“I’m in the Golden Book of Jules?” he chuckled. “Finally, I’ve completed my life goal.”
“Yeah, right beside not banging coworkers,” I said. “I had to glue your picture there as a reminder.”
He grinned. “In honor of my cold, dead heart, let’s watch Dracula.”
Elena
Marty’s personality did a one-eighty once the babysitter was out of town. He went from hiding in his office to wandering around the building without purpose, back to babbling and wasting everyone’s time.
I avoided his interruptions, for the most part, pretending to talk on the phone when he came near. I didn’t have time for him or his attitude, as he wasn’t even trying to hide his disdain for Jason anymore.
A lot could be said about Jason: he was rude, abrupt, and downright mean when he wanted to be, but Marty couldn’t hold a candle to him. Jason transformed the branch more in three and a half months than Marty had in over thirty years.
Marty wanted information from me, and I wouldn’t give it up. Lee had already warned me he was sniffing around for dirt.
My careful avoidance ended late one afternoon. “Elena, I’d like to talk to you for a moment!” he called from his office door, all ears in the office hearing him loud and clear. There was no way I could dodge him.
I sighed, unable to pick up the phone to play off like I was busy. I debated feigning illness but had too much crap to tie up by five. I’d have to grin and bear it and fight off anything thrown my way.
Lee grumbled in her cube. I hadn’t told her about Jason giving me a product line during the honcho meeting, and she didn’t know we were sexing up Ithaca, but she knew I hated to see Marty gunning for people for fun. The guy was ticking closer to retirement. One would think he’d enjoy having someone around that made his branch look good.
“Let’s hope this isn’t too painful,” I muttered, grabbing a notepad and pen.
Marty was waiting at his door, arm propping the flimsy wood open for me. “Ah, at long last, we get to talk!” he cooed. “You’ve been so busy all week!”
“As usual,” I replied, sitting before his desk for the umpteenth time.
He used to call me in daily to run over numbers, allegedly recapping, but taking my suggestions and observations to the next round of management meetings. He only stopped after I made him look like an ass by feeding him bad information.
“How are you doing, Elena?” he asked, flopping down in his chair with a thud.
“I’m fine,” I replied, glancing at the clock. Four-fifteen. “But very busy. How can I help you?”
“I’m worried about you,” he said, a frown pulling at his jowls. “It’s a hard time of the year for you, I know.”
I couldn’t tell if he was being sincere, but the reminder we were inching close to my one year failed wedding anniversary was not something I wanted to talk about. Especially with him. And definitely not at work.
“It’s been smooth sailing.”
“I’m glad to hear that, honey.”
I cringed. “I have a great support system,” I assured. “They’re all I need.”
It wasn’t a lie. I did. But I also had a handsome man to keep my mind off of things in the meantime.
He nodded, reaching out and fiddling with a pen. Marty could never dive into sticky territory without fidgeting.
“So the news from Bossman is that you’ll be handling gaskets, conduit adapters, and accessories,” he breathed, blanketing the room with his bitter coffee breath as he sighed. “Were you planning on telling me, or do I have to hear everything from the big guy now?” His voice was thick with irritation, his fingers seesawing the pen loudly against his desk.
“Excuse me?” I wasn’t taking a drop of attitude from him of all people.
He repeated himself word for word, not taking the hint.
“He mentioned me handling the lines in last week’s meeting. I figured there was paperwork to be taken care of, so I didn’t think much of bringing it up.”
He frowned. “He signed the paperwork and sent it off that day. He didn’t ask me.”
That was surprising. I figured he’d at least talk to Marty about it. It felt dirty to accept lines from a man I was sleeping with, though I knew I earned them fair and square.
“I didn’t know...” I trailed with a shrug.
It was the God’s honest truth. I was lying so much lately to everyone and even myself, but for once, I wasn’t in the slightest.
“I figured. He sidesteps everyone. I can’t wait until January.”
I turned my attention to my nails, not entertaining the conversation any longer. He hadn’t called me in to see how I was doing or to ask about the lines. He wanted a good old bitch session about Jason as I figured, and I wouldn’t be a part of it.
“Did he treat you with respect during the meeting?” he asked.
“Yes,” I replied.
“No issues? No shouting?” he pushed.
What the hell was he talking about?
“He’s never shouted at me,” I said. “He treated me fine. The meeting went well, and we reviewed my notes.”
He nodded, still banging that damn pen on his desk. “Monica mentioned you two were alone in his office, and you were flushed and upset,” he replied.
Not quite. My heart sunk, and I racked my brain for an excuse. “I was a little embarrassed from the meeting, honestly. It was daunting to be surrounded by all those managers. They were all very nice and respectful — just intimidating.”
“No issues with Bossman, though?” he pushed.
I hated that fucking nickname. “No, why?” I looked him square in the eye and dared him to go further. He was fishing, and I wasn’t biting.
He leaned toward me, resting his elbows on the desk. “You don’t have to be afraid to talk to me. I’m your manager–not him. You’re safe with me, honey.”
I sure as hell didn’t feel safe.
“Marty, if you’re accusing him of something, tell me!” I growled, leaning
