3. Connor
Even though I’m normally an early riser, I seriously contemplate throwing my phone into the wall when the alarm goes off. 7:00 comes much sooner than I expected, but it’s bad enough I already changed plans once by bailing on my workout, I can’t deviate again by being late to work.
I get dressed in record time and find a warm cup of coffee waiting for me in the kitchen, thanks to my CoffeeMan 25—the beautiful machine connected to my phone that knows when I’ve shut off my alarm and automatically starts brewing a cup for me. If Chris and Lisa knew how satisfying it is, maybe they wouldn’t be so pushy about me finding a girlfriend.
I swing by the donut shop on my way to the office and grab Lisa a thank you pastry, knowing she’ll be at work even though I told her to sleep in.
“If that’s a chocolate glazed in that bag, I might ask you to marry me,” she claps when I stroll in.
“Don’t make it weird,” I hold up the bag triumphantly and set it on her desk. “For your driving services, thank you again.”
She looks up at me and there’s a slight crease of worry in her expression.
“Everything okay?” I ask.
“Yeah.” She shakes it off. “Obviously, I’m just overwhelmed with donut lust, don’t mind me.”
“Understood. What’s on the docket today?”
“Not much, since it’s the day before Thanksgiving. Atticus wants to see you in his office right away, so I pushed your 9:30 to 11:00 and your 11:30 to 2:00. I prepped the file for the Kensington Sons acquisition, it’s on your desk. And I ordered you lunch from Stella’s, it’ll be here at 1:00.”
“Wow, you’ve been busy this morning. Why does Atticus want to see me, did he say?”
As if on cue, Atticus calls across the cubicles to me. “Price! Just the man I wanted to see. Come on back.”
I glance at Lisa, who’s busying herself with the donut bag.
“Yes, sir,” I hold up my coffee in acknowledgement. “Let me set my stuff down and I’ll be right in.” He nods but doesn’t move from his space, waiting to make sure I follow his directions with expedience.
This can’t be good. Atticus Windsor is not a man you want to piss off. He’s tall, imposing, and his voice sounds like he might have missed his calling as a drill sergeant. Always impeccably dressed, never a graying hair out of place, he keeps close tabs on everyone who works here, and he likes to remind me he was closing accounts when I was still in diapers. In a lot of ways, he reminds me of my dad, which is probably why I get along with him so well.
I walk slowly to my office, trying to think of what he could possibly have to criticize. I’ve worked almost all weekends and holidays, I’ve gotten straight Exceeds Expectations on every review. If there’s a delicate client who needs some finesse, I’m the one who gets called in to smooth things over. And why is Lisa looking so guilty? What does she know?
I quickly hang up my coat on the back of my door, set my laptop bag down in the middle of my desk, and shoot a quick look in Lisa’s direction as I walk to meet Atticus. She looks concerned again, but the second she sees me looking at her, she spins around in her chair to face her computer.
Oh god,I think. Is Lisa quitting? Was last night too much for her? Or does she think I’ll fire her for what she said? Does she feel like she’s working too many hours because I work so many?
“I can see the wheels turning already, Price,” Atticus notes as we both take a seat in his office.
“Well, these meetings don’t happen too often,” I explain. “Just wondering to what I owe the pleasure?”
He smiles from behind his oversized cherry wood desk and leans back, lacing his fingers together over his chest. “I just can’t get enough of that damn handsome mug you’ve got.” He’s trying to lighten the mood. I know the tricks, I use them all the time. As predicted, his smile fades and he gets right into it. “I had an interesting conversation with Ms. Wong this morning.”
I school my expression to neutral at the mention of Lisa’s name. “What exactly did she disclose?” I ask, trying to get a feel for the minefield I’m stepping into.
“That you scared the hell out of her. I’m gonna level with you, that woman scares the hell out of me sometimes. It’s more than a little disconcerting to see her so shaken up.”
I sigh. “I totally understand. And the last thing I want to do is make her feel like she has to be a caretaker, she does more than enough. Is she worried that she’ll have to stay late in case I’m here alone? I can take my work home if that’s easier. It’s not ideal, but I have the laptop, so I can make it work.”
“She’s worried about you, Price. And now I am as well. So I asked Ms. Larsen in HR to send me your logged vacation days.” He holds up a sheet of paper with several columns, all filled with zeroes. “It appears you haven’t taken any time off in over three years.”
Has it seriously been three years? What did I even do the last time I took vacation time?
He doesn’t wait for me to defend myself. “You know how important you are here and you know how much I value your dedication and your work ethic. But you’re no good to me if you burn out and that’s where you’re headed right now. Now, Ms. Larsen has informed me I’m not technically allowed to insist you see your doctor for follow up or to otherwise stick my nose into your medical business. But I am allowed to ‘firmly encourage’ you to use a chunk of your accrued vacation time.”
I take a second to process what he’s saying and to think of my next question. “How firm is this encouragement?”
His answer is a silent smirk.
I resist the urge to loosen my tie. I never buckle under pressure.
Time to readjust.
“How much time?”
“Six weeks,” he says in a tone that is definitely more firm than encouraging.
All of my tactical skills fly out the window before I can even help myself. “Six weeks?” I practically shout.
He nods calmly. “You’re entitled to ten paid vacation days a year, not including sick leave and holidays. The company allows you to bank unused days for up to three years, so really it’s perfect timing. You can relax throughout the rest of the holidays when, let’s be honest, it’s not all that busy anyway, and come back after the new year refreshed and ready to go.”
I always find work to do during the holidays, there has to be a way they’ll miss me if I’m gone for six weeks. Six weeks! I’m still trying to comprehend it.
“What about Lisa?” I ask desperately.
“Ms. Wong is also going to enjoy some deserved time off. She’s going to work with Sullivan on your current files and then take the last two weeks of December. Apparently she’s already decided she’s going to Cancun.”
The uncomfortable prospect of a month and a half without my job starts to choke me.
“Connor.” Atticus never uses my first name, so he isn’t fucking around. “You know the key to any good negotiation is balance. The give and the take. This is no different. If you don’t take this time to regroup and focus on your health, then there’s not a place for you here.”
That might be one of the most sobering things anyone’s ever said to me.
His face melts into a smile as he points to the corner of his desk, where a picture of his family sits prominently. “My wife wants to go to the Maldives next year, do you think for one second that I’m going to pass that up so I can be at the office? Or that I’m going to miss my son’s college graduation this spring? Hell, my daughter is probably going to end up marrying her worthless boyfriend, I can’t even imagine what that’s going to cost me in time and money. But what are you gonna do? Even though watching my little girl marry that stupid twerp is going to be painful, I’ll be there. And I won’t be thinking about work.”
And that right there is where Atticus and my dad diverge. Don’t get me wrong, I love my dad. He’s taught me a lot, especially about business. But passing over work for family was never exactly his forte.
I hate losing, but I’m man enough to know when to throw the white flag gracefully. “Two weeks. The same two that Lisa’s out.”
Okay, maybe I’m grasping at straws in a not so graceful way now.
“Six weeks overlapping the same two that Ms. Wong is out,” he counters.
“Three weeks with one week being the week after she gets back, so I don’t have to listen to the horrible things she did in Cancun.”
“Six weeks, your last week will still be a week after she gets back, so you’ll be spared.”
Dammit. “Four weeks with?—”
“Six weeks or Ms. Wong gets transferred permanently to Sullivan and we spend the time you’re away finding you a new assistant.”
Double dammit.
“Take the deal, Price.”
I don’t say a word, I just stand and shake his hand. As I open the door to his office, he adds, “You will come back a new man. I promise you that.”
“Looking forward to it,” I lie.
I barely make it two steps into my own office when Lisa is hot on my heels. “Boss, I’m so sorry, I had to do it. You understand, right? Please tell me I’m not fired, I know I was already on thin ice when I called you a loser last night, but I was just so worried I didn’t know what else to do.”
I’m not sure she’s ever going to stop to take a breath, so when she actually does, I seize the opportunity. “Did you say you called me a loser?”
Her eyebrows shoot up and she immediately looks toward the ceiling. “Did I…?”
“I guess in a way you did. Thank you for doing it more diplomatically last night, at least.”
She stares at me expectantly.
“Of course I’m not going to fire you. And I’m sorry you were worried, I appreciate everything you’ve done. Just…don’t let Sullivan screw up everything while I”m gone and don’t get too comfortable working for his lazy ass. When I’m back in January, it’s business as usual.”
“What are you even going to do with yourself for six weeks? Ooo! You should get a tattoo!”
I thumb through the files on my desk in an effort to enjoy the little work time I have left. “What am I going to do with the other five weeks, six days, and 22 hours?”
“If you got a full back piece, it would take multiple sittings. You couldn’t get the whole thing over the six weeks, but it would be a great start. Just don’t do angel wings, that’s way overdone. Or dragons. Please don’t get a dragon.”
“I’m not getting a giant dragon tattoo, I promise.”
“I mean, I guess you could. I’d never know.”
I continue rifling through the Kensington Sons folder. “Obviously, if I”m getting a tattoo, it’ll have to complement the butterfly I have on my lower back.”
It gets so quiet that I actually look up from the file to make sure she’s still in the room.
“You made a joke!” she exclaims.
“Am I not allowed to make a joke?”
“Allowed? I didn’t think you were capable!”
“What are you talking about? I make jokes all the time.”
“No,” she shakes her head. “You’re sarcastic, but you don’t make jokes. There’s a difference. Oh my god, okay, so this is a big deal, you’re already starting to relax. I’m so happy for you!”
“Well, I’m glad I can add ‘relaxed occasional comedian’ to the ‘loser’ moniker you shouldered me with.”
“See, now that’s sarcasm, it’s not the same.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Where are we at with Kensington Sons?”
“That’s your 2:00, one of the sons is ready to speak with you.”
“The older or the younger?”
“The older. Tom.”
“Okay, and you said I have an 11:00? Is that the Masterson account?”
“No, Masterson’s already with Sullivan.”
“Then what’s the 11:00?”
“Are you sure you’re not going to fire me?”
I narrow my eyes at her. “Yeeeees…”
“Good, you’ll want to leave at 10:30 to make it to your doctor by 11:00. Stella’s will still be here at 1:00, though, so you’ll have time to eat before the phone call with Tom Kensington. Byeee!” She shuts the door behind her, leaving me alone to process how the last 12 hours have been the most surreal of my life.