Page 6 of Defensive Hero

“What do you mean?” I ask, hugging the papers I just printed defensively to my chest. Mr. Hile—whom I secretly call him Wilson in my head—has a printer in his office, but I didn’t want to bother him, so I opted for this one.

“Those girls that ran off,” Martha says, nodding at the women who just fled the room. “They were talking about you.”

“Huh?”

“You’ve probably heard about what happened to Mr. Hile’s last assistant.”

I shake my head. “I didn’t ask.”

“She ran out of the office sobbing, and we never heard from her again,” The blonde girl says, earning a glare from Martha, but that doesn’t stop her. “The one before that only lasted a day before he stomped out of the building, cursing Mr. Hile’s name under his breath.”

I gasp, bringing my hand to my mouth, but a part of me is excited to finally be included in the office gossip. “Why do you think that happened?”

The two ladies look up at me in confusion. “You are joking, right?” the blonde girl asks, and I shake my head.

“No, I’m not. Did they come across a difficult client?”

“A difficult client?” she sputters, turning to Martha in disbelief. “Is she kidding?”

It feels like I am missing something but have no idea what the heck it is. “I think she’s being serious, Patty,” Martha says, but even she is staring at me like I’ve grown a second head, and when she speaks, her voice is soft and warm, motherly. “Sandy, how is it working under Mr. Hile?”

“He is nice,” I tell her. “I mean, sometimes he can be a grump when he doesn’t want to be bothered, but so far, I like working for him.”

It seems as though the people around us are listening as the room falls silent when I am done. “D-did she call Mr. Hile…nice?” Patty asks, leaning against the printer and staring at me in disbelief. “That man is a monster. He is the devil incarnate.”

“Careful…” Martha warns.

“No, do you remember the time my boss asked me to deliver a case file to his office? I made a tiny error in the report, and he tore me a new one. His exact words were ‘I don’t welcome incompetence in my workspace; I don’t know why your boss hasn’t fired you yet,’ all because I made one small error.”

Well, that doesn’t sound like Wilson at all, but I don’t say that. Something tells me calling him nice might not be welcome in the sea of coworkers nodding and sympathizing with Patty’s story.

Someone else chimes in with a horror story about my boss, and then another, and soon, the words from those other girls who ran away begin to make much more sense, so I turn to Martha. “Is there really a bet about how long I will be here before I get fired?”

It’s Patty who answers me. “Mr. Hile doesn’t fire people. He never lets you stick around long enough for you to make a mistake that will force him to fire you. He’ll just show his awful personality and send you running off on your own.”

It feels like they are talking about a completely different person. Wilson is demanding, sure, but so are all the other people I have worked for. I interpret the workload as him trusting me to do my job well, and isn’t that why I came here anyway? Even so, I don’t downplay anyone’s experience and choose to remain silent.

A bet!

I shake off the thought as I turn to head back to my workstation. It’s almost time to clock out, but I am not done withmy work so I plan to stay a little longer. I could take work home, but I am not too excited to head back to the studio apartment I am renting. It doesn’t feel like home quite yet, and I would much rather work here instead of carrying all these files back home with me.

I bury myself in work and don’t look up until my phone buzzes. I tap the screen, startled to find it’s a few minutes past seven. I sit up quickly, surprised I have been here that long, but one look at Wilson’s door and the light coming from under it tells me I am not the only one working late tonight.

I need to head home so I am not too tired for tomorrow’s meeting. Wilson mentioned he would be meeting one of his biggest clients, and I assume as his assistant, he wants me to come along. I am equally excited and nervous because truly, a criminal defense lawyer’s biggest client must be a scary person.

I should clock out and go home. Well, I should have done so three hours ago.

I shut down the computer and pack my things into my bag, ready to leave, but before I do that, I find my eyes shifting back to the light under his door. It’s madness to worry about the man, I know. I haven’t known him for a full week, and yet, a part of me worries that he’s not taking care of himself.

Has he eaten?

Surely the least I can do for him is order his dinner before leaving, right?

That’s not weird. I get the man his coffee every morning, so it wouldn’t be out of left field if I ordered his dinner. I grab my phone, ready to place an order when I realize I don’t know what my boss likes.

I should probably ask him. I bite my lip and stare at his door. Before the conversation this afternoon, I wasn’t wary of my boss, but now, after everything I’ve heard about him from the others…

Stop it, Sandy. He has given you no reason to be scared of him.

---