Page 100 of Anyone But the Boss

A few minutes later, accident averted, Mary skips out of the bathroom and over to Thomas’s desk.

I follow her out, closing the private bathroom door behind me. ‘What are you doing?’

‘I drew Thomas another picture.’ Mary struggles with the brass closure on the leather attaché case. ‘I want to put it on his desk for him.’

‘Hold on, now.’ I remove her hands before she starts yanking and open the case myself. ‘Here.’ The bright blue horse drawing easy to spot. ‘We’ll leave this—’

‘He kept them!’ Mary smiles at me over Thomas’s open desk drawer.

‘Mary, you do not open other people’s—’

‘But look!’ She reaches her tiny hands into the drawer and comes up with a stack of papers. ‘He kept them.’

I can’t even finish reprimanding her. Because in her hands is the reassurance I was looking for when I agreed to walk Mary to Thomas’s office. A thick stack of Mary’s drawings, probably every one she’s managed to sneak in his briefcase in the mornings and then some are clasped in her hands.

‘We should hang them up for him.’ Mary looks around the office. ‘But where?’ Spinning on her boots, she knocks into the side of the desk, papers fluttering to the ground. ‘Ow!’

‘Oh, sweetie.’ I grab her hand she knocked. ‘Are you okay?’

She’s pouting, but not crying.

Turning her hand one way and then the other, I kiss each side. ‘All better.’

She makes sad eyes at the floor. ‘I dropped them.’

‘That’s okay.’ I brush the wisps of hair off her face. ‘What do we do when we make a mess?’

‘We clean it up.’ There is far less enthusiasm in her voice than a minute ago.

Showing her pity, I nudge her with my shoulder. ‘Why don’t you ask George if he has any tape? We can hang your pictures on the window. Thomas will be sure to see them when he gets back.’

My answer is the quick pounding of size two Doc Martens racing out the door.

Moving around the desk, I bend to collect drawings. Black and white rainbows, a purple rocket ship, various technicolored Mike Hunts…

My hand stills over a clipped stack of papers recognizing the header. It’s the contract I signed for Thomas just last week.

I move to put them back in the drawer, when another non-drawing catches my eye. A rush of heat flows under my skin, the sound and lights of the office dimming.

‘Got the tape!’ George walks in next to a skipping Mary. His excitement jarring me back to the moment. Catching sight of my expression, which is probably as shell-shocked as I feel, he stops. ‘Everything okay?’

Swallowing past my sudden dry mouth, I finish gathering the papers. Making one stack of drawings, one of the contract and copies of… whatever these are. Not looking at them, I feigned normalcy. ‘George, would you help Mary?’

Standing, I place the drawings on the desk and carry the other documents to the couch.

Probably sensing that I need a minute, George nods. ‘Sure.’

He distracts Mary by having her organize how she wants her pictures displayed while I sit down, staring at a document I never thought I’d have to look at again – my state-issued birth certificate. The ‘unknown’ mother and father glaring at me.

I take a deep breath, and shuffle it underneath the stanch, leaving the contract on top.

Given the fact that no marriage occurred on the eighteenth of February…

Mary giggles at something George said, but their voices fade as I continue to do what I promised Thomas – read the things I sign. With shaking hands, I turn each page after I’ve read it.

Mr Thomas Moore, henceforth known as the first party, will ensure the safety of one Miss Mary Roger, with the understanding that Miss Alice Truman, henceforth known as the second party, will therefore forfeit any employment status at Moore’s Clothier Inc.

Under the contract are pages of information about Kayla and me. Kayla’s last known jobs, her ex-boyfriend’s police report. A compilation of a private investigator’s report that my birth certificate must have been a part of.

---