me: I didn’t know who HE was!!! Crazy!
    Noor: Really? He never told you a thing?
    I cannot recall a single conversation involving Marcus ’ occupation until this morning.
    Me: Nope
    Noor: AND WE MET HIM LAST WEEKEND!
    Now she ’s getting it.
    Noor: Aw…so you’re jobless now?
    Me: Not quite. We’re a team! Yay! (Sucks)
    Me: I wanna quit!
    Noor: No you don’t! Hot British Invasion will not win
    Me: Noor…we’re British…and hot
    Noor: So? We’ve been here longer and you have to finish this. This album will be great.
    Me: But it won’t be mine anymore
    Noor: Stick around, sweetie. Don’t let Matt or Just Marcus win
    Me: I don’t know
    Noor: I do
    Noor: Roll with the punches, we’re Mpobo-Riddell <3
    Me: I miss you,