Page 33 of The Butler

“Does he see it that way?”

“Of course he does.” I glanced at the salon door about twenty feet away. “I have to run. I’ll try to have a beer with you and Starr tonight,” I said.

Jake appeared crestfallen but smiled, nonetheless. I touched his arm and hurried off to meet Mr. Majors. I suddenly turned around. “I’ll try. I promise,” I shouted over the ocean and wind noise. Jake stood there looking far too handsome than a man had a right to. He was truly a male vision of perfection and I should probably end my fuck-fest with the boss and set my eyes on a serious candidate but that was not where my heart was.

Mr. Majors stood and waited for me to cross the room. “Mr. Dalton,” he stated. “Thank you for carving out some time for me this afternoon. I know how busy you are with Mr. Carrington.”

He had no clue howbusyI’d just been with Mr. Carrington. I sat across from him and waited for him to be seated, wringing my hands in my lap like I was prone to do when anxious. “Of course, sir.”

He sat and opened a file while I waited for him to complete the scan his eyes were making of the contents. “Stanford, huh? And summa cum laude?” he asked.

I sat stoic and didn’t respond. What could I have said?“Yeah, I’m fucking smart.”

“What is a Stanford educated computer scientist with an advanced study in cybercrime doing hiding out as a butler?” he asked.

“I was unsure of how to best use my degree after graduation,” I stated, not really hiding the truth. It was semi-true that I had been unsure after my professor/lover extinguished my fire. He’d actually extinguished two fires but I wasn’t about to get into that with this uptight man.

He reached for his file and retrieved a sheet of paper from it. “Do you know Professor Keil from Stanford?” he inquired.

What the fuck was this about? Shivers ran down my spine where they found a clenched asshole. “Yes, sir. Professor Keil was one of my instructors and I was his teacher’s assistant for three years,” I answered. “Is there a problem, sir?”

“Quite the contrary, Deklyn. May I call you Deklyn,” he asked.

I nodded and wrung my hands harder to calm the fear rising in my chest.

“He faxed me a response to a request that I sent to the university in regards to your academic experiences.”

“I don’t remember authorizing anyone to look into my curriculum vitae, Mr. Majors.” I was nervous but I also wasn’t afraid to stand my ground when I smelled a rat. “But let’s push that issue aside for the moment. What did Professor Keil have to say regarding your unauthorized inquiry?”

“You are direct, Mr. Dalton,” he stated. “I’m surprised Mr. Carrington likes you so much considering that fact.”

I’d had enough of the interrogation and if he wanted to make me feel uncomfortable with his line of questioning, I was having nothing to do with it. I didn’t appreciate people snooping into my private life behind my back. “What did the letter say?” I insisted again.

“You can read it for yourself if you’d like,” he said, pushing the letter across the wide coffee table.

“I’ll trust you to paraphrase, sir.”

He leaned back and crossed his arms, studying me and measuring my nerves. I supposed that he hadn’t expected a lowly servant to have a backbone. “I think we’ve gotten off to a bad start, Mr. Dalton and I apologize.”

“What is this about?” I asked, finding my hands relaxed suddenly. This man didn’t intimidate me anymore and after my show of skills around a computer earlier, I knew I didn’t need this job, so fuck him.

“Mr. Carrington wants to offer you a position in his corporation,” he began. “It is my job to check your qualifications before making the offer.”

“And may I ask who authorized the two of you to do a background check on me?” I asked.

I watched as he squirmed uncomfortably in his seat. “How about we just say that the large endowment that Mr. Carrington supports at your former university gives him a bit of an edge when he looks for talent,” he began, leaning forward and grabbing the letter. His eyes moved across the page for a moment. “And it appears that your former professor feels that you are the brightest pupil he has ever seen come through the vaunted Stanford Computer Sciences program.”

“Is that so?”

“According to Professor Keil your thesis on cybercrime and the advancement of AI in computer viruses will be studied for years to come,” he acknowledged. “That is impressive, Mr. Dalton and you are exactly the type of person we want working for us.”

“I am working for you,” I reminded him.

“True, but in a vastly different capacity than you should be.”

“How about I finish this job and then you can make me an offer to start out with you at the corporate level, sir. I’ll give your offer of employment serious consideration.” I stood and waited to be dismissed.

“Our offer is not just a computer job. We want you to be our new Chief of Security for technology,” he explained. “Three-fifty a year with ten percent raises annually.”

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