“Sounds smart.” The door opens, and we’re greeted by a six-foot-four man in a dark gray suit.
“Mr. Timmons, what are you doing up here again?”
“I came to escort Petra up here,” he answers the grouchy boss.
“Following orders is so damn hard around here. Get lost, Mr. Timmons, and don’t come up here unless I request your services. Miss Novak, please follow me.” As mad as he is, I suppose the jerk has a point.
“Yes, sir.”
“See ya around, Petra. Maybe we’ll do lunch sometime.”
“Out of the question,” Mr. Shaw snarls under his breath. I wonder what the hell is going on, but I’m getting the impression that I won’t be around here long.
“This is your desk. I’m assuming that you have a basic background in typing and all of the office software, correct?”
“Yes, sir. I have…” I cut myself off because he unbuttons his suit jacket and slides his hand in the pocket of his slacks, dragging my attention there. Fuck. I look up and continue. “I have an associate degree from the community college in business administration, so I can manage just fine with daily office tasks. Although, I’m not sure if I’m qualified to handle more than just menial tasks.”
“Do you always speak your mind?”
“Um…I try to be honest.”
“Well, don’t go around pointing out that you’re not qualified to assist. Let me find out for myself. Now, take a seat and get to work on the list of tasks on your desk. Everything you need is on the note pad. I’ll be in my office on a call for the next two hours, which means I expect not to be interrupted about anything at all, unless this place is actually on fire. Understood?”
“Yes, Mr. Shaw.” He walks into his office, and I’m confused. Not about the job because I have no idea what waits for me at the desk, but it’s more what to make of him. He’s definitely grumpy as hell, but then was nice enough not to fire me on the spot for being unqualified, and yet he also muttered about me not having lunch with Elliot. Maybe I’m forced to work and eat at my desk or take late lunches. Whatever.
I walk around to my desk and set my bag down before undoing the three buttons of my peacoat. I love this one—I got it two years ago at a yard sale because it’s one of the few places I can find nice things for cheap. Unlike the suit that Mr. Shaw is wearing, my clothes don’t cost a fortune. I worked my butt off while attending college. Thankfully, it’s the one blessing of growing up poor. I went to school for nothing and I could have gone to a four-star institution, but I would have had to take out loans and I didn’t want to eat debt when I already knew what it was like to struggle to pay basic bills.
Mercifully, this job landed in my lap, and I’m going to do my best to keep it even if my boss isn’t a cinnamon roll. In fact, he’s the opposite of it, which I assume is something burnt and bitter, but I need to stop thinking about that chisel-jawed jerk and focus on what he left for me.
It’s a list of passwords to log in and a small to-do list. All of it seems straightforward, so I get to work. I’m midway through it when the phone rings. Unfortunately, no one told me how to answer it, but I do my best. “Mr. Shaw’s office, how may I help you?”
“Petra, this is Linda. I’m just seeing if everything is okay.”
“So far so good. I’ve gotten through some of his list here, but I’m not sure what else he’ll have left to do and he’s asked not to be disturbed because he’s on a call.”
“Good. I’m glad. Elliot said he was a little worried about you.”
“I can handle myself against the big old grumpy man. Tell Elliot I’m perfectly fine.” A grumble comes from beside me, and I don’t need to look to know it’s Mr. Shaw standing there. “I’ve got to go, Linda.” I hang up the phone and turn to him. “I’m sorry, Mr. Shaw. Do you need me for something?”
“Did you not hear your notifications going off?”
“Notifications?”
“Yes. These?” He reaches around me with his entire body engulfing my frame to wiggle my mouse, and there’s a chat box at the bottom of my computer screen that’s blinking with a ten in parentheses.
“Shit. I’m in trouble.”
“That you are. I’ll get the files myself. Now, next time, pay attention to the notifications and turn the volume up on it if you have to. Understood?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good.” He grabs something from the drawer beside my desk inches from my legs and then walks back into his office, grumbling something to himself as he closes the door.