Double Standard
“Evan, honey?” my secretary Amber Hilliard asks, her voice bright and cheery. “Do you have that ad report for me yet?”
Through the open door to my office, I hear his quick reply. “Sure. Let me get it.”
There’s the faint squeal of castors as he rolls his chair away from his desk, and I glance around my monitor in time to see him back into view. Suddenly the comparable sales spreadsheet I’m working on is forgotten—nothing exists for me but the young man out in the main office area, now digging through a file cabinet.
Evan. Evan Hawthorne.
He’s almost ten years my junior, fresh out of grad school, and one of the best salesmen I’ve ever hired. But to be honest, it wasn’t his resume that convinced me to take him on. With his soulful gray-green eyes, kinked strawberry curls,
