Boss Next Door

by Beverly Evans

My bark of laughter is sharp and brittle. “I don’t work here anymore,” I growl at him. “You can’t have me written up, you arrogant, condescending little shit.”

  His mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water, and his eyes practically bulge out of his head. Now that he has my blood up, I feel like I can’t stop my mouth from running away with me.

  “Maybe if you spent half as much time building up your team as you do kissing Braxton’s ass, you’d be a decent team lead,” I press. “But sucking up to your betters seems to be a bigger priority for you, I guess.”

  His eyes narrow, and his jaw clenches as he glares at me. “At least I earned my way here,” he hisses. “I worked hard to get to where I am, sweetheart. I didn’t have to shake my tits and ass or fuck the boss to get a job.”

  “That’s enough, goddammit!”

  Curtis and I both jump, startled at his voice. We’d both been so caught up in tearing each other up, we never noticed Braxton walk into the pod, but when I turn, I see him standing inside the doorway, a couple of file folders under his arm, and a look of dark anger in his face. His eyes are narrow, and he stares at the both of us menacingly.

  “Jesus Christ, you both sound like a couple of squabbling children,” he mutters, his voice low and tight.

  “I was just leaving,” I say.

  “One second,” he responds, his tone brooking no argument.

  The air in the pod is charged with a current of tension, and Braxton looks at Curtis with an expression of barely-controlled rage on his face.

  “I – I’m sorry you had to see that,” Curtis stammers. “Her insubordination is –”

  “Shut your mouth, Curtis,” he snaps.

  Braxton steps forward, and I have to suppress a small smile, knowing he heard everything Curtis just said to me. I’m big enough to admit that I enjoy a bit of schadenfreude now and again. Curtis shrinks back, his face going from angry to ashen with fear in a heartbeat.

  “Braxton, I don’t know what you heard, but –”

  “I said shut your mouth, Curtis.”

  They stare at one another for a long moment, and although Braxton looks like he wants to tear his head off, I can see him making a concerted effort to restrain himself. He actually takes a step back, takes a deep breath, and lets it out slowly. The color slowly drains from his face, and although his jaw is still clenched, he looks like he’s talked himself down off the ledge for the most part.

  “I heard enough to know that you’ve finally crossed the line,” Braxton says slowly, his voice tight. “And I’m done putting up with you and your petty bullshit.”

  “Braxton, you can’t –”

  “I own this company,” Braxton reminds him. “I can do whatever I like.”

  “Your father –”

  “Turned it all over to me, and to this point, I’ve honored his wishes and tried to keep continuity around here,” Braxton says simply. “That changes today. Right now. I will run this company the way I feel it should be run.”

  Curtis shakes his head, his face pale and drawn. “W – what are you saying?”

  “I’m saying you’re fired, Curtis,” he says with a tone of finality. “Get out of my building. Now. Right now.”

  My mouth falls open in disbelief. Firing Curtis is something I never thought Braxton would do. His respect for his father and all he built is absolute. I thought he would continue letting his father shape the future of the company. I’ve always thought the employees would have more respect for him if he put his own stamp on things. I think this may be a good first step toward that.

  “Braxton, you cannot –”

  His eyes narrow, and he takes another step toward Curtis, his voice somehow even lower than a whisper. “I’m not going to get angry with you, but I’m not going to tolerate this any longer. Your time here is over, and you need to leave.” He fixes his gaze so tight into Curtis’ eyes it’s like they could drill straight through him. “Now get out of my building before I call security and have you dragged out of here.”

  Curtis remains rooted to his spot for another moment, but when Braxton pulls out his cell phone and begins to dial, he finally snaps out of his stupor. He turns and heads toward his office, but Braxton’s voice stops him short.

  “I said get out of my building,” Braxton calls. “I’ll have your things boxed and sent to you.”

  Curtis looks like he’s about to argue but thinks better of it. He leaves the pod, his face etched with rage, muttering darkly to himself the whole way. I have no difficulty seeing Curtis going home and leaving Braxton a bad review on Linkedin or something rather than come at him straight on.

  When Curtis is gone, I’m left standing with Braxton. The air in the pod is suddenly charged with a very different sort of tension. Our eyes meet, and I feel that same electricity crackling between us that’s always existed. It’s every bit as strong right now as it’s ever been, and I try to shut it off before it muddles my thinking.

  “It’s been a little while,” Braxton starts. “I was wondering if you’d ever be back in.”

  “Just to collect my things,” I tell him.

  He nods as if that’s the answer he expected. “Listen, can we talk?”

  I sigh. “I don’t think I have anything to say, Braxton.”

  “Fine, then give me a minute to talk,” he says. “Please. I have something really important to tell you.”

  Almost everything inside of me is telling me to walk away now. To follow Curtis out the front door. But as loud as my mind screams, I can’t will my body to move no matter how hard I try to make it. Instead of heading for the doors, my feet betray me and head back into my office. I drop down into my chair, my heart and mind at war with each other. I know I should get up and go, but this is the first time he’s tried to talk to me in a couple of weeks, and I’m intrigued by what he might have to say. Or maybe it’s just a rationalization I’m creating in my head because, despite everything that’s happened, I miss him.

  Braxton leans against the wall just inside the door, a small smile curling his lips upward. I try to keep my face entirely neutral even though my heart is thundering, and my stomach is churning wildly.

  “So how have you been?” he finally starts.

  I nod, still bristling. “Good. I’m good.”

  “So you’re leaving.”

  “I think under the circumstances, it would probably be for the best.”

  He lets out a long breath. “It doesn’t have to be like that, Chloe,” he tells me.

  “I think it does.”

  “Look, you need the job,” he goes on. “And I think you add a tremendous amount of value to this company. You’re talented as hell, and I’d like to keep you on. I happen to have a team lead opening I need to fill.”

  I laugh softly and shake my head. “Are you trying to bribe me to stay? Is that why you fired Curtis –”

  “No, I fired Curtis because it’s something that’s been a long time coming,” he tells me. “And I’m willing to offer it to you because you’re talented.”

  “I don’t know, Braxton.”

  “Do you have any other opportunities? Anything in the works?”

  I look down at my desktop, not wanting to meet his eyes. He nods as if he understands. I don’t have any job opportunities in the pipeline at the moment. Truth is, I haven’t been looking. I’ve been spending all my time coping with the fallout after things with Braxton ended, trying to get my head on straight, and prepare for the baby.

  I’ve also been spending a lot of time connecting with my mom. It’s kind of incredible that after not having had a relationship with her for almost the entirety of my life that in just a few weeks, we’ve been able to form a strong, solid bond. I have no idea what’s changed with her, but she’s become the kind of mother I’ve always wanted. Mostly, anyway. I have no idea about the hows or whys, but I’m just riding with it. She’s really helped me get through this dark time in my life – something I never expected from her.

  “Just think about it,�
�� he says. “It’s a legit offer, and if you take it – assuming you still want nothing to do with me – I’ll do my best to stay out of your way and limit our contact as much as possible.”

  I open my mouth to respond but find I have nothing to say. I mean, I know where my head is at – ending things between us is for the best. But my heart is telling me something else entirely. Practicality is also having its say, telling me that I need this job. No scratch that, I want this job. It’s my dream job, and the feedback I got on the Lyman project only fueled that passion I have for it.

  “I have something else to say before you make a decision one way or the other,” he says earnestly. “About anything.”

  The way he delivers the last part of that line – about anything – combined with the look in his eyes tells me that he hasn’t quite given up hope on us just yet. It’s a realization that sets a fluttering in my heart that I’m having a hard time controlling.

  Braxton steps forward and sets the two folders he’s carrying down on the desk in front of me. I look down at them and then back up at him. His eyes soften and fill with the light of love that makes my heart melt every single time. When he looks at me like that, he has the power to make me do things I don’t intend to do. He has the ability to fog up my mind and spin me around so hard that I don’t know which way is up.

  “What are these?” I ask, doing my best to keep a clear head.

  “Before you open those, I just want to say something.”

  “Go ahead,” I reply, trying to remain neutral despite my curiosity being piqued.

  “Chloe, I love you. I’ve loved you since we were kids, and I love you more than anything,” he starts. “You make my life a better place, and you make me a better man. I know I fucked up, and I want nothing more than to put things right.”

  “I…” He gazes off in the distance like he’s grasping for the words. “I want you to know that I’m really sorry for what happened the other night. I know it was really fucked up of me and wrong, and I’m not even necessarily asking for your forgiveness. But I’m sorry for letting my temper get the best of me. That’s something that I know I need to work on about myself. Something I need to change if I’m ever going to…” he pauses. “If I’m ever going to deserve you.”

  My eyes sting with tears, and I feel my heart swelling with emotion. I try to hold onto the image of Braxton out of control, his eyes wild, and his face filled with rage as he beat those two men. It’s the polar opposite of the man I see standing before me right now – the warm, gentle, and compassionate man I fell in love with. The father of my child.

  “I want to spend my life with you, Chloe. I want to grow old with you,” he continues. “And I want us to raise our family together. I want to do all those things we talked about – and more. I love you, Chloe, and if there’s any way we can fix this and move past it – together – I’ll do whatever it takes.”

  Braxton falls silent and shifts awkwardly on his feet. He looks away from me for a moment. He clears his throat and straightens his shoulders before bringing his eyes back up to mine and motions to the two folders in front of me.

  “In that first folder is the paperwork to have our marriage annulled. I had my lawyer draw them up along with a package for alimony and child support,” he explains.

  “I don’t need alimony –”

  He waves me off. “In that second folder, you’ll find paperwork from my –” he pauses for a moment as if he’s having trouble getting the words out. “It’s paperwork from my therapist as well as my anger management group.”

  My eyebrows go up involuntarily as I look at him. “Therapist?” I gasp. “Anger management group?”

  He nods. “It’s something I should have done a long time ago,” he says, his voice suddenly soft. “It’s something I wish I’d done a long time ago. But I’ve been going to a few sessions a week for the past couple of weeks, and it’s been – good. It’s made me really take a hard look at how to improve myself as a person.”

  I flip open the folders and peruse the papers they contain, my head spinning. That he’s going through this – multiple therapy sessions as well as anger management counseling – all to set things right makes me want to cry. It fills my heart to the point I feel like it might burst.

  “Braxton, I – I don’t know what to say,” I say.

  “You don’t have to say anything right now. I’m doing this for me as much as for you, Chloe. I want to change that part of who I am,” he replies, looking pointedly at me. “You’ve shown me I need to change, or I risk losing the most important things in the world to me.”

  Despite my best efforts to keep things in check, I feel the warm, wet tears rolling down my cheeks. He gives me a small smile and a nod.

  “That’s it. That’s my pitch. I want to be with you, Chloe. I want us to raise our family together,” he says. “But I understand if you don’t want that. And if not, just sign those papers and done is done. There’s also no reason you can’t still work here. There’s no need for things to be weird. So – give it some thought and let me know as soon as you can. I’ll hold the team lead position open for you as long as I can.”

  And without another word, Braxton turns and walks out of the pod, leaving me there with the papers and all of the emotions swirling around inside of me. I close the folders and slip them into my bag, then walk out of the pod and make my way out of the building. I’m halfway across the parking lot and heading for my car when somebody calling my name draws my attention. I turn around and see Javi walking toward me, a wide smile plastered upon his face.

  “Hey, it’s been a while,” he beams. “Good to see you again.”

  “Yeah, nice to see you too,” I respond. “How have you been? What are you doing here?”

  He nods. “I’m doing good. Braxton’s taking me out to lunch,” he says. “But where have you been lately?”

  “I – I needed a little time away.”

  “Oh. Is everything okay? With you and Braxton, I mean.”

  I look out across the parking lot. It’s a near-blinding sea of dazzling light as the sun rains down on the windshields of the cars parked there. It’s a hot day, and I want to get out of the sun and into some air conditioning. But I can tell that Javi is looking for answers.

  “I mean, I’m not stupid. I know you guys haven’t like, been hanging out a lot,” Javi stammers. “Braxton’s been really bummed lately.”

  “He has?”

  Javi nods. “And honestly – you look sad, too.”

  As if I have no control over myself today, tears well in my eyes again, and I struggle to keep them from falling. Javi looks away, seeming to be embarrassed by my display of emotion. I sniff loudly and blink away the tears.

  “Yeah, it’s – complicated,” I finally manage to croak.

  “That sucks,” Javi says. “You’re both good for each other, and you make each other happy, Chloe. And I like having you around too. Braxton’s always a lot more fun. Can’t you work it out?”

  I give him a small smile. I sometimes think the world would be a better place if we could see things the way kids saw them. If only it was that easy. But kids don’t usually have to deal with things like unexpected pregnancies – and even more unexpected marriages. Kids don’t usually have to deal with all the complications that come with being a grown-up. Sometimes I envy them that.

  “Can I ask you something?” I begin.

  “Yeah, what is it?”

  “Whenever you’re with Braxton, does he ever – lose his temper?”

  Javi nods. “It happens sometimes. But only when people really deserve it. Like if they’re assholes or whatever. But he told me he’s going to anger management, and I’m really proud of him. He told me that he couldn’t be a good mentor for me unless he worked on improving himself, too.”

  I try to blink back the tears welling in my eyes before Javi sees them, but I’m too late.

  “Are you okay?” he asks.

  “Like I said, it’s complicated, Javi.”


  He kicks at something on the ground. “So uncomplicate it.”

  I reach out and squeeze his arm. “We’ll just have to wait and see what happens.”

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chloe

  My mom and I are having dinner at a small Mexican restaurant she frequents, and the stress of the day is slowly starting to fade away. She says the place has the best margaritas in all of Nevada – something I won’t be able to judge for myself for a while yet. But that hasn’t stopped her from imbibing. I inhale deeply, savoring the rich aroma of the food being prepared in the kitchen and allow the festive atmosphere wash over me.

  The restaurant itself is done in a Spanish Mission motif with wide, spacious booths, and Mariachi music playing on the overhead speakers. It’s not the sort of upscale, high-end place I’d usually associate with my mom – it’s actually a bit of a hole in the wall – but I can’t deny that the food’s amazing.

  “How long have you been coming here?” I ask.

  “Years and years,” she chuckles.

  I take a bite of my chicken mole, moaning in pleasure as the explosion of flavor hits my tongue. I wash it down with a sip of water and then wipe my mouth with my napkin. My mother and I are talking and laughing – I’m enjoying my time with her – but there are a lot of questions and thoughts swirling together in the back of my head like an approaching thunderstorm. I look at my mom and smile, reveling in the moment.

  “Can I ask you a question without you getting all weird about it?” I ask.

  She laughs. “How am I supposed to promise not to get weird when I have no idea what your question is?”

  “Okay fine,” I say. “I’m just curious – why this sudden change?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I went most of my life without any sort of relationship with you,” I begin. “And now, all of the sudden, you’re – well –”

  “Trying to actually be your mom?”

  “Don’t get me wrong, I’m beyond happy about it,” I say. “But – yeah.”

  A rueful smile touches her lips, and she remains silent for a moment, sipping her margarita. There’s a strange expression on her face. It almost looks – regretful. Sad.