Page 31 of The Relationship Clause

“Nothing! Have a nice day!” Then she runs away as Junie finally untangles herself from the knot of men around her and heads my way. I make it a point to not watch her long legs as they sashay into the room. I’m already in a bad enough mood as it is.

“Good morning, Mr. Ferguson,” Junie sings as she breezes into my office. Today she’s wearing what I’ve come to decide is my favorite shade of lip gloss, the same soft pink she wore her first day here. The willpower it takes to keep from staring at said lips is pure torture in and of itself. But I am nothing if not practiced in the art of smothering my personal desires for the sake of professionalism.

“Here’s your usual.” She sets down my coffee and a pastry on the side of my desk like she always does. She leans over and places something else in front of me, and when she does, her hair falls over her shoulder and I catch a whiff of her fruity shampoo. I maybe inhale a little too deeply and have to cover with a cough.

Okay, so my ability to smother my personal desires is a little rusty. I blame my therapist for that one. Darn feelings and emotions and not suppressing them.

Junie doesn’t seem to notice, thank goodness. “And here are two birthday cards for today. They’re for Octavia and Matt. This time make sure you write more than just your name.”

“I still don’t see why this is necessary,” I say, but I take the pen she hands me nonetheless. I’ve learned the day goes much smoother if we don’t start the morning off with an argument.

“If I have to explain to you why this is absolutely necessary, again, then you’re not half as good a boss as I thought you were.”

She winks at me, and I almost drop my pen. Focus.

I finish signing the cards—yes, with more than just my name—and Junie briefs me on my day. It’s a part of my morning that I’ve come to look forward to. The way she lays it out for me helps me feel grounded and settled.

She’s finishing up when a text buzzes from my phone. Tension knots up my shoulders before I even finish reading it.

Kiera: Code Mom. Repeat: Code Mom. Hiding in bathroom. Let me know when the coast is clear.

“Mr. Ferguson?” Junie’s voice makes me jump. “Is something…” She trails off as she follows my eyes to where we can both see my mother striding in from the elevator, her heels clicking on the floor like she’s trying to pierce the tiles with every step.

This isn’t the first surprise visit from Mother since Junie started working here. In fact, I think her visits have become this frequent because of my new secretary.

“Ugh, seriously? Why is she here, again?” Junie mutters. I’m torn on how to respond because one, I feel the exact same way, but two, I shouldn’t let my secretary talk like that to her boss about her boss’s mother. Should I?

Before I can make any decisions though, Junie turns like a soldier standing at attention. “Sir. Permission to throw down the hammer, sir?”

“Throw down the hammer?”

She stomps one foot. “Yes, sir. Thank you, sir. Don’t worry about the bogey sir, I’ll handle it.”

“What? No. Miss Cousins, you don’t have to—”

“Just pick up your phone and pretend you’re busy.”

I don’t move, and suddenly Junie turns my window opaque. We’re plunged into a sudden sense of intimacy and closeness that wasn’t there before. Then she’s in my personal space, reaching across me and my desk to pick up the phone. I register the heat from her body and the silken fabric from her shirt, and then the phone is shoved into my hand.

Before I can say anything, Junie is out of my office and closing the door behind her right as my mother reaches her.

“Ms. Burton, what a surprise.” Junie’s cheerful secretary voice is extra loud and only slightly muffled by the closed door. “I don’t have you on the schedule this morning.”

I can’t see what’s going on, but my imagination is having a heyday picturing the reaction Mother must be having to this. “Of course you don’t. This is a surprise visit.”

“I’m so sorry, but Mr. Ferguson has a busy schedule this morning. He’s on the phone with a supplier right now, in fact. If you’re not on the schedule, I’m afraid he won’t be able to see you today.”

Oh. My. Gosh.

“Won’t be able to see me?” Even through the door, I can hear that dangerous note enter Mother’s voice. “Do you know who I am?”

“I’m well aware of who you are, Ms. Burton, and I’m also aware of my duties as Mr. Ferguson’s secretary.”

“This is ridiculous. Move aside. I have business with my son.”

“If this is truly a business call, then I’m sure you won’t mind scheduling a time to meet with Mr. Ferguson. If it is a personal call, then you shouldn’t have a problem speaking with your son after office hours.”

I’ve completely forgotten the fake phone call I’m supposed to be having. I can’t believe what I’m hearing. What should I do? Rush out there and save Junie from an early death? Tell Mom it was a joke and hope she takes it out on me instead of Junie?

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