We Three Kings

Chapter 3-2

I slip up beside Stacy and say in my most nonchalant voice, “Did the guys get out all right this morning?”

“They sure did. No delays and none expected. They should land on the coast by eleven a.m. our time and be on site for just past noon.”

The suspicion I hear in her voice is my own fantasy; she has no idea that both Mark and Devin are clueless about our new hire. I’ve been hearing the same distrust in the tone of everyone I’ve spoken to, and seen it shining from the gazes of everyone who looks at me. It’s ridiculous to feel like this—no one knows, no one cares, but for me. I am the one who is suspicious of me; I am the one who is disappointed in me. For the first time since the three of us have gone into business together, and I mean that in a far deeper aspect than just the company I stand in, I have done something without them. Really, it was my right. I do own a controlling share of the company. Morally, however, I am horrified at myself. I’ve long since given up the role of alpha. We’re partners. We share responsibility, we don’t delegate.

And yet, apparently, I have chosen to shove these ideals aside for this…this Jimmy thing…whatever it is.

“And the new guy?”

“He’s here too. He’s waiting in the lunchroom for Steph—”

“No, uh, no,” I shake my head. “Not Stephan. Or Kris either. Actually, he’s not going to even go to purchasing. I have something else. I’m…” I let my speech trail off when I recognize Stacy’s blank stare for what it is. Masked amusement. “What?”

She shrugs. “Nothing. But do me a favor, will you? Keep the s****l harassment lawsuits to a minimum. I actually like this job.”

I pretend to be horrified. “I’m just trying something out. I’ve read his resume. I know people. And the three of us have needed an assistant for a while. You know that. You can’t do everything.” I’m trying not to notice that I’m justifying a business decision to my receptionist. “I just figured that this would be the ideal time to try things out. So, I don’t have to disappoint anyone. This way I can see if I can handle having someone under my feet—”

“Right,” she smirks. “I’m sure underfoot is exactly where you’re thinking of having him.”

I snarl and steal one of her mints. “Why do I think you spend more time thinking about my s*x life than I do?”

“You’re a wise man?”

I laugh, I shake my head, and just when I figure she’s done, Stacy looks up and eyes me. “Stay smart, okay?”

The scent of coffee grows stronger the closer I get to the back of the lower level. It’s not nearly as showy as the upper level, but the cleaners keep it nice and the staff is semi-respectful of the carpeting. It’s a lot of gray: floors, walls, even the supports for the ceiling tiles. And I have this odd thought that I’ve been surrounding myself with that particular color for a long time now—the interior of my car, my house, most of my suits and accessories. Up until now, I’ve blamed it on serenity, a dislike for flash, and environmental harmonization. Now I’m not so sure. Now I’m suddenly thinking about a pair of eyes that I thought I’d forgotten and wondering if the memory hadn’t always been there.

That, right there, is a thought that makes me want to stop walking and smash my skull into the corner of one of the filing cabinets. It’s just so f*****g stupid and unlikely that I think maybe, just maybe, seeing Jimmy again has done something severely nasty to my mental health.

I’m furious and all but smothering under my own irrational thoughts by the time I step into the lunchroom and glare at him. Deer illuminated by headlights, rabbits frozen in front of wolves, supposedly clever coyotes underneath falling anvils; none of them could come close to equaling the startled expression that Jimmy gives my curt, “Come with me.”