oliver--barrymore:
He could only watch as she went into a full-on rant with a smile, holding in his laughter so that Josie didn’t completely lose it. She was right though: never in her life had she ever said or done either of those things and never would she. That didn’t stop Oliver from insinuating ti could happen though; especially when he knew it annoyed her. “You can’t fault a man for dreaming, can you? What about that night you got all drug and clingy with your sorority sisters and I offered you a ride home? You were pawing all over me, I could barely drive. I had to shove you inside your house and close the door and run just to get away from you. All you wanted that night was to be in my arms.” He smirked, genuinely amused by his own fan fiction and contemplating a career as a writer when his imagination was this good.
“Tsk, Tsk, Jojo – that language is far too colorful for the workplace.” He scolded teasingly before helping himself to a drink. Sighing, he fucked up, deep down he knew it, but when had he ever been on time? Still, knowing better than to fault her for his poor choices, he took a sip and turned back to her. “ And…. let’s say fifty….eighty…Mmm, ninety…five percent of the time you would be right, but this time I actually was meeting an investor.” He swore as if she would believe him either. ”He –because it was a he – was interested in the great magic of celluloid and I heard through a friend of a friend who arranged a meet-up and things ran a little heavy.” He then sighed and put down the glass and moved back towards her. “And we are a team, but we wont be one if every single movie Disney puts out makes a billion and we’re in the 5k million dragging behind. Putting more money into production value to make a movie more appealing means we go bankrupt for the risk or with poke at the one percent on their private islands to give us their money instead of investing it in captains. You know this better than anyone. It’s our livelihood.” He actually sounded serious, which he was, even though it was rare. Oliver fooled around more often than not, but on occasion reminded people that he too, went to Yale and learned a thing or two in the classroom as well as outside of it. “Getting my dick sucked I do for me, but kissing billionaire’s asses I do for us. Who else is going to feed your shoe habit if I don’t?”
For the most part, Josie did a somewhat good job at acting unphased by Oliver’s shenanigans. It was apart of their rapport, it’s what made Oliver...Oliver and as much as she hated, it was part of his stupid charm that got him away with any and everything. Still, as good as she was at keeping a straight face, she visibly cracked at his so-called fictitious story. It wasn’t completely untrue but the elements of it were certainly embellished or left unstated -- whether that was for Josie’s sake or not, she couldn’t tell. “We don’t -- I said, we’d never --.” Quickly, she shut up, knowing that stammering made her look guilty. And, while she’s only acknowledged what happened at homecoming last year once she had no intention of doing so again. “You must have me confused with some of other blonde because, if my memory serves me correct, there were plenty willing and ready to throw themselves at you.” Clearing her throat, she was happy to change the subject, hopefully to never return to it again.
“Fuck you, Oliver.” She countered defiantly, not at all demure or polite in his presence. “You are in my office, I can talk to you anyway I want.” Letting out a sigh, she felt the reigns of control shifting back in her direction, which brought her to ease. Leaning on the side of her desk, Josie rolling her eyes as he spoke, her eyes landed on the bouquet settled to her right. And immediately she was pissed all over again at pink and white peonies from her favorite flower shop and that he a stupidly perfect response for his absence. “You may be my oldest but you’re not my only client, Oliver. So, if you fuck up, the kid playing Batman or the new guy playing Bond will feed my shopping sprees at Neiman Marcus.” She noted, somewhat rudely as remainder of the boundaries she constantly tries to keep in place. “If you’re going to miss something, you call me. Understand? You’re lucky the business editor has a hard-on for you. So, I don’t want to hear your mouth when I set up a dinner for you two to chat, got it?” When he moves closer, she stands upright, even though her heels in does little to make up for the massive height difference that exists between them. Grabbing his tie, she tugged him a little closer. “You show up on time, cut the bullshit,slap on the pretty boy smile, wear that blue Tom Ford suit that makes your eyes pop and you charm the shit out of her. Can you do that? Can you be a good boy for me, Oliver?”
