Page 27 of Right Man, Right Time
All our heads turn toward where Mr. Roberts is standing, cup of coffee in hand, a permanent crease in his brow. Known for wearing only dark gray suits, he combs his slightly thinning salt-and-pepper hair neatly to the side while his well-trimmed mustache twitches with his question. Some interns in the office have believed that his mustache is its own organism that just lives on Roberts’s face. I’m not a believer . . . at least that’s what I tell myself.
“Mr. Roberts,” I say, my body wavering between sitting, standing, and possibly curtseying. We never see him down here among the company peons. He’s a high and mighty kind of dude, not one with the people. “Uh, good morning.”
He sips his coffee, scanning all of us. “Good morning.” He glances at the name tag on my cubicle and says, “Ollie, is it?”
“Yes, that would be me.”
He nods. “You wrote that piece about romance books and how they apply to everyday life, didn’t you?”
Good God, he knows of my work. The curtsey is feeling more and more necessary.
“Guilty,” I reply while raising my hand.
“My wife liked it.” Oh, the wife you cheat on with the head of the journalism department? How lovely.
“Oh . . . well . . . thank you to your wife.” I dip my head in a slight bow, hating myself.
“What’s this about a hockey player?”
Smiling a devilish gleam, Candace says, “Our very own Ollie Owens is dating Silas Taters from the Agitators.”
Roberts’s eyes widen as he takes another sip of his coffee. “Are you, now?”
I swallow hard and nod, suddenly feeling the pressure of this lie. It was all fun and games when it was just to make Candace jealous, but I don’t particularly enjoy the look on Roberts’s face. He’s . . . beaming with excitement.
“Yes, Silas and I are dating,” I answer because what else can I say? Candace is watching my every move.
He nods again, and it’s the kind of nod that says he’s thinking, not just taking a general interest in my life. And that’s terrifying. You should never have your boss think about you . . . not in the conspiratorial way Roberts is.
Finally, he taps the top of my cubicle wall. “Make an appointment with my assistant. I’d like to speak to you today.”
And my nipples just shriveled up.
“Oh sure, I’ll, uh, get right on that,” I say, stumbling over my words.
He doesn’t offer me a reassuring response. Instead, he takes off down the hall, leaving me in a wake of “oh fuck.”
“Well, that should be a fun conversation,” Candace says while adjusting the waistband of her skirt.
“Why do you say that?” I try to hide the panic in my voice, but I do a poor job of it.
“Roberts has a vendetta against the owner of the Agitators. Despises the man. Did you not know that?” Candace smiles again. “Roberts is also a huge Agitators fan despite hating the owner. Looks like you should do some more research, then you wouldn’t be put in these situations. Have a great day.”
She’s vile.
When the know-it-all is out of earshot, I turn to Ross. “Oh my God, do you think I’m fucked?”
Ross folds his hands together, and I can sense some uneasiness in his shoulders. “What could Roberts possibly do? Not give you internship credit because you’re dating an Agitator? That’s not a thing.”
“Are you sure? It’s Alan Roberts we’re talking about. He once fired someone for wearing cologne that smelled too much like his late father.”
“For the record, it was not an appealing cologne. I think everyone was happy with that decision.”
“Ross, I’m being serious. Do you think this is going to mess with me? Should I call it off with Silas?”
“Can you?”
“We didn’t sign a contract or anything. Just kind of shook on it.”
