Page 5 of Hard on the Boss

He grumbles out a protest under his breath. Propping his elbows up on the table, William’s hands open like a book and dropping his head inside them, he pushes his fingertips into his scalp, thick dark hair I wish I could also touch, then rubs ten fingers down his face, then looks at me.

“I don’t know what to say.”

“Well I can’t do it for you, William. You’re the writer.”

“I make up stories.”

“This process can’t be all that different, can it?”

He furrows those brows. “You’re kidding.”

“Think about when you sit down to write a new scene. How do you start?”

“It starts with the feeling,” William answers, leaning back, crossing his arms, appearing thoughtful. “Do I want the reader to be sad, hopeful, horny”—he smirks—“on the edge of their seat—”

“Okay, there. Now think about the conference. How do you want the writers who are listening to feel?”

He proffers a shrug. “How do they want to feel?”

“Eeeasy,” I stretch the word out, scolding him. Smiling big so he knows I’m playing. “You’re going to put me out of a job thinking brilliantly like that.”

“Don’t flatter me.”

“I’m not. That was really good. Empathy. That’s our whole purpose here. Delivering empathy.”

“I thought it was just ‘social code’,” William mocks, as if testing me out.

I bring my elbow up to the table. William gives it a scandalized look, rearing back. Grinning sheepishly, I half shrug then nest my cheek into my hand. “What is a code? It’s a way of communicating. You telegraph your part. The receiver interprets. Whether it’s a reader, a listener. A lover.” Did—I—just?

“You’re smart, you know that,” he says with a wink that turns my knees into honey and my nipples into spikes. “Just don’t be getting ahead of yourself, Care-Mare. I am going to need you to keep your job.”

“Two more weeks,” I chirp.

“Scuse me?”

“Two more weeks…you know, ’til your big night.”

“And then what.” He scowls at me. “You think I’m getting rid of you after that? No ma’am. There’re going to be more of these…appearances,” he says, sounding unenthused.

“What are you saying? You want me to keep working for you after the conference?”

“I need you, swee—Marin. You have helped so much.” He says it sincerely. Have I though?

My heart splits in half, then half again. Again and again. What he’s telling me…gah. It is so kind of him, and soo disappointing. Part of me was starting to feel like I’ve maybe found my calling in being an etiquette coach/instructor/trainer…whatever it is I’d decide to put on the business card.

The other part of me, a bigger part, was looking forward to getting off his payroll. That would be the day when he would no longer technically be my boss.

Because then what…I’d make my move? Hah!

Maybe.

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