"Oh, you're going to compensate me now? I'm not a whore."
Rick tugged at the knot on his tie, and I saw he was now truly uncomfortable. I also realised my voice was an octave too high and although a closed door separated us from the rest of the office, it would be best to calm down.
"Marley, please let me explain. I seriously have a lot to accomplish in a short time. You said yourself you were a displaced employee so you seemed like a perfect fit. We are not going to replace Bellman as his position was somewhat redundant. I expressed to Henley I needed an assistant who was willing to stay late and typically that means someone who has fewer family obligations. I think you spoke very passionately about this company during the drive, and I want someone who speaks their mind. I also reviewed your résumé with Henley and noticed you have a good deal experience with spreadsheets, tabulations, charts and pivot tables. I will require all of these items to assess the needs of this company. If you feel uncomfortable with my playfulness, I apologise, and I'll stop if you want me to. If you choose not to accept this assignment, I'll completely understand that as well. You are an employee here, and I am a contractor, which means that you are not my direct employee. You will report into Henley, although I suppose, I am your acting boss. However, I have no direct influence on your raises, promotions or reviews. I believe there were a few moments where we had a strong camaraderie in the car, and I'd like to catalyst that into a sound working relationship, but if you don't believe that's the case, I completely understand."
He folded his arms across his chest, waiting for my answer. I was still reeling from his lecture. I took a deep breath and regained my composure.
"Look, Rick, I appreciate the fact I still have my job. I like working here. I am a professional and an adult and more than capable of doing my job."
"Excellent, so we're in agreement then?" he asked, holding out his hand. I shook it warily. A boyish grin spread across his face. "I'm looking forward to working with you, Marley."
It occurred to me after he walked in his office that I never told him to stop flirting with me.
* * * *
Rick emailed me a task list of items to complete for him. It was actually the first time in weeks I had something purposeful to do. The mailroom man arrived with two large cardboard boxes for Rick and left them by the door. I lifted one and took it into his office, only to have Rick jump from his desk and take it out of my hands.
"Why didn't he bring it in here? You shouldn't be carrying that."
"You sound like a male chauvinist," I replied cynically.
He shook his head impatiently. "No, Marley, I'm a gentleman, there's a difference." His voice was full of quiet authority. He set the box on his desk and retrieved the other one before I could. I noticed the address label-he'd mailed them from New York. It was actually a smart idea not to lug them on an aeroplane. He struggled to open the cartons though, trying vainly to lift the packaging tape. I went to my desk and returned with my box opener. Rick had been smart enough to mail the boxes, but he sure was having a tough time getting to the contents.
I easily sliced through the packaging tape on the larger box. Rick looked up and smiled gratefully. "Look at that, you're assisting me already."
"What is all this stuff?"
"Manuals, books, office paraphernalia."
I started removing the books from the box. My stomach grumbled again and I silently cursed it. It was audible and Rick stared at me with an amused expression.
"Was that your stomach?"
"Yes, I skipped lunch," I replied.
"Why?" His gaze was penetrating, and I felt like I was in school again facing a teacher's reprimand.
"I was called into a meeting with the owner of the company telling me about my new assignment during my lunchtime."
He shook his head and I prepared for another lecture, which was the last thing I needed. "Why don't you get something to eat?" he suggested with concern.
"The cafeteria's closed, but I'll get something from the vending machine later."
"That machine's full of junk." He reached inside his jacket pocket and handed me a protein bar. "Eat this, it'll fill you up."
I stared at the simple, brown package. "A Zesty bar?"
"Consider it a peace offering. It has lots of protein and isn't full of calories like other nutrition bars."
"Thanks," I said, putting it down on the desk and taking out more books from the box.
"Marley, sit and eat now."
"Why?"
"Because I need you to focus and your grumbling is distracting me." He curled his lips in a light-hearted smile, but there was an underlying seriousness in his words too, as if he was genuinely worried about me. I noticed he kept staring at the red marks on my wrists. I lowered my sleeves so they wouldn't be visible.
I nibbled on the bar timidly, since I'd never found a protein bar that didn't taste like cardboard, but this one was delicious. It was sweet, but not too sweet. "This is very good."
Rick nodded, seemingly pleased by my acquiescence. Truthfully, I was starving and I might have eaten his right hand had he offered it. I chewed slowly, stealing sidelong glances as Rick put away the many items from the boxes. He took off his suit jacket, revealing the promise of a muscular frame underneath his crisp, white shirt. I shifted my gaze away from him. It seemed dangerous to stare straight on, kind of like looking at the sun.
"What's this?" Rick asked motioning to the corner. I laughed at Mr Bellman's jungle like trough of plants housed in a gaudy, brass planter box. They were overgrown and badly in need of transplanting. Mr Bellman had insisted the tacky foliage added ambience to his office, but unfortunately, he'd left that unwelcomed ambience behind for my enjoyment.
"It's a plant," I replied dryly, rolling my eyes.
"Is it real?"
"Yeah, it expels oxygen and everything."
Rick regarded the planter box with hands on his hips with unease. "I'm not very good at taking care of plants."
"Do you want me to water it?"
"I guess, unless you don't care if it dies."
"I can have facilities take it away," I offered.
"No, that's okay. We'll keep it. We could probably use the extra oxygen, right?" Was he implying we needed it because it was so intense when we were together? "It's good for the mind."
His statement punched a hole in my theory. "I'm sure it is." I hoped I didn't sound as disappointed as I felt. I was completely conflicted-I enjoyed his flirting, and I hated it too. I had no idea why. The second box contained personal items and mementos. He placed a silver clock and a business card holder prominently on his desk, then took out two photo frames. I smiled when he put out the smaller wooden frame. I could tell it was a picture of his parents. It instantly filled me with compassion for him. I didn't know how many guys his age would display a photo of their parents at work. He'd said they'd died ten years ago, and I imagined him to be close to my age, so he'd probably been in high school when they'd passed away. I wanted to ask him, but it seemed too probing a question. Plus, whenever you asked personal questions, you typically had to answer similar questions in return, and I wanted to avoid those.
I studied the couple in the photograph. Rick had features from both of them. The woman was kissing the man on the cheek, and they looked content and happy. I imagined they were very affectionate parents. The next photograph he put out had the complete opposite effect. It was larger, silver framed, highly decorative and contrasted greatly with the simple wooden frame next to it. This photo was of a beautiful, brunette woman, smiling brightly. It appeared to be a professional picture-like my senior pictures-but this woman was definitely not in high school. As gorgeous as she was, I instantly disliked her. Was it his sister? I didn't think so. There was only one explanation. He had a girlfriend. All of the sentiments I had been feeling towards him dissipated, and I ungraciously chomped on the Zesty bar.
Rick started talking about how he wanted me to set up the empty bookshelves in the office, going over which catalogues and portfolios he needed. I was paying attention, but my gaze kept drifting to the photos on his desk. He must have noticed, because he paused mid-sentence and stared at me sheepishly. "The small one is of my parents, and the larger one is the girl I'm dating."
"I didn't ask," I retorted.
"I know, but you seem interested, so I'm telling you."
"I'm not interested," I muttered, then I cleared my throat and repeated, so there was no confusion, "I'm not interested at all."
He nodded in understanding, grasping the full meaning of my simple statement.
"I can arrange the shelves tomorrow if you don't need anything else." It was five and I had to leave to meet Stevie at the bridal salon.