“Well, I’m glad you’re sticking around,” she said. “You’re spunky. I’m Sam, by the way.”
“Beauty,” I said, shaking her hand.
“Oh, honey,” Sam laughed. “Everyone knows your name after yesterday.”
I cringed. That felt more like a bad thing than a good thing.
“Well, I better go focus on not spilling Roland’s coffee on his newspaper,” I joked.
“Don’t let anyone hear you call him by his first name” she hissed, surprising me. “They’ll think you actually like him.”
“Like him?” I frowned and shook my head. “I don’t like him. And he definitely doesn’t like me.”
“He doesn’t like anyone,” Sam confirmed. “Well, good luck in there, soldier.”
“Thanks,” I said, laughing and feeling uncomfortable at the same time. I felt almost traitorous talking about Roland behind his back. He’d helped me probably more than he’d helped anyone in this building. So why did all of these people work here if they all hated him so much?
I stopped by the break room, filled a mug full of freshly brewed coffee, and took small, slow steps to ensure all of the hot liquid stayed firmly in the cup. I was going to do this right today. I wasn’t even going to give him a reason to shout at me.
There was something almost comforting, though, in the knowledge that if he did shout at me, it was just another part of my self-enforced punishment. I’d take the licks and keep on going for as long as I was employed here. Having a clear plan—no matter how messed up it might have been—was strangely nice.
Myra’s purse was on our desk, but she was off to parts unknown again. Was I going to be that busy once I took over for her? The thought lingered in my mind as I leaned against Roland’s office door, knocked with the hand securing the paper, and entered.
“I have your coffee and paper here, Mr. Shepard, just as you asked,” I announced as cheerily as possible for so early in the morning.
“No, not as I asked.” He was seated at the desk, like yesterday, but the chair was turned around. He was hunched over the keyboard to his computer, his phone display alight, working hard. The office was just as dark today as it was yesterday, the only source of light coming from his devices and that single lamp on the desk.
“Not as you asked?” I repeated. “I promise that I paid for the paper, and the coffee is hot, and I haven’t spilled any of it…yet.”
“Would you care to tell me what time it is?”
My eyes darted around the room for a clock, but the light was just too dim. I jammed the paper under my arm and fished around in my purse until I came up with my cellphone, keeping my eyes on the coffee mug, willing the beverage to stay put with all of my strength.
I mashed the button to engage the display.
“It’s eight o’clock,” I said, confident.
“Wrong.” He pointed at his own phone. “It’s 8:03.”
“I rounded down,” I admitted. “If it was 8:05, I would’ve gone up to 8:10.”
“When I say that your day begins at eight o’clock sharp, that’s what I mean. It’s not three minutes after, not five minutes after, not ten minutes after. Not thirty seconds after. Eight in the morning. Precisely. If you find you need to get here a little earlier to ensure you’re on time, do what you need to do.”
His words were harsh, but his tone was mild. I absorbed this information without so much as a noise of protest.
“I understand, Mr. Shepard, and I’m sorry,” I said. “It won’t happen again.”
“Don’t waste my time with apologizes,” he said, taking the paper from me first and then the coffee, his fingers brushing mine and making me shudder inexplicably. “Just get it right the next time.”
“Yes, of course,” I babbled. I could still feel his fingers on mine but had no idea why they’d made such a strong impression. It had been an accident, our hands touching. Was it because of that terrible scar? Did it repulse me?
“Anything else?” Roland asked pointedly. I realized that he was staring at me, staring at him, and I quickly lowered my gaze.
“No, sir,” I said, “oh, except this.” I located my wallet and extracted his credit card. “Thank you, again, for everything. This may sound kind of stupid to someone…well, someone like you, but it’s really fun to be able to get a huge tub of ice cream and not have to eat all of it at one time. I’ve never had my own freezer before!”
He gave me an odd look that I couldn’t quite define before taking the card from me.
“You also got a cellphone, I see,” he said, not acknowledging my gratitude again, or somewhat thankfully, my awkward admission about the ice cream.
“Yes,” I said. “It seems like there’s kind of a steep learning curve, but I’m pretty confident I’ll get the hang of it.”
“Email me your number,” he said shortly, looking back down at his keyboard before launching into a storm of typing. “You need to be available at all times as my assistant. I need to be able to count on you if I reach out and need something done.”
“Of course,” I said, bowing like an idiot before spinning around to hide my burning blush. Why was I so stupid and awkward around this man? “I’ll email you right now—as soon as I get back to the desk. No problem. Just let me know—or Myra, she’s still here, obviously—if you need anything. When you need anything, I mean. I know you’re really busy and you need lots of things.”
“Beauty?”
“Yes?” I turned around eagerly. “What can I do for you?”
“Shut up and leave.” He’d never stopped typing.
I all but ran to the door, more to escape my embarrassment than to escape the man still seated at that desk, running a company in the dark.
“There you are!” Myra exclaimed, as I popped back into the main office. This place was so much friendlier than Roland’s cave. Maybe it was just the lighting, but it even felt easier to breath out here.
“Sorry I ran off yesterday,” I said, sheepish, but Myra waved my apology away.
“Well, you already know the worst of your new job, which is to say that your boss can be a little difficult.” She smiled. “But since that little bit of unpleasantness has passed, we can continue your training.”
Myra said it like Roland’s temper was nothing, just something to endure now that I’d seen it myself.
“Does it ever get better?” I asked, taking the day’s box of documents to be digitized from her and opening the lid.
“Better?” She blinked at me.
“I mean, does he ever stop yelling and stuff?”
“You have to understand, Beauty,” she began, “just how much stress that poor man in there is under. He’s running this big company through a computer and a phone and his brother. If his temper’s short, it’s only because he doesn’t have very much time to waste on anything else.”
“So he was easier to get along with before the company was really successful?” I asked, cocking my head to the side.
“Well, sure, he was really easy to get along with before…” Myra trailed off and frowned.
“Before what?” I prompted. Whether she liked it or not, this training was going to include all the company gossip. I felt like I needed to know if I was going to be the man’s assistant.
“Did I show you where the company cafeteria was yesterday?” she asked, completely shifting tack. “You ran out so soon. I had a list of things I was going to teach you yesterday, and another one for today. Now we have to get through both of them today—and that blasted box of documents.”
I hid a small smile behind my hand. If Myra was going to stonewall me, fine. And if she was going to make me feel guilty for leaving her here all alone yesterday morning, fine again. I had other sources now. I was sure I could get my new friend, Sam, the receptionist, to divulge some secrets.