Page 21 of Business Casual
My phone rings in my pocket, and I dig it out, balancing my coffee in the crook of my elbow. I almost trip over a pumpkin vine and answer my phone with a bitten-off curse.
A beat of silence greets me. Then a dry, amused voice. “I guess the country is agreeing with you.”
I readjust my grip on my coffee and thank god for closed-top travel mugs. I dressed for the day, wearing my best flannel, and I’d prefer it if I didn’t walk around with a massive coffee stain. “Good morning, Selene.”
She mutters something under her breath that I don’t quite catch. My work has been flexible about allowing me to be remote for the month, but my assistant, Selene, can’t conceive why I would want to. I don’t think she’s ever willingly left New York in her life.
“How are the scarecrows, farmer boy?”
I squint into the distance. “I haven’t seen any yet.”
“I find that difficult to believe.”
“Well, believe it.” A gust of wind rolls its way through the trees, burrowing in through the collar of my shirt. I should have brought my jacket. “I am walking through a pumpkin patch though. If that fulfills whatever fantasy you have going on about my time down here.”
“If by fantasy you mean waking nightmare, then yes. That is exactly what I pictured you doing when you told me you’d be spending a month on the farm.” She sighs and I hear the clink of a glass in the background. The clink of a glass and…nothing else. None of the ambient sound I usually hear when she’s at her desk in the small alcove in front of my office, half hidden behind a wall of plants of her own making.
I frown.
“Where are you right now?”
“I’m at work,” she deadpans. “Doing my job.”
That’s debatable. “Selene. Are you in my office?”
“Of course I’m in your office. You’re not using it.” There’s a pauseand I hear a drawer open. “You have more sticky notes than any man your age should.”
“They help me stay organized,” I murmur. Notes and lists and strategically placed phone alarms are the things that keep my chaotic brain in line. “Whatever. Just don’t drink all of my coffee.”
“How about I eventually replace whatever I use.”
“That’s fine too.” Sometimes it feels like Selene is running the show and I’m just along for the ride. “Is there a reason for this call or is this a welfare check?”
She makes a sound that tells me she’s amused. “When have you ever known me to check in?”
“You called when I was sick last year and asked if I needed soup.”
“Because I was afraid you would die, and I’d get saddled with one of the useless fuckboys in the east wing.”
My lips twitch with a grin. Selene is right. Those guys are assholes. Most of the people at my firm are assholes.
Still. “We’ve talked about this. You can’t say ‘fuckboy’ at work.”
“I can when I’m in your office and the door is shut. Do you ever take naps in here? It’s really quiet. I can’t hear anything through the door.”
“No, I don’t take naps in my office.” Though sometimes I want to. Other times I want to throw my desk chair through the window and scream into the void. “Did you need something? Did I forget a meeting?”
I keep everything programmed down to the minute in my phone. If I don’t, I lose track of it. I thought I had kept this morning intentionally blank, but it’s possible something came up over the weekend while I was focused on Stella’s wedding.
And distracted by Nova.
“No, you didn’t forget a meeting.” I hear the shuffle of papers and the click of her heels across the floor of my office. A drawer opens and closes, and the whir of a machine starts up. I guess she found the Nespresso. “I wanted to give you a heads-up. You had about tenmessages from your dad on your office phone. And two from Mr. Billings.”
I grind out a curse between clenched teeth and rub my knuckles across my forehead. My dad almost tanked the company completely about three years ago with a boatload of shitty decision-making. Not only was he disregarding client interests and recklessly investing money on their behalf, he’d also been making inappropriate comments to a bunch of our female employees. Needless to say, the board decided to quickly and quietly relieve him of his position.
“How likely is it that Mr. Billings is calling about something my father told him?”
“Uh, safe to say that’s highly likely.”
