Rude Boss

I take a sip of water just to keep my eyes off him. A nagging sensation to strike up a conversation comes over me. That’s so not like me, but it’s quiet in here and I need a distraction. “So, I take it you don’t work on weekends?”

“I’m working now, aren’t I?”

“I wasn’t talking about this. I mean actual work—DePaul & Company work.”

“No. I don’t work on weekends or discuss work.”

“Okay, then what do you do on the weekends when you’re not rolling around the city looking for single women who need help painting?”

He grins. “You’re funny. You know that?”

“And you’re good at dodging questions. Now, let’s hear it.”

“Yesterday, when we were out to lunch, I answered this question, but since you weren’t listening, I’ll answer it again. I don’t do much of anything on the weekends. Today, I went to visit my parents and that didn’t go over too well. Yesterday, after we parted ways, I stayed home for the rest of the day.”

“You will never make me believe you stay home on a Saturday night.”

“It’s true. I’m a homebody.”

“You’re a liar. That’s what you are.”

He laughs. “Why do I have to be a liar?” he asks and bites his bottom lip.

And now I’m looking at them. My eyes are being sucked in like he’s put a spell on me.

“Uh…you just are. There’s no way you spend your weekends at home. You have all the money in the world.”

“Your point?”

“You should be doing stuff that broke people like myself always say they’re going to do if they ever come across a lil’ bit of money.”

“Like what?” He rolls the brush into the pan again to soak it with just the right amount of paint.

“To go somewhere exotic. Travel the world. Go to these places that I see on my Facebook feed where the waters are so clear, you can see the fish swimming while standing on the pier. That’s what your life should be.”

“I travel, but I usually do it alone, so it’s not as fulfilling as you’d think it would be.”

That’s odd. Why would a man of his caliber need to travel alone anywhere? I’m sure there’s always some gold digger looking for a temporary good time. And he traveled alone? Very odd.

He asks, “What else would you do if you were rich?”

“For starters, I’d buy myself some furniture so my boss doesn’t have to do it.”

He grins and says, “I didn’t have to do it. I wanted to.”

“To make up for how mean you were to me on the day of my interview? If that’s the case, I’m going to need a whole lot more than furniture.”

“Ouch.”

He dips the brush again.

I grin and then say, “At this rate, you’ll be finished within the next hour.”

“That’s the plan. I’m not going to have you up in here painting by yourself. As a matter of fact, if you’re planning on painting anything else, let me know and I’ll send someone over to handle it for you.”

“I’m not painting anything else. I only wanted this accent wall, so I’m good.”

I quietly observe him work a moment more. His biceps are pulling double duty with hardly any effort. He’s so tall, he doesn’t need a ladder to reach up high, close to the ceiling. His lengthy body and long legs are enough all on their own.