The Boss Project

CHAPTER 10

Evie

The following Monday, I had my first one-on-one counseling appointment at the office. I was excited and nervous, and both were showing—to me anyway. I’d been up since three AM making cookies, and was now arriving at the office before it even opened.

I’d decided to bring some of the goodies with me to keep out on a pretty tray next to the patient couch. Joan in HR had warned me that some of the traders had been vocal about not wanting to be forced to meet with a therapist, so I thought it might soften the blow if they could nibble on some cookies.

On my walk from the subway to the office, my hands were full with three containers of cookies, a gallon of milk, some disposable cups and paper goods, a half-dozen files I’d read at home last night, and my unnecessarily large purse. At the door to the building, I was attempting to juggle it all into one hand when an arm reached around me and opened the door.

“Thank you so…” I turned to finish the sentence and realized it was the boss. “Oh, you again.”

He offered his signature half smile-half smirk. “You sound so thrilled…”

Merrick wore black running gear again, except today his outfit had a short-sleeve shirt. He reached up to pluck one earbud from his ear, and the muscles of his brawny biceps bulged, catching my attention. Well, maybe a little thrilled. Luckily, he seemed oblivious to my ogle.

“What the hell is in all the bags?” He reached over and scooped everything from my right side into his arms.

“Thank you. I made some cookies, but then I realized I can’t serve cookies without milk. And I haven’t checked out the supplies in the break room yet, so I picked up some paper goods and cups and stuff, too.”

“You baked?”

I nodded.

“Uh-oh. Was it me?”

“What are you talking about?”

“You said you bake when you’re angry.”

I laughed. “No, I said I bake when I get into a frenzied mood. This was excited baking.”

Merrick peeked in the bag. “Looks like a shit ton of cookies in here.”

“And I left more than half at home.” I smiled. “I’m really nervous.”

We arrived at the elevator bank, and Merrick pushed the button. “What are you nervous about?”

“Oh, I don’t know… Starting therapy with a bunch of super-intelligent Ivy League millionaires who don’t think they need therapy.”

“You want me to let you in on a little secret for keeping them in their place?”

“Duh—is that even really a question? Yes.”

The elevator doors slid open, and Merrick held out his hand for me to enter first. It was just the two of us in the car, yet Merrick lowered his voice. “Okay, this is the secret. When you feel like they’re challenging you or questioning your authority, stand like Superman.”

“How exactly does Superman stand?”

“Stand tall and plant your hands on your hips with your feet apart. Maybe puff out your chest a little.”

“I think that might work better for you since you’re six two and actually are a little intimidating.”

Merrick tapped his pointer to his temple. “It’s nothing to do with size. It’s what’s in here. Trust me. You can pull it off.”

I wasn’t sure he was right. But I appreciated him trying. At least I thought I did… Unless… “Wait, you’re not telling me that to sabotage me and asserting a power pose is going to make them go ballistic, are you?”

Merrick grinned. “No, I’m not.”

I sighed. “Okay. Well, then thanks for the advice.”