Page 8 of Infamous Heart

I laughed. “Artistic? You provide no direction to the magazine. We’ve been driving the ship since you got here. If we didn’t respect one another, you’d have us putting trash on the newsstand.”

“Where is this hostility coming from?” As I spiraled, my face turning red with anger, he remained calm. “Is this because you didn’t receive the senior designer position?”

“Don’t turn this around on me.”

“Like I said on the phone. You’re a valuable member of the team, but you need more experience managing creatives. Perhaps in a year or two, when you have the respect of your peers, you’ll be ready.”

Perhaps Vincent had a point. I could always use more managerial experience, but—I growled. I wish I had recorded the conversation to point out the inconsistencies in his story. This wasn’t about a bad boss. The man attempted to gaslight me, and I continued to fall for his guise of sincerity.

“It seems there is a miscommunication about the roles of each position. Mr. Bailey, you would do well to better oversee your staff. Mr. Smith, you—“

“No. This isn’t about positions or titles. Mr. Bossman, I care about this magazine. There’s nobody here with more love for the superhero community. Vincent is going to alienate your talent and without us, the Beacon is doomed.”

“Mr. Smith,” the man leaned forward on his desk, resting his elbows on the glossy surface. His fingers laced together as he carefully picked his words. “Are you giving me an ultimatum?”

Locking eyes with Vincent, I forced my lip down, hiding my grinding teeth. I didn’t come into this meeting worried about losing my job, but it had quickly taken a turn.

“As a businessman…” The Griffin from this morning would have backed down and shied away from the confrontation. Normally, I’d have said my apologies and taken my lashes, but something in my chest burned. Was this self-respect? “As a businessman, you have a decision on the table. It’s him or me. Eventually, it’ll be him or the rest of your staff.”

“Griffin, I’m sure we can find a way to improve your skills for the next time the position opens.” Vincent couldn’t help himself, the need to salt a fresh wound.

“Have a wonderful day, Mr. Bossman.”

With that, I turned around and left. My career had been carefully set on the chopping board and I expected by the time I reached the lobby, I’d be unemployed. Already, the conversation replayed in my head as I dissected each statement. I’m sure once I reached the street, I’d regret every decision, but until the self-doubt dragged me under, I’d celebrate my dignity.

* * *

“I respect you so much right now.”

“Thanks Alejandro, I think.”

“Griff, this guy has been walking all over you. He deserves to be fired. You’re like a superhero at the magazine.”

The park had become our regular hang out after work.

We indulged in our love of street food while people watching. Joggers squeezed in a late run while moms pushed strollers gossiping about their days. The splashing of the water fountain offered a bit of serenity in an otherwise busy city.

While I wrapped up my workday, Alejandro was just crawling out of bed, preparing to head to the night club and begin prepping the bar for a wild night. As I dipped a piece of pretzel into a tiny paper cup of mustard, it dawned on me that Alejandro was wearing the same clothes from breakfast.

“You didn’t go home, did you?”

Alejandro stuffed his face with a steak and cheese sub, mumbling as he did. None of us were prudes, but Alejandro had a knack for finding himself in a different bed every night. Working at a nightclub that specialized in superhero clientele meant he often had the freakiest hookup stories to tell.

“Powers or not?”

He shook his head as he swallowed. “Nope, just a good ol’ fashioned blow and go. No super strength, flying, or invisibility. But who knows what tonight—“

“I met somebody.” Since Dan and I broke up, most of my dating stories ended with a punchline. While Alejandro had a new fling every night, I couldn’t remember the last time I had gotten laid.

“Stats.” Why was I not surprised he wanted a visualization before I continued?

“Dark hair. Short, trimmed beard. About my height. His shoulders were broad and the suit he wore…” I whistled.

“Boxers or briefs?”

Alejandro and I had plenty of weird games we played to pass the time. Sitting in the park, boxers or briefs had become the most popular. Find a sexy man and then debate on what he wore underneath. With how many men he managed to get naked, I was playing out of my league.

“Bikini briefs. Contour pouch.” The thought of Sebastian in nothing but dress socks and underwear would be masturbation material for later.

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