Page 3 of Bossed By The Boggart

His vivid pink gaze glows as if he is drinking in my snark. For all I know, he probably is. Some monsters—demons—feed off of human emotion.

Although a boggart isn’t technically a demon, I’m pretty sure it’s not a stretch to classify him as one.

“I do have a few suggestions for the campaign.”

My pulse skyrockets while I clench my hands into tight fists, reminding myself that I can’t punch my boss for a multitude of reasons.

“I would love to hear them—” Not. “—Why don’t you email them over?”

This not-so-subtle hint isn’t lost on Mr. Ettin, who flashes another shark-toothed smile. “Actually, I would like to discuss them now.”

It takes all my strength to stifle the groan threatening to burst past my lips. I sit down, taking out a pad of paper and a pen with zero intention of taking notes.

Mr. Ettin stares at me for a few more moments, no doubt intent on discomforting me more, before rattling off a handful of ideas that are good—but not as great as mine.

When he finishes speaking, I tactfully attempt to tell him what I think without sounding like a pompous ass whilst getting myself fired.

To my surprise, Mr. Ettin takes my critique of his thoughts rather well, nodding and taking notes of his own.

“I see your points, Wyn, but I’m going to have to continue to disagree with you.”

“If we were to do the ideas you proposed, we would be putting the entire campaign at risk—and I don’t make this company money by taking unnecessary risks.”

“Haven’t you ever heard of ‘no risk, no reward’? It’s literally the backbone of entrepreneurship. How can we expect to capitalize if we don’t take chances?”

“There’s nothing wrong with ‘taking chances’ if you know the odds are stacked in your favor, but what you want isn’t. I know when the risk is worth it, and when it isn’t.”

“Would you be willing to bet on that?”

The damned competitive streak that flows through my veins rises to the challenge without hesitation. “Absolutely.”

“Then how about a friendly wager?”

“W-wager?”

Now, I’m not so sure. I can’t afford to lose my job, even though I know I’m right, but my boss waves his hand, wisps of dark blue smoke trailing after the movement.

“Nothing big. We can only stake for something inconsequential, like a cup of coffee.”

My shoulders relax. “Alright, what are the parameters?”

“We each run the campaign with a set budget that we agree upon to see whose ideas are better.”

For the next few minutes, we haggle over the details before writing it down. When I’m sure there’s no loophole for him to use his millions to cheat, I ask the next pertinent question.

“And if you win, what do you get?”

“Let’s shake on it first.”

Instantly, I balk. “No, tell me what you want.”

“What do you want?”

“Gender neutral bathrooms.”

My answer seems to throw him, but he nods his agreement. I wait for his response, but instead of answering, he just holds his hand out to shake. I glare at the man.

“Come on, Wyn, are you scared?”

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