The Boss Project by Vi Keeland

He followed me into my office and set the bags down on the coffee table in the patient treatment area. Then he picked up a shard of glass I’d forgotten when I left Friday night. He looked around the room. “Did something break?”

“No, I brought that with me.”

He flipped it around in his fingers. “Is it sea glass?”

I nodded.

“It’s an unusual color.”

“Turquoise is the second rarest color for sea glass. Orange is the first.”

Merrick lifted a brow. “Sea glass expert?”

“A little. I collect it.” I walked over and took the piece from his hand. “I shouldn’t give you any more ammunition to think I’m a quack, but that’s one of my lucky pieces. I meant to put it in my desk drawer the other night for safekeeping before I left.”

He smirked. “Lucky sea glass, huh?”

I wagged a finger at him. “Be nice.”

“Who are your first patients today?”

“Ummm… Let me check the order.” I went to my desk and got my calendar out of the drawer. “I started with the most senior people, so I have Will Silver at nine, Lark Renquist at eleven, and then this afternoon I have Colette Archwood and Marcus Lindey.”

“Will is a cocky bastard, but he has good reason to be. He’s talented. Lark was promoted last year. He’s young, and the older guys don’t like to report to him because they don’t feel like he’s paid his dues. It doesn’t help that he looks even younger than his age, and won’t grow a five o’clock shadow even after a marathon forty-eight hours in the office. Colette hates my guts. And Marcus is currently interviewing with our biggest competitor and doesn’t think I know.”

“Oh, wow. I appreciate the insight. But why does Colette hate you?”

“It’s a long story.” Merrick nodded toward the bags he’d set down. “Did I earn a cookie?”

I smiled. “Help yourself. There’s chocolate chip and peanut butter chunk.”

He reached into the bag and slipped a cookie out of each of the top two containers. Biting off half a peanut butter one with a single chomp, he waved it at me. “Peanut butter is my weakness.”

I might’ve remembered that when I was figuring out what to bake. But I kept that to myself.

He popped the rest in his mouth and spoke with it full. “You probably shouldn’t have told me you make these when you’re excited or angry. These cookies are the shit, and I’m really good at pissing employees off.”

I laughed. “You can also just ask.”

Merrick nodded and reached for the bag a second time. He swiped a few more peanut butter cookies and winked before heading out. When he reached the door, I called after him.

“Hey, Superman.”

He looked back.

“You think a Wonder Woman stance would work, too?”

His eyes did a quick sweep over me before a dirty grin spread across his face. “Had a huge crush on Wonder Woman when I was a kid. Whoever designed her outfit was a damn genius.”



• • •



“Should I lie down?” Will pointed to the couch.

“If you’d like, but you don’t have to.”

He jumped into the air and flounced down on the couch. He stretched his long legs out and propped his head up on a pillow with his hands tucked behind it. “Ah… This is kind of nice. I don’t know why everyone is moaning and groaning about having to come here. It’s better than kindergarten. You get milk and cookies, and then it’s nap time.”

I smiled. “Well, nap position anyway. The idea isn’t really for you to go to sleep.”

“No worries. I couldn’t fall asleep during the day if someone had a gun to my head.” Will motioned to his head and twirled his finger around. “Once this on switch gets flipped, it’s on until it runs out of power, around two AM usually.”

“Two AM? I saw you here at seven the other morning.”

“I don’t require a lot of sleep.”

“Were either of your parents that way?”

Will nodded. “My mom. She could sleep four or five hours a night and be good to go. My dad always said she was just afraid she’d miss a conversation.”

“It’s actually genetic for some people,” I said. “A few years ago, they found a gene mutation that can get passed through families. It’s called the ADRB1 gene. It causes a shortened sleep cycle.”

“No shit? I always knew I was a mutant.”

I chuckled.

Will sprang upright and put his feet on the floor. “It feels weird to talk to you without looking at you. Why is it always that way in the movies?”

“Freud believed having patients not make eye contact made them feel freer, that people were more relaxed and likely to say whatever came to their mind when they weren’t focused on being watched and were in the supine position.”

“Is that true?”

“For some people. It’s whatever makes you feel more comfortable.”

Will nodded. “So how does this work? Where do we start?”

“I like to start slow, get to know each other a little bit.”

“Okay. Shoot. What do you want to know?”

I picked up the steno pad and pen I had set on the table next to me and flipped to the first open page. “Have you ever been to therapy before?”