I Don’t Care

Sophie

This isn’t a surprise to me. It hurts to hear the words, but I’m not shocked. Boyd knowing that floods me with embarrassment, though.

He stares at me for way longer than what’s comfortable, looking like he’s trying to redirect this conversation down a line of questioning that suits him. Something he’s very skilled at. “I don’t understand why you’d stay where the ceiling is capped where you’re at.”

Now I’m the one searching for the right words. It takes considerable effort to decide how much to divulge to a man I barely know. But after lying to him before, and having that backfire spectacularly, I owe him the truth. “If I stay, the women under me stand a chance. Without me at the top, it becomes a testosterone zone, and the women here won’t have a voice. Every man in the upper echelons of the payroll follows my father’s lead. None of them have the guts to stand up to him. So the women here are counting on me, whether they realize it or not. If I can stick it out and break the cycle, you’re darn right I will.”

“So you’ve known that he wasn’t going to leave you in charge, but you stay in hopes he’ll what? Change his mind someday? Like he’ll have an epiphany and his distorted view of gender roles will leap ahead several decades.” Boyd seats himself in the chair opposite my desk, resting his elbows on his knees, though nothing about his posture is relaxed.

To match his level, I drop into my desk chair, placing my palms on each armrest and leaning back. “I hope that one day, he’ll see that my work speaks for itself, yes. And that there’s no one better suited to run McNamara Enterprises than a McNamara.”

“What if I go talk to him? I’m not his employee, so he can’t fire me. What if I’m the person to stand up to him and tell him he’s being a misogynistic schmuck, and try to make him see what a mistake he’s making?”

I blink at Boyd, who looks handsome in his casual suit, and try to rationalize why he’s so invested in my future. There’s no logical reason. “I don’t need you to save me from him. You’re not exactly high on his list of valued opinions. Though I’m pretty sure that list is one person long.”

“You need someone to come save you from you.” He leans back in his chair and closes his eyes for a brief pause. “I’m sorry, but this isn’t how a company is supposed to operate. I don’t know if you just don’t realize it because you’ve spent your life under his thumb, but this place is toxic. I don’t care what the revenue reports say. You deserve better than this.”

His assessment of the situation makes me a little angry, because he’s making broad assumptions. “It’s not about revenue. It’s about not giving up on something I care about. I know it’s majorly flawed, and I want to have the chance to fix it. So no matter what you say to me, I’m not walking away. Did you think you could just come in here, tell me something I already know, and I’d ride out on your white horse so you could shout to everyone what a gallant man you are?”

He releases a tortured sigh, but doesn’t reply.

Since I ran into him in the hallway, I’ve been trying to figure out his motivation. It has occurred to me that he’s trying to convince me to quit, so he’ll have an easier time sliding into my job—though Henry made it pretty clear that was no longer on the table. It has also occurred to me that he’s telling the truth and Henry did inform him of his plans for the future of this company. Nevertheless, I can’t unravel this mystery myself.

“Why do you even care?”

“I don’t know.” He shrugs. “But I do. It didn’t take me more than five minutes to figure out that you deserve better than this. Celeste said…” His eyes light with alarm.

“I’m sorry. Celeste said what?” I stand, placing my palms on my desk and leaning forward. The second I register that’s one of my father’s intimidation tactics, I straighten.

Boyd utters a PG curse word before standing to meet my gaze. “She’s worried about you. She told me what he said to you… after I left on Friday.”

I sink into my chair again. This time, when I lean back, it’s not a casual pose intended to evoke a powerful persona. Now it’s a mixture of upset, rage, and embarrassment. The rage is squashed almost immediately when I consider Celeste and don’t question her intentions. She’s hardly the type to sabotage my career or personal life. If she spoke with Boyd, I’m sure it’s because she thought that was the best thing to do. That doesn’t ease the embarrassment, though.

I can’t make eye contact with him now.

“She’s worried about you.”

“I know. But I can handle it.” Normally, I wouldn’t give details of something a friend told me in confidence, but Celeste has never tried to hide her complicated family dynamic. Still looking down, I continue, “She’s a little sensitive to domineering men. Her stepson is like Henry. Maybe even worse. He hasn’t spoken to her for more than a decade because she’s ‘just a woman.’ He showed up at his father’s funeral, but didn’t even acknowledge Celeste. So each time I tell her about a situation at work, I think she puts herself in my shoes.” I really should stop confiding in her so she doesn’t worry, but she’s so good at reading me, she knows as soon as something is wrong.

“From where I’m sitting, her concern is justified.”

Finally, I look up. “Like I said, I can handle it.”

My intercom buzzes before I can continue, and Andy informs me I have an important call waiting.

“I appreciate your concern, but right now, I’m going to focus on the work I need to get done.”

Boyd adjusts his suit jacket. “Take care of yourself, Sophie.” With that, he turns and leaves, quietly opening and closing the door.

Twenty seconds pass and Andy still hasn’t transferred this important call through, so I pick up the receiver to question him about it. Then my door flies open and he pops through like Cosmo Kramer.

“What did he say?” he asks, closing the door behind him in a rush.

I glance up at him as he stops in front of my desk and I notice his scheming smile. “There’s no phone call, is there?”

“No. I figured if you didn’t want an out, you’d tell me to take a message.” He adjusts the chair Boyd just vacated and drops into it. “So, what did you guys talk about?”

Andy is privy to certain aspects of my relationship with my father. Considering he’s not just my employee, but a friend. Some things I’m not willing to share, though. I don’t want my role or people’s perception of me compromised. I have to maintain some professional dignity, and explaining that my father views me as nothing more than a harlot will not do me any favours.

“He was asking me about the company culture and what kind of work he’d be doing.” I close my eyes and exhale a long, silent breath. Now I’m lying to Andy too.

“And what did you tell him?”

This guy is way too invested in the seven-minute conversation Boyd and I had. Any other time someone has left my office, he’s never asked anything more than pertinent details he’d need to record.

“Why are you so interested? He asked me out, so I don’t think he’ll be—”

“Woah. Back up. He asked you out? Today?”

I level him with a stare that asks, are you serious right now? “You know I’m your boss, right?”

“Pssh. Insignificant detail. So he came here to ask you out? I knew it.” Andy performs an obnoxious golf clap with his hands near his face.

This is an awkward conversation to have at work, but I should at least be honest in this. I proceed to tell him about our strange encounter, me turning him down—though I leave out the part about the fake boyfriend and the Chad disaster—running into him again at the gala, and our failed meeting at the coffee shop.

“I knew I should have rearranged my schedule. Girl, you withheld the tea. I may never forgive you.” The right side of his mouth lifts a fraction of an inch. “Unless you make it up to me.”

“And how should I do that?” I shouldn’t have asked. “Keep signing your paycheques? Maintain your employment?”

“Those are bonuses, but no. You need to ask him on a date.”

I love Andy, but sometimes, he lives in a fantasy world.

“That’s not happening. Maybe you missed the part about me shooting him down or the fact my dad is trying to hire him?”

“Ooh, a workplace romance. This is getting even better.” Andy leans forward, placing his hands on the arms of the chair as if he’s going to get up, but pauses instead. “So, yes. Ask him on a date.”

“Why are you so invested in this?”

He settles back into the chair, holding eye contact. “Because my skill-set includes answering phone calls and reading people. And that man is as good as it gets.”

I shouldn’t ask. I really shouldn’t ask. “How do you know that?” My people-reading skills leave a lot to be desired.

“Ah, sweet Sophie. A magician never reveals their tricks. Just ask him out.”

“But—”

“I’ve got to get back to work.” He jumps up and speed walks to the door. “Boss is a real ball-buster.” With a backward wave, he exits my office.

I lean back in my chair and blow out a long breath. My assistant is very good at his job, but good grief, he’s weird. So why don’t I hate the thought of what he’s asking?