Rude Boss

“I was in employee records and saw you’d recently submitted a change of address. I figured you’d gotten a place and since nobody moves on a weekday, I thought I’d come by here today just to see if you were here, and here you are. By the way, your parents are extremely nice people. I think your father likes me.”

With narrowed eyes, I say, “They don’t. Nobody likes you.”

The gleam in his eyes and the bright smile he flashes tell me he’s not the least bit offended.

I say, “You need to go.”

“Why do I need to go, Quintessa?”

“Because I’m asking you to. You’re my boss. We’re not—” I don’t want to say friends. That word should never be used anywhere near a tyrant, but I don’t know how else to put it.

“We’re not what?” he asks.

“Friends,” I blurt out.

“Well, we had lunch the other day that you paid for. I think that makes us something.”

“Something like what?”

“Friendly, but I think I like the idea of us being friends. Plus, your parents may be under the impression that we might be dating.”

I cover my face with my hands. “Oh, no. What have you done?”

“I didn’t do anything. I was just talking and they pretty much formed their own conclusions. Now, listen. I helped your father get your bed up and now I’m taking you to a late lunch.”

“You touched my bed?”

“I did. Now, let’s go. I’m taking you to lunch.”

“You’re not taking me anywhere.”

My neighbors walk by looking scared already and probably worried about who’s moving next door to them. I haven’t spent one night here and Mr. DePaul has got me bent out of shape while simultaneously ruining my reputation.

He smiles and responds, “Gee, and I thought I was stubborn...”

I pace the area in front of my door. I say, “You’re not supposed to be here, Mr. DePaul.”

“It’s Essex.”

“Ugh…just…leave.”

“Now you sound like me. Demanding.”

“I’m serious, Mr. DePaul.”

“I’m serious, too. I owe you a favor and I will be taking you to lunch. I already informed your parents of this. They’re about to leave.”

As soon as he says those words, Mom and Dad come walking out.

Mom says, “I see you got your hands full,” then waggles her brows at me and tries to wink but she’s blinking all crazy like she has a lash caught in her eye. “We’ll talk later, Quin.”

“Okay. Bye, Ma.”

I kiss her on the cheek, hug my father and then he shakes Mr. DePaul’s hand.

“It was a pleasure to meet you both,” Mr. DePaul tells them like he has manners when he and I both know he doesn’t.

“You as well, Essex,” Dad responds. He’s already on a first-name basis with my nemesis. Mr. DePaul may have them fooled, but I know the real man behind the expensive clothes and terribly handsome face.