“Listen up,” Mr. Sturm boomed, using a forefinger to push back his glasses that were about to fall off the bridge of his nose. I tried not to stare too long, especially after the way he overreacted a few moments ago. He didn’t even let me explain myself. “I want these manuscripts,” he lifted a tall bundle of files from a brown cardboard box by his feet onto the table. “To be read, analyzed, proofread and the grammatical errors taken note of. Can you do that?”
I gulped, picking up a file and weighing it in my hands. He watched me intently. “But Sir, it’ll take ages to finish this. I thought we had different departments specifically designed to handle proofreading and editing?”
“These are my work, which in turn becomes yours. I still have a couple more manuscripts over there,” he pointed at a shelf at the end. “Those are mine to work on. These are yours.”
I bit my bottom lip, feeling a protest bubbling in my throat. The files were humongous and a single one contained at least thirty pages. When on earth was I supposed to get finished with all of them, and still take care of Finn?
This wasn’t how I’d envisioned my first day at work to go.
“But Sir – ”
He held up a hand. “If you can’t do it then you might as well take your stuff and get the fuck out of my company.”
Shit.
I stepped forward and began piling up the files on my left arm. The weight made me stagger a little and I stepped on his spotless designer shoes. He cursed and stamped his left foot hard on the ground, startling me and causing the files I was holding to fall.
“You clumsy little – ”
“I’m so sorry,” I shouted over the din in my ears and the tears falling down my cheeks as I hastily bent down and began stacking up the files on the floor. He shook his leg, vibrating in silent anger. “Just get the hell out of my office already. You need to work more on yourself. So slow and unprofessional.” He moved around me to sit on his leather chair.
I couldn’t handle it anymore. The air was choking the longer I stayed in this room. In his presence. I searched my mind, wondering what hefty crime I committed to making him hate me this much overnight. I knew I didn’t want to have anything more to do with him and shouldn’t care, but he was being so unbearable and unreasonable. Did he honestly think I’d come clean about it if he made life hard for me? I was a hard fighter that could take on anything he threw at me. What hurt me the most was that I’d spent my last penny on new clothes and shoes, trying to compete with the ladies he flirted with after five years of abandonment.
I sucked.
On my way out the door, he called out. “Don’t forget to bring me my 10 AM coffee. And don’t we have an appointment with Diane Warren scheduled five minutes from now?”
A brief glimpse of the schedule I’d downloaded and written down on my notepad confirmed that he was right. We had an hour-long appointment with the esteemed author of Blue Boys. I dashed to the coffee maker on the third floor and hastily prepared his usual cappuccino. Black, and without sugar or cream. I turned, bumping into a hard chest.
Oh, God.
The coffee spilled over the tip of the mug, splattering on a shiny navel blue suit jacket. The entire proofreading department gasped as strong, large hands wrapped around my arms, steadying me before I fell back on my butt. I looked up, eyes focusing on ruby-colored ones that held a familiar glint. I glanced down, horrified at the mess I’d created on his suit jacket, and instantly went down on my knees.
I clasped my hands together. “It was never my intention. I’m so sorry, Sir.”
I noticed the frightened looks on everyone’s faces, as though I’d done the unforgivable. The handsome stranger drew me up, dusting the wet coffee stains on his body off. He offered me a kind smile, one that got me even more confused and had everyone gagging. “It’s okay. It was an honest mistake.”
I sighed in relief as he brushed past me, drinking in his flowery-scented cologne. I’d recognize that smell any day, yet I couldn’t place where I’d seen or smelt it before.
“You’re really lucky,” A blonde lady donning a beautiful navy-blue suit said from her table from across the room. “That’s one of Mr. Sturm’s best friends, Ryan Jenkins. He’s normally not this coolheaded about stuff like this.”
“Maybe it’s because she’s the new girl, Ivy,” her dark desk mate chipped in, sucking an orange. Her looks and accent looked African and she was sporting a high, beautiful afro. “As time goes on, you’ll get to see his bad side. Take it from me, it’s not pretty. And you could get fired if you’re not careful.”
I appreciated her advice and willed myself to be cautious from now on. I couldn’t afford to lose this job and go scouting for a new one. The deadline for my rent as well as Finn’s birthday was fast approaching. I needed money more than anything.
I made a fresh cappuccino and took it back up. Mr. Ryan was seated with his legs crossed, discussing their last Saturday hangout. I dropped the coffee in front of him, turning to leave.
“Wait,” he called. I retrieved my hand from the doorknob, swiveling back on my heels, my cheeks burning in embarrassment.
“Sir?”
“Did you add sugar to this?”
“No. You don’t take sugar.”
“Who told you that?” he flared. “What about cream?”
Oh goodness. Why was he doing this to me?
I snuck a glance at Mr. Ryan who was looking between us now with a puzzled expression. “No sir.”
He pushed the mug away. “Take this with you. I’m not drinking anymore.”
“But, Sir ”
“Are you deaf?” his eyes darkened. “I won’t repeat myself, Elaine.”
I took the mug back downstairs, downcast. The afro girl just finished pouring herself some fresh coffee into a disposable cup and was adding some sugar. I turned the coffee in the mug which was now cold into the sink.
“What happened? He doesn’t like it?” she threw in a cube, stirring with a little teaspoon. I shrugged as I added some cream and sugar into the new coffee I’d poured.
“He wants it with cream and sugar.”
His eyes bugged out of their sockets. She slapped a hand on her lips to stifle her gasp. “Are you for real? Mr. Sturm loves his coffee black and bland.”
“It’s what his taste buds crave. Who am I to object?” I was already irritated by the mere mention of his name. He was an arsehole. I could only hope that Finn didn’t grow up to be like him, and I decided to keep the truth away from him at all costs. I’d find a better man (hopefully someone handsome like Mr. Ryan) who would be a great model figure for my son.
My cellphone vibrated in my pockets. “Excuse me.”
It was Mr. Sturm. No doubt he wanted to yell at me for delaying his coffee.
“Won’t you pick it up?” Afro girl queried loudly. I sucked in a breath and swiped my thumb over the screen.
“Where is my coffee?”
“I’m on my way, Mr. Sturm. Give me three ”
“You know what, forget about that,” I bunched my fists. Did he wake up on the wrong side of the fucking bed? What the fuck was going through his head?
“I don’t want coffee anymore. Instead, try to revise Darla’s manuscript. She called me to shift the meeting to noon. I trust that you can get everything sorted by then.”
I bit my lip, remembering how huge the pages were. “I can try, Sir.”
“Miss Elaine, I don’t need you to try. I need the manuscript revised and ready by then.”
Fuck you.
“Alright, Sir.” I hung up.
“What was that about?”
I rolled my eyes, letting out a frustrated sigh. “What the hell is wrong with him? He’s like, the worst arsehole to ever walk this Earth.”
Afro girl laughed her spotless white dentition a beautiful contrast to her glittering melanin. She had to have African roots. “Welcome to the club. His assistants don’t stand the test of time. He changes them before you even get to say the word ‘Jack’. Even the resilient ones end up giving up due to his hectic demands.”
Since he didn’t want the coffee anymore, I might as well take it. Sipping from it curtly, I leaned against the desk on which the sugar bowl, cream, and snacks were placed, listening to Afro girl retell Mr. Sturm’s experience with his numerous assistants. “It got to a point where he fired them for the littlest mistakes. I wonder why the papers are yet to write an article about his unbearable work ethics instead of his sexcapades.”
I couldn’t afford to sit back and chat a little longer. It was already a quarter past ten, and I had to get down to Darla’s script. But I was enjoying Afro girl’s company. She had this welcoming aura around her and was sweet as well. “What sexcapades?”
“Didn’t you hear about how he got a woman pregnant after promising to marry her?”
Uneasiness crept up my chest and lodged in my heart. “Really?”
Oh, shit.
She nodded. “It was all over the papers last week. You read the Times newspaper, right?”
I didn’t really pay much attention to elite gossip whenever I was opportune to peruse the papers and Cora wasn’t a fan of reading, so there was no way I was to know about this earlier. “No. Tell me, then. What happened?”
“It turns out that the lady wasn’t set up to lie against him by a rival company. The child she claims is his, looks nothing like Mr. Sturm at all. He was vindicated.”
“Close call.” I straightened. “Anyways, thanks for the chat. I have to get started on the manuscript right now.”
“I understand. It was nice talking to you. I’m Vivienne by the way.” She shook my hand warmly.
“Elaine. Sorry for asking but, are you African by any chance.”
She chuckled and gave me that look that suggested that she’d been asked that question a lot. “Yeah. My mother is African. A Nigerian precisely.”
“That’s so cool. You’re very beautiful. I’ll give anything to have your dark skin. Exceptional.”
“Thank you so much for your kind words. You’re lovely as well. I look forward to chatting with you some time again.”
“We could go out for drinks one of these days, “I whipped out my phone and unlocked it so she could input her number. “After dismissal, of course. I don’t want a certain someone going all Hulk and firing us before we even get to say the word ‘Jack’ ”
She laughed, passing the phone back after she was done. “Talk to you later, sugar.”