Falling for the Boss

by Jean Oram

  “Right. Arlene Dickinson, the entrepreneur millionaire from Dragons’ Den, said that in her book Persuasion.”

  Connor refrained from rolling his eyes. Maya was so green it almost hurt even to sit here and listen to her.

  She nodded as though coming to a conclusion. “Why didn’t you finish your business degree?”

  “Cutting to the chase now, are you?”

  “Why not? Time is money.”

  “Not at the moment, it isn’t.”

  Her feet had begun twitching and he chuckled. Chitchat was killing her. “Do you know how to sit still?”

  “No. Do you know how to talk about things that aren’t business?”

  “Of course.”

  “Then start a topic.”

  “I dropped out of business school because I made more during my third-year project than most graduates did in a year. Wouldn’t you quit and follow the trail of money?”

  “You fail.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “That was a topic about business.”

  “I was answering your question.”

  “New topic.”

  “Like what?”

  “I don’t know. Show me how to connect.”

  “You are persistent. Unrelenting.” He’d enjoy it if he was in Toronto and not trying to chill out. In fact, he’d likely have asked her out for a drink by now. But this was Muskoka and his vacation. “So, Maya, tell me why you think I can help you get ahead in the business world.”

  “Fail again. Business related.”

  “Maya. For real.”

  “If not you, then who?”

  “You tire me, woman.”

  She sat back, looking sad and rejected. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t lead someone with such passion and eagerness into a world that might give her so much it would consume her. It wasn’t the same world he’d stepped into seven-and-a-half years ago, making millions as easily as sweeping up sawdust in a sawmill.

  “I’m heading into Toronto at 9:00 a.m. tomorrow. Nothing personal, but I don’t know that I’ll be back.”

  4

  Connor sat in the exam room, twisting his hands. The lab had drawn blood that morning and Dr. Tiang had checked his vitals, and was ready to chat about his conclusions. And despite the fact that it might mean more time off, Connor appreciated how thorough he was being. He’d been livid when the doctor had first pulled him off work, but his perspective had slowly begun to change while he’d been sitting on the dock with Maya yesterday. Seeing her so alive, healthy and vibrant, just lapping up life as though it was a big ol’ bowl of milk, he’d realized how far he’d crumbled over the past six months.

  And maybe Dr. Tiang could help him find a way to get a life. Get Maya.

  Connor didn’t want to be sent back to Muskoka, because it would mean he’d failed at being a real man and handling all that the city was throwing at him. But he wanted to go back if it meant he might begin to feel human again.

  He tried not to remind himself of Stella’s ultimatum—comply with the doctor’s orders or she was quitting. He almost laughed at how over-the-top she’d sounded, claiming she didn’t want to be the one to find him keeled over at his desk.

  But his office couldn’t run without him. Who would finesse the latest merger if he wasn’t there? Surely not Bill and James.

  Clenching his hands, Connor forced himself to breathe. Either the merger would happen or it wouldn’t. Two weeks wouldn’t settle his fate if he really was the king. And if the merger didn’t go through, well, then it wasn’t as though his stock was going to suffer due to one deal. Heck, he might even decide to pull out if they didn’t get their ducks in a row and meet his requirements.

  Dr. Tiang rolled over on a stool, stopping in front of him. Connor was in a suit, ready to go back to work, but he felt like a kid begging the coach to put him into the game again, yet afraid that if he did, he’d let the man down.

  The doctor let out a large sigh, his focus not leaving whatever was scrawled on his clipboard.

  “Mr. MacKenzie, do you have staff who can take over your business’s essential duties for the next…say…two weeks?”

  “I’m not running into doors. I’m fine to go back in.”

  “According to today’s blood work, your elevated heart rate and memory test, you are not. You need rest. Two weeks is a bare minimum—just to see what you can accomplish.”

  “I can accomplish plenty.”

  “I’m guessing due to your present state that you need something more like months.”

  “Months?” Connor shoved his hands through his hair and swore under his breath. He needed a haircut. He’d ask Stella to book one when he got back into the office. Nuts. Stella. She was going to quit if he went against the doctor’s orders. Was this an order? Although she wasn’t here, which meant she didn’t have to know what the doctor did or did not say.

  “I’d like to do a stress test.”

  “Why?”

  “To give you a better time frame for when everything is going to hit the fan if you go back to your previous lifestyle.”

  “Everything as in…?”

  “Heart attack. Stroke.”

  Connor crossed his arms. He could convince this guy otherwise. That was his job. Sales pitch time. “I have good cholesterol and find my job rewarding. Positive stress is present in my position.”

  “Not enough of it, according to what your body is telling me. I’d like to say it is whispering, but it’s more of an outright scream. I don’t think it can yell any louder without having a major collapse. Shall we test your hearing as well?”

  Connor glared at the man. “There’s more to health than blood work, and my hearing is fine.”

  “Personal problems?”

  “I have no personal problems.” That was a nice side effect of not having a personal life. “I’m fine. This is how I work.”

  “Tell me something, Connor.” The doctor paused. “Do you have trouble concentrating? Remembering things?”

  “I’m a busy guy. I have an assistant and a secretary for a reason. Both good women.”

  “Have you been experiencing irregular heart rhythms? Increased heart rate? Loss of motor control?” He raised an eyebrow. The doctor knew the answer; that was part of why Stella had brought him in here last week.

  “I’m fine now. You were right. A few days of rest did wonders.” Connor stood, straightening his lapels.

  “Have you lost interest in things that used to matter to you? Possibly your job or your social life? Hobbies?”

  Who had time for that kind of stuff? Didn’t Dr. Tiang read the financial news? You didn’t get in there by hosting poker night for the guys.

  “Grown away from family or friends? Mood swings?”

  “Take a hike,” he said lightly.

  “This isn’t a joke, Mr. MacKenzie.”

  “My apologies. Really. I do appreciate your concern and know you’re trying to do your job. Warning heard. Now, I need to get back to work, but I promise I’ll cut down on my hours.”

  “Impatience?”

  “Ha. Ha.” Connor reached for the doorknob.

  “Inability to perform in bed?”

  His jaw tightened. “I don’t see how that is any of your business.”

  Dr. Tiang stood, placing a light hand on his arm. “Connor, if you don’t take a break and find balance, you will have a heart attack. That will mean more time off, either because it is fatal or because you will lose essential heart function—meaning for the rest of your life you will feel tired all the time. Or worse, you’ll have a stroke. We’re looking at the possibility of losing the use of one side of your body. Rehab. Do you have time for that?”

  “I don’t have time for this.”

  “You’re only human, Mr. MacKenzie. You need to create a personal life that is separate from your business life. You, believe it or not, can afford to save your own life, Connor.”

  Maya shifted from foot to foot in front of the grimy glass doors to one of Toronto’s s
mall tax firms. It didn’t seem as though Connor was coming back to Muskoka―not just because last night’s flying dream had been a panicky one where she’d lost control and begun to spin backward, but because of the way he’d left with barely a goodbye, his mind obviously already back in his skyscraper, making fistfuls of money. So she figured she may as well go to the job interview, even though the work wasn’t exactly what she wanted. Plus Hailey had needed a ride to the airport.

  Maya drew herself up, vowing to show Connor MacKenzie that she didn’t need to wait around for him to notice her skills or kick-start her career. She could do it herself. She needed to do it herself. Adjusting her dress, she took one last breath and pushed through the doors, announcing herself at the large reception desk.

  As the woman directed her to the elevators that would take her to the third floor, she added, “You might want to hold your breath.”

  Maya gripped the tall desk. “Why?”

  “You’ll see.”

  Maya slowly made her way to the elevators. Hold her breath?

  Did that mean tons of other grads had already had an interview with this piddly little company, and she needed luck on her side?

  The elevator doors opened and Maya was struck by a scent that was suspiciously similar to feral tomcat. She held her breath and dived into the tight space, repeatedly punching the button for the third floor, hoping the smell wouldn’t stick to her clothes. Although chances were the interviewer would be immune to the smell. She shuddered at the thought of getting used to the rank odor, and inhaled without thinking. The doors opened and she fell out, coughing. She leaned against the wall, her interview nerves catching up to her.

  She blinked back tears of desperation and drummed up the enthusiasm she’d been practicing in the car. She could do this. She needed this job only to help her get established in the city, then she could move on to something better.

  Save the cottage. Save herself. Move on.

  A woman in a disheveled suit hurried past her, asking, “Are you the three o’clock?”

  “Interview? Yes.” Maya stepped forward, hand outstretched. “Maya Summer.”

  The woman gave it a brief clench, directing her into a nearby, vacant room. “Okay, let’s get to this. Why do you want to work for HL Financial and Tax Services?”

  “I like numbers.” Maya smoothed her dress, mentally chiding herself. She liked numbers? Could her reply be any more lame? “I am well organized and pay great attention to detail. I also have a good memory, and filling out forms, doing math and organizing taxes appeals to me.”

  “What’s your experience with taxes?”

  “I’ve filed my own for several years.”

  “Any courses? Job experience?” The woman flicked Maya’s one-page résumé as she scanned it.

  “I am a fast learner and—”

  “I don’t need a fast learner. I need someone with the necessary skills so they can jump in at a dead run. No coop placements? Internships? Summer jobs that have to do with financial management?”

  A scruffy looking cat meandered through the room.

  “I was in charge of cashing out each night at the—”

  “Snowy Cone? I’m sorry, Maya, but that’s just not what we’re looking for. From your cover letter it sounded as though you had experience. Why didn’t you do a coop while at the U of T?”

  The cat began scratching a leather chair at the end of the table. Maya made a psst sound and tried to wave the cat away from the rapidly disintegrating chair. It turned to her, fangs and hissing noises.

  “Don’t pester Freud or he’ll spray.”

  Maya took a moment. Was she seriously considering a job she wasn’t interested in? A job that came with a mean, spraying tomcat who destroyed office furniture and who knew what else? Yes. Yes, she was.

  “Why didn’t you do a coop?” the interviewer repeated.

  “My mother isn’t well.” Maya pinched her hands between her knees and resisted the urge to plead with the woman. This was her seventeenth interview this summer, after almost a hundred applications. The only job she’d got was back home as a fill-in receptionist at the dealership, plus her old job at the Bar ’n’ Grill—and even that was only one night a week, with the next two weeks off. “I’ve been going home each summer to help my sisters care for her. That’s why I haven’t been able to do practicums and gain experience during the summers.”

  “You haven’t done any during the school year?”

  “I didn’t, no.” No need to admit that she didn’t know the right people to get those placements. It would only make her sound bitter and full of excuses, albeit legitimate ones.

  “Well, I’m sorry to hear of your troubles, but sadly, there is nothing we can do for each other at this point.” The woman stood. “Please call us when you have more experience.”

  Maya stood and tried to remain upbeat. “Thank you for your time.”

  The woman paused at the door. “If you can afford it, Maya, get some relevant experience, even if it’s volunteer work. Offer to help out accountants in your hometown, anything related. It’s better than nothing.”

  Accountant work? She wanted to buy and sell companies and get her hands dirty, not spend all day balancing numbers in a spreadsheet.

  “Thank you.”

  Maya let herself out of the building, then sat in her car, sniffing her outfit for hints of lingering elevator smell. She seemed to be in the clear, luckily. Both in terms of smell and avoiding working in an environment rife with hissing cats. Well, at least one.

  Maybe she could drive over to Connor’s massive building and offer to work for him in Toronto. Anything. Even the mailroom was sounding good.

  She rubbed her forehead and checked the clock on the dash. It would be after four by the time she found his office and got through traffic. Maybe even five. But he’d still be there. Men such as Connor didn’t leave early. And after a weekend away, he’d be working extra hard, she knew.

  She could beg, plead, whine. She’d do even the most menial jobs, and do them for free. Evenings and weekends she could work in a bar to pay her rent—or stay at Backpackers, the hostel on Dundas, and ride her bicycle. She’d have to do it for only a few months before the lack of sleep caught up with her, but by then she’d have proved herself, and Connor would start paying her what she was worth. Then she’d be right where she’d always dreamed of being.

  She pulled out onto the main road, her car stalling in the backed up traffic. She restarted her engine, leaving a cloud of exhaust that made her cough. Silly old thing. Leaning across the seat, she rolled down the passenger window. Warm, muggy city air. Nothing ever felt better.

  A man carrying a briefcase leaned in and said, “How much per mile?”

  “Oh, um, about twelve kilometers per liter when I’m in traffic like this.” She waited for the light to change, wishing she’d locked the doors. In the city you never knew what people were going to do—even if they were wearing a suit. She keyed up a business podcast, ignoring the man.

  “I meant what’s your rate? Your fare?” Maya frowned. “You’re a taxi, aren’t you?”

  “Oh!” Maya put down her phone, contemplating the man. Picking him up would help cover her interview expenses. Sure, Hailey had given her a twenty for taking her to the airport earlier, but still, Muskoka to Toronto wasn’t a cheap drive in this beater. “Yeah, of course. Where do you want to go?”

  “Eaton Center.”

  “That’s a long drive.” And just about exactly where she was heading.

  “How much would it cost?”

  “You know what? I’m already heading that way. How about forty bucks? Flat rate.”

  The man opened the back door, chucking in his briefcase. “Let’s go!”

  Maya laughed. She liked this guy. He could live by her nickname—Snap—that her sisters had given her, too. Snap decisions and all that—they might tease her about it but the fact was she got stuff done.

  “I’ve never heard of your company—Alvin’s Taxi—bef
ore,” he said.

  “We usually work in Muskoka.” Maybe she shouldn’t get a new car when she moved to the city. She could run her so-called taxi instead of biking and pick up a few fares as needed to help cover the cost of running a car. Well, until the police asked to see her taxi license or whatever it was she needed to operate in the city. Maybe she could drive for Uber or Lyft or something.

  “Must be a lot cooler than in the city right now.”

  “It’s a bit cooler,” she admitted. She offered him her bag of trail mix. “Hungry?”

  “No, thanks. Mind if I smoke?”

  Maya shrugged.

  He rolled down the back windows and lit up as her car crawled forward.

  “The expressway might be faster this time of day.”

  “Construction.”

  The man sighed. “Always construction.”

  “Do you need to be there by a certain time?”

  “Forty minutes.”

  “Hmm.” Maya eased her car forward and onto the curb as she squeezed past a truck and into an alley. “Hang on. This might be rough.” She cruised the alleys, zigzagging her way across side streets until they opened up on a bigger thoroughfare where she could get her overheating car moving at a good speed, cooling it down.

  “Did I ever mention how much I like your cab company?” he said, a smile in his voice.

  Maya laughed. “We aim to please.” She glanced in the rearview mirror. “Where do you work?”

  “Roundhouse Exports.”

  “Yeah? What’s that like?”

  “Pretty good. Two weeks off, paid. Health spending account.”

  “What’s the work like? What do you do there?”

  “I travel a lot. I used to be quality control. Now I’m distributor assessment. We could use a creative problem solver such as yourself. We’re always on the lookout for people who can figure out how to maneuver around roadblocks.”

  “I’m for hire.”

  He laughed.

  “Business degree from U of T. Graduated top of my class.”

  “And you’re driving cab? The economy really is in the crapper.”

  “Nobody will hire me, because I have very limited experience,” she said with a sigh.