Page 3 of A Merry Christmas for Art… and His Tentacles

“Every time we lose a lab tech, I have to hire someone new. Do you have any idea how long our security clearance process takes?”

I shake my head again.

“Apparently, I can’t fire you. The board said your big brain was ‘irreplaceable.’” Frank does air quotes around the word “irreplaceable,” like he doesn’t agree. Dean Miller visibly cringes.

This is humiliating. I force myself to stay visible, even though I desperately want to disappear.

“That means I have to figure out another way to prevent you from offending people.” Frank turns to Dean Miller. “This is where you come in.”

“I’m supposed to prevent Art from offending people?” he asks.

“Exactly. You get along with everyone, so you’re going to teach Art how to interact with people in a way that doesn’t make them want to quit. You’re also going to work side-by-side with him all day and smooth over any unpleasant interactions he may have with the rest of the staff.”

Dean Miller chews on his bottom lip in a way that makes me wonder what it might feel like if I got to chew on his bottom lip. This is such a bad idea. I won’t be able to focus around him. The only thing keeping me from getting fired is my brain, and he turns it to putty.

“I don’t want to work side-by-side with Dean Miller,” I say.

“Too bad. I may not be able to fire you, but I can demand that you do this. I am still your boss.”

That is very unfortunate.

Dean Miller smiles at me. “Working with me won’t bethatbad. I can teach you a few tips and tricks to getting along with the lab techs,” he says. “It’s not so hard once you get the hang of it.”

He doesn’t understand. I’ve been trying to “get along” with people my entire life. When I was younger, I was desperate to make friends, but nothing I tried ever worked. People outside my family don’t like me. They never will. It’s easier to keep to myself, even if it gets lonely sometimes.

However, I love this job. I don’t like Frank or the ridiculous grant applications we have to waste time with to fund our research, but the work itself is important. I truly believe it will help people.

“What if you locked me away in a room every day where I couldn’t speak to anyone?” I suggest.

Frank sighs. “For Christ’s sake, Art. This isn’t optional.”

“What if we just did it for a month?” Dean Miller says. “Christmas break is a month away. We could try it until then. If you absolutely loathe every minute with me, you’ll get to take a week off and drink too much eggnog before you have to come back.”

A month is a very long time.

“Cephalopod shifters don’t celebrate Christmas,” I tell him.

“Okay. Sorry. That was presumptuous of me. You can take the week off doing whatever cephalopods do when they’re forced to take their PTO during a Christian holiday when traveling is exorbitantly expensive and it’s too cold to spend time outside.”

I can’t help but smile a little bit at that. He’s right. Christmas is a terrible time for everyone else to use their PTO. There’s nothing more traditional amongst cephalopods than complaining about Christmas break.

Damn it. This is why I’m always flustered around Dean Miller. He’s not only visually pleasing, he’s funny.

“I would rather work in solitude,” I say.

Frank clears his throat. “You’re forgetting this isn’t optional. I’ll put you on probation if you refuse, and neither of us wants that.”

Fear coils in my gut. It will take me another six years to complete the research that cannot continue without me. Something like probation could put all of that in jeopardy.

“Fine. If I must put up with Dean Miller until December 23rd, then I will.”

Frank clenches his jaw and looks up at the ceiling, even though there is nothing but drywall up there. “That is exactly the kind of thing you can’t say anymore, Art.”

“It’s okay—” Dean Miller starts, but Frank glares at him.

“You’re supposed to teach him how to interact with people.”

Dean Miller shrugs. “We have a whole month to work on it. Today we’ll go over some basic ground rules and phrases to avoid.”

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