His Secretary:Undone(12)

Adrian runs his finger along the rim of his glass. "Hate's a strong word."

"I like strong words." Maybe it's just the bourbon, but I'm pretty sure  he actually looks … dejected. I'd laugh if it wasn't so sad.

"Hey," I say, touching his shoulder. "Come on, man. You're a fucking  asshole, but I don't really … " I swallow hard. "I don't really hate you."

The moment I say it, I realize how true it is.

"Why the hell not?" He glances at me with a ghost of a smile. "You just  described the worst boss in the world. I would've murdered him by now."

"I've thought about it." My hand is still resting on his shoulder, but I don't move it. "But then, who would keep me humble?"         

     



 

He laughs a little, almost silently, before sliding off the stool and  pulling his wallet out of his pocket. "I've got a headache to sleep off.  This should be enough for the drinks, and a cab ride home."

I nod, trying to swallow down the sick feeling inside.

Impossibly, I actually feel bad for him.

***

I decide to take the subway and walk the rest of the way home. It's  still nice out, and I'd rather be alone with my thoughts. I leave a very  generous tip for the bartender, and tuck the rest of the money in my  pocket to give to Adrian later.

Why do I feel so guilty? I know I'm not wrong. He needed to hear  everything I said. But it seemed to cut him deep, like he didn't realize  - or at the very least, didn't want to.

Remembering that my pantry mostly consists of half a box of Triscuits, I  stop by the grocery store on my way home. I don't know what I want, but  I'm guessing I should chase the bourbon with something.

I'm pondering cheese selections, staring at the labels without really seeing them, when someone touches my arm.

"Meghan? Oh my God - it's been forever."

"Shelly?" I force a smile, turning to her. "Wow. Yeah, it's been a while, hasn't it?"

"I wondered were you'd been," she says. "Just busy at work?"

Nodding, I set down a block of Monterey Jack. "It just keeps getting  crazier. I've got absolutely no life. But hey, you know, at least I'm  not getting into trouble."

Ha.

"That's good, that's good." There's a certain exhaustion in her eyes, a hollowness, and I'm afraid to ask.

"How's the shelter?" I say, finally.

"Good, good." She doesn't sound convincing. "The animals are all doing  great. I just recently brought in a kitten someone found in a box in the  woods. If you can believe that. I don't know what possesses people."

My heart twists. "Jesus. At least Misty was in someone's yard."

Shelly nods. "She still got lucky, though. Being find." She smiles. "Finding you."

It's been almost a year, but I still don't want to talk about Misty.

"Is that everything?" I ask her. "You look like that's … not everything."

A shadow passes over her face. "It's bad, Meghan. Things have gotten  pretty messy since you left. I've been trying to keep things organized,  but … long story short, we've been served with an eviction notice. I don't  know what I'm going to do. The animals … "

She pauses, and I gape at her. "What? How?"

"We've been pushing back on some out-of-date fire code violation for  months now, because we don't have the money to fix it. It's not actually  dangerous, the city's just trying to bleed more money for inspections,  but I guess one of the volunteers lost some paperwork that should have  gone in the mail, and now suddenly we're being kicked out on our ass."  She shakes her head. "We just ran out the clock, that's all. Something  so stupidly simple, and now … I can't take any more of them in. I'm  skirting hoarding laws as it is. You know I take care of them, I'd never  neglect an animal, but all the city looks at is numbers. There's no  place for them to go. All the no-kill shelters are packed to the gills  already. There's just not enough space in this damn city."

Her eyes are shining with tears, and she swipes them away with the back  of her hand. "Anyway. I don't need to dump all my troubles on you. If we  manage to pull through this somehow, there'll always be a spot for  you." She manages a smile. "Everybody misses you."

"I miss them, too," I admit. "I miss all of it. I wish I had time to volunteer, but … "

"I understand." She touches my arm. "Please, don't feel like you need to  make excuses. I'm still astounded that anyone's willing to work for  free at all, let alone put in as many hours as you did. You've racked up  enough positive energy to carry you through the next couple lifetimes."

Our conversation stays with me as I go through the checkout line with a  random assortment of items, thinking of Shelly, thinking of all my  friends there. Thinking of the animals.

Thinking of Misty.

I can't let this happen. I won't.

If it's a question of money to find a new location, or just to fix up  the existing one … well, it so happens my boss is a billionaire. And he  seems to be feeling a bit guilty at the moment.         

     



 

But no, I can't. As much as I can't bear the thought of all those  animals ending up in a kill-shelter, or worse - I have the distinct  feeling that bringing this to Adrian as some kind of personal favor will  just end in twenty minutes of cat-lady jokes. No matter how bad he  feels, he won't be able to pass up that opportunity.

Of course, there is another way.

We get letters from charities all the time, and screening them is part  of my job. I could draft something up, make it look convincing, and be  sure to handle all the go-between stuff myself so Shelly won't realize  what I've done. I don't want to deal with a bunch of awkward thank-yous  and teary hugs; that's not really my scene. I just need to make sure the  animals are okay.

Yeah, that'll work. Adrian won't be suspicious. He doesn't even know  about Misty. When she got sick, and I had to miss work for an emergency  vet appointment, I claimed I had stomach flu. I just knew he wouldn't  understand. This, though, is easy. He just has to write a check. There's  no need to try and comprehend human emotions.

It's a good plan.





Chapter Six





ARCHIVED ITEMS: MORE THAN ONE MONTH OLD





To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]





I managed not to cry until I got home today.





Damn it. I really, really hate this guy. I hate how he gets under my  skin. It's like he always knows all the right buttons to push. I'm  sorry, I don't mean to dump on you. It's just that I'm getting to the  end of my rope, you know? I don't know how much longer I can do this.





From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]





I'm so sorry, Meg. I wish I knew something I could say to make it better.





I'm sure he didn't mean to make you cry. He'd probably feel terrible if  he knew. Picture this: your big, bad boss cracking open a bottle of  whiskey and drinking himself into a blackout because he saw how upset  you were and he hates being the cause of it, but he doesn't know how  else to act. I almost wrote a scene like that for Dirk, you know, but I  thought it seemed too soft.





Hey, you know what's not a bad book title: Billionaires Don't Cry. Nope, on second thought, that's terrible.





You know, you could quit. I know you feel like you can't, but if it's as  bad as you say, maybe you just need a fresh start. I'm sure he'd find  somebody new to torment. I mean, nothing would be as satisfying as  tormenting you, no doubt. But he'd do all right.





To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]





Heh. I don't know. I think about quitting every single day of my life,  but I can never seem to make it happen. I'll think about it some more.





How did you know he drinks whiskey?





From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]





lucky guess





To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]





You okay over there? Did your shift key fall off? ;)





From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]





One-handed typing. Not like that, you perv, I was just eating some Easy Mac.





Sometimes I feel like Dirk and Amanda should've hooked up differently,  you know? I'm sorry, I don't mean to get off track from your bad day,  but this has been running through my head for a while and I'd like to  bounce it off somebody if you feel like a distraction. I might use it in  a new series or something. I don't know. The slow burn was nice, but  I'd like something abrupt. It takes him forever to admit he has feelings  for her. What if he just told her one day?





I don't know. Just weird random thoughts. You're the only reader I've  met who has some kind of real-life scenario that actually mirrors what I  write about, so I'm curious. I guess what I'm asking is, how would you  feel if your boss just called you into his office and told you he was in  love with you?