“Of course.” I had no reason to feel ashamed I enjoyed coconut and caramel. Those were extremely manly flavors.
And Monday afternoon meant I would have to deal with April’s friend who was “iffy about mornings” without the benefit of my early morning pick-me-up unless I grabbed one on the way in. My own kitchen at home was stocked with an assortment of possibilities that I rarely took time to actually make there, other than my restorative Friday night meal. For the most part, I only used my place to shower and sleep.
“I actually paid for rushed shipping.”
“Why, does Ryan enjoy coffee too?” There was no keeping the edge of sarcasm out of my voice.
“Hardly. Tea is much more Ryan’s speed. Coffee is a dangerous stimulant and can lead to hallucinations.”
“Such as fantasizing about murdering someone when you don’t have any?”
“You have five pods left,” April said crisply. “Ration.”
She hung up before I could reply.
In the old days before vacation, April never hung up without making sure I had everything I needed. Now she seemed dismissive. Perhaps this was her way of weaning me off the teat of capable assistantship before she took her leave.
It was hard to imagine Ryan, with his inconsistent start times and love of tea, could measure up.
Maybe I was being unfairly judgmental. Usually, water seeking its own level was a factor in friendships, but I had no idea if this was a former ex of April’s or someone she merely had an acquaintance with. Many people today called everyone their friend, from the mailman to the barista who made their latte. I was far more selective.
My old school buddy, Bishop, counted as a close friend. I also had numerous acquaintances. I wasn’t looking to add to the roster.
I grabbed my coffee from the brewer and disposed of the pod before sitting at my desk. I slipped on my glasses then typed a missive to April.
Memo: Ryan Moon
Ms. Finley,
Upon further reflection, while your effort to provide someone in your stead while you are vacationing is commendable, I need more information before I blindly accept someone into my employ, even temporarily. Does this individual have a CV? A work history? Applicable skills? References? I will need to see these materials before I hire anyone.
Yours,
Preston Michael Shaw, Esquire
Addressing her as Ms. Finley was a bit much, as was signing my full name and using Esquire. I was annoyed on multiple levels and needed an outlet.
I didn’t believe in gyms—communal sweating had never been my kink—so I’d be going for a nice long run tonight to get out my frustrations. God knows I didn’t have any other healthy outlets, other than playing Mario Kart on my ancient Super Nintendo system.
Vintage. Not ancient. I needed to learn the lingo so I didn’t sound like someone caught in the past.
I drank a mouthful of hot coffee and flicked through screens until I came to my notes about one of my biggest cases, Terrance vs. Yorn, a multi-million dollar divorce with drama worthy of Judge Judy. I did not do drama. I also didn’t relish reviewing notes that amounted to little more than a record of personal attacks rather than anything based on legal precedent.
I had pulled up my email program to dash off another email, this time to Donald Terrance, when said program dinged.
I frowned. I had turned off all notifications. How had one gotten through?
The frown grew as the most recent email in my box seemed to loom larger than all of the others. The sender? Ryan Moon.
Mental note: tell Ms. Finley not to share my email address with outsiders before asking.
Narrowing my eyes, I clicked it open.
To whom it may concern:
I have attached my resume. References are at the bottom. The first one is the person who got me this gig.
Sincerely,