The Boss(hole) by Penelope Bloom
Jules
Ihummed to myself while I set up Adrian’s calendar for the day. “Adrian Terranova,” I muttered under my breath. I had to admit it was a much more fitting name for him than Adrian White.
I popped up from my chair and went to the breakroom. I’d been so focused on surviving that I had been taking my lunch at my desk. The breakroom was a hub of activity during the lunch hour, and I’d seen enough dirty looks from my colleagues to guess I wouldn’t be entirely welcome there. I felt socially stunted when it came to this sort of thing.
When I was Juliette Coleton, I never met somebody who didn’t want to butter me up and become best friends. I’d needed an entirely different skill set to survive. I had to figure out who was genuinely interested in being my friend and who was looking to use me. The fact that none of my “friends” had made a serious effort to reach out and connect told me all I needed to know. Yes, I’d dropped off the grid, but I was still screening calls and texts on my old phone. I’d told them I was on a little vacation, and they’d all been happy to accept that and forget I ever existed, apparently.
Now I had Anastasia and that was essentially it. I made a mental note to find time to hang out with her soon because ever since we’d had lunch together, I’d let work and Adrian consume everything. Other than a few texts, I’d barely talked to her since before New Orleans.
It was time to give the breakroom a try, I decided. I took my lunch into the breakroom to microwave it. Today’s lunch was Salisbury Steak in a cheap little black plastic bowl with mashed potatoes and gravy. It looked deliciously disgusting and I couldn’t wait. One of my favorite parts of my new life was getting to eat all the processed garbage my parents would’ve never let me touch before.
I stepped into the breakroom and heard conversation immediately die off. There were four people waiting around a large table in the center of the modest sized room. I recognized everyone’s faces by now, but didn’t have all the names pegged down.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt,” I said.
Everybody except a woman who was waiting on the microwave ducked their heads, gave that distinctly awkward pressing the lips together that sort of functions as a smile look, and shuffled out of the room.
“Don’t worry about them,” the girl said. She was maybe in her early twenties and wearing a cute black dress with tennis shoes. She had on thick glasses and her blonde hair was long and wild. “I’m Lythe, by the way.”
“Jules,” I said, sticking my hand out. She grinned at it, then reached out and shook it. “Why do I get the vibe they don’t like me?”
“There are two sides here. You’re either in his inner circle, or outside it. Nobody really wants to risk talking to someone in his inner circle. Or associating with them in any way, honestly. Too risky.”
I thought about protesting but didn’t want to reward Lythe’s good will by lying to her face. “I get it,” I said, lifting my little microwave dinner box. “I just need to heat this up and then I can go back to eat at the front desk.”
“Nah, it’s okay. I’m this close to quitting.” she held up her index finger and thumb a hair’s width apart. “If you get me fired, it’ll save me the trouble of putting in my notice.”
I grinned. “I’m not sure if I should be flattered, insulted, or something in between.”
“You’re welcome,” she said simply. “So, what’s he really like, anyway?”
“Who, Adrian?”
Lythe flicked her eyebrows up and shook her head like she’d just had a sip of something far too strong. “Wow, you’re really in that inner circle of his, aren’t you? Right up his ass, practically.”
“What? Why?”
“You two are on a first name basis. That’s unheard of. Rumor was a guy called him Adrian by mistake on his first day a few months ago. He didn’t even get a chance to clean out his desk. Adrian hired a moving company to carry down a stapler, two folders, and a rolled up motivational poster that same afternoon.”
“I don’t know,” I said. “He can be really intense, but I don’t think he’s as bad as everyone around here seems to believe.”
The microwave dinged and Lythe pulled out a steaming cup of soup. Judging by the smell, it was broccoli and cheese. “That’s probably what I’d say, too. If I was riding on a shark’s back while it devoured helpless swimmers at the beach, that is.”
I squinted. “Why wouldn’t you poke it in the eyes and try to get it to stop murdering people?”
Lythe raised one eyebrow. “Good question, actually.”
“And for the record, the reason he hired Walker back was because I said I wouldn’t take the job unless he did. So I haven’t just let the shark eat everybody.”
“Wow. Now I feel bad we’ve all been avoiding you.”
“So you guys have been avoiding me on purpose?”
“It’s nothing personal,” Lythe said. “Think about it this way. Mr. White’s personal assistants don’t usually last long. And when they go, they tend to go down in flames. Would you want anything to do with an airplane you knew was almost statistically guaranteed to crash?”
“What’s with all the depressing metaphors?” I asked.
“I think it’s less offensive to tell someone via metaphor that they are cursed and you’ve been too scared to be dragged down with them when they inevitably get fired. Don’t you?”
I ran my tongue across my teeth, nodding. “Now that you put it that way. Yeah, actually.” I laughed, and Lythe smiled in return.
“It’s not like he really takes my advice or anything,” I said. “But if there’s a chance for me to get him to take it easy on you guys, I’ll do whatever I can.” At that moment, I felt something between my legs and remembered Adrian’s seed was still inside me. Worse, I wasn’t even wearing panties. I pressed my thighs together, suddenly feeling ridiculous for trying to downplay my connection with Adrian when I’d just given my virginity to him in his office that same day.
“I’ll tell you this much,” Lythe said. “If you get him to lighten up, you’ll be a hero around here.”
Lythe tipped her cup to me like a salute, then left the breakroom. I was still microwaving my lunch when Adrian opened the door.
The small room didn’t feel big enough to contain him. He loomed in the doorway for a moment, seeming to decide whether it was wise to come in. Then he entered and looked around. “It’s a mess in here.”
“Don’t visit much?” I asked.
“No, not much,” he said.
I tilted my head. “Then what brings you today?”
Adrian ran his thumb across the stubble on his chin, grinning like he’d been caught doing something wrong but wasn’t about to apologize. “Some of the men in the office treat the breakroom like a place to pick up women. I wanted to make sure you were able to use the microwave in peace.”
“So you’re trying to scare any men off from hitting on me? Lucky for you they already seem scared of me. Everybody but Lythe scattered like cockroaches as soon as I walked in.”
“Why would they do that?”
“Believe it or not, your employees are so terrified of you that they don’t even want to associate with your assistant.”
I expected a smart ass comment from him, but he just hung his head and shook it. “I’m sorry, Jules. I’ll speak with them about the way they’re treating you and make sure they are more welcoming.”
“That’s okay,” I said quickly. The microwave dinged and I reached in to pull my lunch free, blowing away the steam. “I think you might just scare them even more if you try to help. But I appreciate the offer.”
Adrian turned his lip up at my salisbury steak. “Jesus Christ. What is that?”
“Lunch,” I said.
“No. It’s not.” He took the tray from me and carried it to the trashcan, dropping it inside. “You’ll get some kind of chemical poisoning from eating that shit.”
I stared at him, mouth still hanging open. “You threw away my lunch? Seriously?”
“I’ll take you to get a real lunch. I won’t have you eating that.”
“Now you’re watching my weight?” I asked with a dangerous edge to my voice.
“We can get cheeseburgers and fries for all I care. I just won’t have you eating out of microwavable plastic dishes.”
I folded my arms. “Next time you want to make a point, maybe ask me first. We could’ve given that food to a homeless person outside at least.” Even though he was dangerously close to taking the same stance my parents had on processed food, I had to at least give him a pass for saying we could still get cheeseburgers. I guess I couldn’t fault the guy for not wanting me to ingest little bits of microwaved plastic and probably poison myself, even if he was being overprotective.
He sighed. “You’re right. We’ll buy some takeout from wherever we go and give it out on our way back. Fair?”
I smiled. “That’s fair. Yeah. So do we have to put on masks and sneak out of here like ninjas? Do we go separate? Maybe work out a code word so we can secretly communicate which route we’re taking out of the office?”
“Um,” he said. “I was thinking we could just walk out a few minutes apart. I go first, then you go. We meet outside the building.”
“Oh,” I said. “Yeah. That makes sense, too.”