8. The Secret Coworker #2
Rhys narrows his eyes. He doesn’t seem particularly offended at the ‘asshole’ bit (he’s probably used to being called an asshole every single day of his life).
It’s the curveball I’ve thrown him. Well, it’s not really a curveball.
Being likable at a job interview is pretty self-explanatory for most people.
He must be far on the spectrum of neurodivergence.
I make a mental note to ask my direct reports, who are all neurodivergent (yes, every single one of them.
It’s stated in their files) how to communicate with someone like Rhys.
Apparently, according to Paulina, my resident psych grad, I’m quite the opposite of neurodivergent.
I’m an empathetic sociopath (but in a good way).
“You have a fascinating way of thinking,” he says.
“How so?”
“Like you have an aversion to straight lines,” he says.
“Must be the liar in you.” He laces his fingers together.
“‘So what can I help you with?’ asks the asshole who’s job you stole.
” He points at my laptop. “Do you want an elementary lesson on how to conquer the ASSET’s home screen?
Oh, wait, you don’t even know what the ASSET is. ”
Irredeemable shithead. I dare anyone to say I didn’t work hard for my money.
I may not be working on the ASSET directly, but I put up with a lot in order to get my job done.
I take a deep breath and pray for patience.
The time for courtesy has passed. I cock my head to the side, playing into his assumption that I’m some corporate bimbo who doesn’t know shit from Shinola.
“As much as I would like a basic tutorial,” I say. “I don’t have time.”
Lounging back, Rhys laces his hands behind his head. “Then what do you need me for?”
“To help me carry out my directives,” I answer matter-of-factly.
Rhys takes this in stride. “You mean do your homework for you?”
“Yes,” I say without flinching.
He barks a laugh. “Why would I do that?”
“I’ll pay you.”
“I’m expensive.”
“I can afford it. I’m in a director position, after all.” I can’t help rubbing it in. I grab a pen from my bag and a napkin from the dispenser. “I’m going to make you an offer you can’t refuse.”
I jot down a number and slide it over to him.
Keeping his gaze on me, Rhys unfolds the napkin. His brow arches for a millisecond. “Add another zero at the end of this offer and I may consider it. Otherwise, I refuse on principle.”
“Can you finish by 2pm Friday?” I ask.
“If I’m willing?”
“Assuming you’re willing.”
He chews on his thumbnail. “I’ll have it done by Thursday and will make your slides for you. I can’t guarantee you’ll know what you’re talking about, but if I’m willing, I’ll be more than able.”
I pick up my pen, clicking it twice, begrudgingly adding another zero at the end of an already generous number. Goodbye quarterly bonus. I’ll make enough to pay my share of the rent, but this might be the last time I eat out for the next six months.
He whistles. “They are paying you well for doing nothing.”
“If you can knock out these directives in your sleep, as you claim,” I say, “then you’ve made a mint for three hours of work. I’d say you’re getting the better end of the deal.”
Rhys stares at my offer without a word. “Suppose I agree to catch your fish for you, what are you going to do after Friday? For the next directive? You can’t afford me every two weeks.”
“I’ll teach myself how to fish. I just need to not get fired in the meantime.” I extend my hand, waiting for him to shake it, but Rhys leaves me hanging.
“How do you know I won’t sabotage your work?” he asks, his question devoid of menace.
I sigh. “I don’t.”
He frowns. “But you’re asking for my help, anyway?”
I press my palms on the table, laying all my cards out before him. “If you screw me over, I’m fired. If I don’t do anything, I’m fired. I choose to take a blind leap of faith and put my trust in you, so please...” I push the napkin toward him. “Take the money and don’t be an asshole.”
Rhys drums his fingers on the table. I could practically hear the gears in his head turning. He has the upper hand, and he’s judging me hard. I’m at his mercy. My entire sham career is in his hands.
I would really like not to get fired this week. I’m doing everything possible to keep the job I can’t do. I take comfort in knowing that I didn’t lie down and accept the fact that I’d fucked up. If I go down, at least I tried to bribe my way out of it.
After what seemed like an eternity of careful deliberation, Rhys folds the napkin and slides it back to me.
“I’ll do it,” he says.
I nearly fall out of my chair. “You will?” I glance down at his exorbitant fee. “We’re agreed on this number? I can’t go any higher.”
“I’m good with the original offer,” he says.
“You want to be paid less?” Am I hearing him right? He’s giving me a discount on his services?
Rhys shrugs. “I don’t need the money.”
“We live in L.A. Everyone needs money.”
“Do you want my help or not?”
“I do!”
“Then stop trying to talk me out of it,” he says. “Besides, you’ll need to save up to afford me for the next two weeks.”
I blink. “You want a partnership?”
“Only if you’re happy with my services,” he says with no shortage of arrogance, “which I’m sure you will be. At some point, you might try learning to fish.”
This sounds reasonable... wonderful. It’s almost too good to be true. I frown. “What’s the catch?”
“What catch?”
“You’re suddenly offering to teach me the ASSET... out of the goodness of your heart?”
“I’m not doing it for free,” he says simply. “You’re paying me.”
“But you don’t want more money?” I narrow my eyes. “What do you want?”
“Let’s just focus on Friday,” he says, evading my question. Rhys holds out his hand, inviting me to shake it.
He’s got something up his sleeve. It’s obvious. He’s not even trying to hide it. Oh yeah. Without a doubt, he’s going to screw me over, and I’m paying him to do it.
But what choice do I have? I’ve lied myself into a corner, boasting about skills I didn’t have. Only Rumpelstiltskin can help me spin straw into gold.
“Do we have a deal?” he asks.
I seize his hand and squeeze it with all my might. “Deal.”
“Ouch,” he yanks his hand away, glaring at me as he massages his fingers.
I wasn’t expecting this meeting to go my way. Now that it has, I don’t know how to proceed. “What happens now?”
He taps on my laptop. “I’ll have the project back to you by Thursday, 3:35 pm.”
“Wow,” I blink, “that’s specific.”
“I’ll need your key and the password. Give me ten minutes to install this driver, then I won’t need your computer anymore. I’ll operate it remotely. You’re okay with that?”
This sounds like malicious hacker shit.
I’m fired if you do. Fired if you don’t.
“Okay... But if you try anything, I used to work at the best cybersecurity firm in the world. I’ll nail your ass.”
Rhys snorts. “Did you hire someone to do your homework there too?”
I have no response to that. “No funny business,” I say, handing over the flash drive key. For security reasons, I jot down Password03 on the same scribbled-on napkin as my offer. “Burn it after reading.”
He unfolds it and looks back up at me. “You’ve got to be kidding!”
“At least it’s not Password01.”
Rhys shakes his head. “I take it back. You’re a perfect hire for Rylan. You’re all a bunch of idiots.”
I should take offense to that. By now, I’m so used to his insults I don’t even flinch. I reach over and retrieve my steak and fork a piece into my mouth. It’s gone cold, but it’s still delicious. Rare. Just how I like it. “We may be idiots, but we’re filthy rich idiots.”