Boss I Love To Hate

by Kayla, Mia

  For the first time, Brad looked so helpless that I couldn’t help but feel bad for him.

  I placed a hand on his forearm and squeezed. “Let me talk to her for a second. Stay here.”

  I found Sarah in the nail section, studying a bottle of dark pink. She stared blankly at the label, reading it as though it had the secret to all her problems.

  I sighed. The teenage years were tough. From feeling like you wanted to crawl out of your skin sometimes and not knowing who you were to the hormonal stages

  “I know it sucks, and it’s a little uncomfortable to be here with someone you barely know and, worse, your uncle. But at least, he’s trying, and hopefully, your mom will come back soon.”

  “My mom’s dead.” Her voice was barely above a whisper, and I strained to hear her. “She died, giving birth to Mary.”

  My heart clenched. Crap. I had known that. I’d meant Becky, not her biological mom. Damn it, I should’ve been more careful. A heaviness settled in the pit of my stomach. I had known Charles’s wife had passed, but I hadn’t known the cause, but now that I knew, it felt more real—deeper—than hearing it through the grapevine at work.

  “I’m sorry about your mom, kiddo. I’m sure you want her to be here instead of talking to me.”

  “It’s not like I don’t love Becky …” Sarah’s voice strained, and she dropped her lashes to hide the hurt. “I just miss her.” Her lip quivered. “A lot of girls in my class were starting to get theirs already. And they’d say things like, ‘My mom took me here, and we had ice cream after I got my period,’ or, ‘My mom gave me a book, and we went over it together.’”

  My heart hurt for her and the sadness in her eyes and the longing in her voice at her loss because there was nothing like a mother. I knew because I had the best one out there.

  My mother was my best friend, my confidant. I couldn’t imagine my life without her. Thinking about Sarah and how she’d lost her mother at a very young age tore at my insides. I could feel her sorrow, this huge, painful knot inside.

  I reached for her clenched hand and squeezed, needing to comfort her. The sadness was heavy in her big brown, innocent eyes, but eventually, her fingers relaxed in mine.

  I swallowed the lump in my throat before speaking. “I’m nowhere near a good stand-in, but I know this awesome place that has the best rolled ice cream. What do you say?” I leaned in, tipping my head toward hers.

  She nodded, and then, after a beat, she gave my hand a tight squeeze. “You’re so much better than Uncle Brad. He just gets really weird about this stuff, and it makes me feel weird because he’s weird. Then, everything is weird.”

  I nodded. Boy, did I know it.

  I playfully tugged the end of her hair and then bumped my shoulder against hers. “I know. I’ve worked with him long enough to know he is just plain weird.”

  Sarah laughed, which lifted the mood.

  I leaned into her, ducking my head to get closer. “And I want to let you know that, from this moment on, we are friends, and you can call me about any question or any thought or about random things. Because I’m a girl, and I have sisters and nieces and cousins, so I understand.” I threw her a conspiratorial look. “Don’t worry; I won’t tell your uncle.”

  Sarah smiled. Then, she took a step forward, erasing the space between us, and gave me a soul-crushing hug that shocked me. As she relaxed in my arms, I rubbed her back, holding her tighter against me. To be so young yet to have experienced such tragedy made my heart hurt.

  When I lifted my head, I noticed we weren’t alone. Right behind us, down the aisle, Brad was staring with narrowed eyes. Except he was no longer looking at Sarah. He was looking at me.

  * * *

  Brad

  “Ice cream?” I peered down at my Rolex. “Not sure we have time for ice cream right now.”

  We walked out of the drugstore and down the street, back to the office. Both girls had their arms linked and were practically skipping down the sidewalk in front of me. I couldn’t help but smile, especially when my day had started so horribly, and now, my Sarah seemed happy, so content.

  People dressed in their suits and business attire rushed past us to get to work. Where mostly everyone was carrying their cups of coffee, I was carrying bags of sanitary pads.

  The crying fits and hormonal outbreaks seemed to have stopped—for now, at least—and now, I needed to get back to the office and do some real work. Today, I needed to contact my sources about Titan Printing. It would seem as though the deal was off the table, that they were no longer looking for a buyer, even though their bottom line and talks in the industry said they’d be bankrupt within six months. I needed to seal this deal. Titan was on my wish list, and I was eager to acquire them.

  “You can pick up a tub of ice cream on the way if that’s what you want.”

  “Does this mean I’m out of school the whole day?” Sarah’s eyes brightened. “Because, if I am, I want to walk around downtown or something.”

  “By yourself?”

  She obviously didn’t mean by herself. She was twelve.

  “Yes, by myself,” Sarah sassed.

  To be young and think you could fly and do anything you damn well pleased. Nope. Not happening.

  “No.” I shut her down quick. Just when I thought my day was looking brighter, I sensed Sarah’s pouting face beside me, but I ignored it.

  I had to get back to work. My morning meetings were canceled, but that didn’t mean I could cancel my afternoon meetings as well. Charles and Mason were out of town, which meant that I had to keep the machine running.

  “But, Uncle Brad,” Sarah whined.

  “No,” I snapped, stepping through the revolving doors.

  Twelve-year-olds thought they could rule the world and that bad guys didn’t exist when, in actuality, in every corner, there was a predator. I read the paper every morning, and I watched Dateline.

  “Most definitely not. You brought your backpack with you. Your homework—you can do that.” I tipped my chin in Sonia’s direction. “Maybe Sonia and you can go out to lunch while I work.”

  That seemed to brighten Sarah’s mood, and Sonia nodded beside her.

  “Of course. Sarah, I’d love to take you out to lunch.” She bumped her shoulder against Sarah’s like they were suddenly best friends.

  I wanted to be jealous of their immediate connection, but I couldn’t. It was too nice, seeing a smile on Sarah’s face.

  “Then, we can get some ice cream.” Sonia eyed me with a smirk. “I’ll grab the corporate card.”

  I shook my head as we entered Brisken Printing Corp. and passed by security.

  “Hey, Tommy.” Sonia waved to the security guard, an older male with salt-and-pepper hair in a navy-blue suit and tie. Then, she proceeded to wave to two more people who passed. “Jenny. Christine.” She tipped her chin and greeted other people as we entered the turnstiles, heading to the elevator.

  When we entered the elevator, I turned toward her. “Do you know everyone here?”

  She rolled her eyes. “No. Just people who’ve worked here forever. Tommy has been here for twenty-five years.”

  I frowned. I’d thought his name was Ted. “I know Tommy.”

  She raised her eyebrows in a challenge. Why is it that my secretary knows when I’m bullshitting her?

  Her tone was condescending and all-knowing—her typical Sonia tone. “Then, why don’t you smile or say hi? Because I guarantee you’ll want to know his name when you’re in trouble. Sometimes, you have to move out of that bubble world of yours.” She turned toward Sarah and smiled. “What kind of food are you into?”

  “Tacos,” Sarah said.

  Whatever. I was close. Tom, Ted. I’d like to think I paid attention to the things that mattered most, not the little details. We had security, and they were well trusted and had worked for us for quite a long time. That was all that mattered, right? Sonia was responsible enough to get them all Christmas presents.

  “Did those two girls work for
us, too?”

  Sonia made a face, visibly irritated. “Yes.” Then, she turned to Sarah, and her smile was back on. “I love tacos, too. I know this awesome Mexican place I can take you to.”

  I scratched at my temple, and my expression pinched because I had never seen those women before. “Which taco place?” I turned my attention back to the conversation.

  Her smile disappeared as though I were her off switch. “You wouldn’t know it.”

  I clenched my jaw, annoyed. Just because I hadn’t recognized some of my employees didn’t mean I was clueless about downtown Chicago. “Try me.” I’d worked downtown for years and tried every restaurant there was by myself, on dates, and on client calls. “You’re talking about Mario’s, right?” This time, I threw a challenging look back at her.

  Her smile was smug. “No. You haven’t been there.”

  “Try me,” I repeated, hating that this woman was so sure when she was wrong.

  “Gomez’s Burritos.” She watched for my reaction.

  Shit. Well, that’s a first.

  I cleared my throat, pretending like it didn’t bother me that she knew something I didn’t. “That’s down here? Is that a new place?”

  “No, not new. It’s been down here for years, just like Tommy and Christine and Jenny have been working for you forrrr-ever,” she dragged out.

  If I didn’t need Sonia so much, I’d be tempted to strangle her.

  When the elevator opened, she reached for Sarah’s hand and ushered her onto our floor. I blew out a breath, letting go of all this annoyance.

  When we entered my office, Sonia picked up a pad of paper and her iPad from my desk and gave Sarah a genuine smile. “I’ll pick you up at lunch.” Then, her smile slipped—again—as she probed me with a look. “Brad, about that deal. Don’t forget about it.”

  “I won’t.” I scratched my head, wondering where the hell Gomez’s Burritos was. I always wanted to be in the know.

  And, about the arrangement I’d made, maybe I should have heard the deal out before I agreed. I was a businessman after all, and agreeing to something without ironing out the details was a bad deal. She could ask me for money or a vacation.

  I dropped to my chair and booted up my computer.

  I wasn’t too worried. I’d known Sonia for two years. She was completely and utterly harmless.

  Chapter 6

  Sonia

  My fingers tapped against the keyboard, updating Brad’s schedule and ordering supplies for the office. After finishing my morning routine, I dialed Ava’s number. I never called during work hours, so she had to know this was an emergency. And this was big, awesome news my best friend needed to hear.

  Before she even had a chance to say hello, my excitement exuded over the phone. “Ava, I know who I’m taking to the wedding.” Though I hadn’t asked him yet, Brad had promised, so I assumed this was a done deal.

  This plan was falling perfectly into my lap. Brad was the finest man that I had ever known. He looked like he’d walked out of a GQ spread with his dark, tousled hair, broad shoulders, chin chiseled from the Greek gods. My two single guy friends were not up to his caliber in looks, in height, in stature, and I had to bring my gun locked and loaded, pointed directly at my replacement. I didn’t want to look like a loser who hadn’t had a date since her breakup when, in actuality, I was a loser who hadn’t had a date since my breakup—eight long months ago and counting. If the replacement was stunning in her pictures online, I dreaded meeting her in person. But, now, I had ammunition—the BILK.

  “Who are you taking?” Her voice heightened with enthusiasm.

  I peered up at my computer, looked into his office, and ducked under my desk.

  I couldn’t hold my excitement any longer. “Your BILF,” I sassed.

  Wait for it. Wait for it.

  I pulled the phone away when she squealed loud enough to bust my eardrum.

  She breathed heavily for a couple of seconds before she spoke again. “How did you get him to do that?”

  “Are you having hot flashes now?” I laughed. “Anyway, we struck an arrangement.”

  I went into the details of our arrangement. Ava coughed up her morning joe when I mentioned the sanitary pads.

  “This couldn’t be more perfect if you tried. I can’t believe you told him what you’re going to do, and he’s okay with it. I mean, buying pads for his niece and being your pretend date for the wedding is not necessarily an even deal.”

  My gaze dropped to the ground, noting the coffee stain on the carpet from over a year ago. “Well … I haven’t exactly told him yet.”

  So what though? Brad was a pompous ass, a womanizer, but a man of his word in business.

  “You haven’t told him yet?” She paused. “Well then, you have to have a backup plan.”

  There was no backup plan. Brad had to come with me. I couldn’t come with a dud. Maybe I could hire someone? But I didn’t have that kind of cash.

  “He’ll agree to it.” But, as those words slipped out of my mouth, there was no certainty in my voice.

  Would he? This wasn’t your typical boardroom deal, but he’d promised me.

  Sarah rushed out of Brad’s office. “Uncle Brad wants to go with us to lunch. Can you please tell him no? He’s being so annoying today.” Her eyes skittered behind her, her voice frantic.

  I smiled at her and then told Ava I’d call her back.

  “I can’t. He’s my boss.” I dropped the phone back into the receiver.

  “He’s having the worst possible conversation with me right now. Like, how I’m turning into a woman now.” She grimaced. “And I know he’s reading a script because he’s staring at his computer screen the whole time as he does it and pauses to ask me if I have questions.”

  I cringed, knowing how uncomfortable she must feel, but I had to give him some credit. At least he was trying.

  Then, sympathy kicked in. My mother had gone through the motions with me, read me all the books, and we’d have long talks about puberty. Sarah’s mother was gone. Her only info was from what she had been getting from sex ed in school or from Becky.

  She plopped down in the seat by my desk. “And then, somehow, the conversation turned into a ‘boy’ talk.” She placed the word in air quotes. “And about how I shouldn’t date until I’m thirty. And to finish school. It’s not like I’m not gonna finish school. I want to go and finish college.” She slapped her forehead. “Doesn’t he know that?”

  It was amazing how kids were so animated with their hands when they talked. My sixteen-year-old sister was the same way.

  Yeah, Brad was taking this personal counseling session a little too far.

  I placed a tender hand on her shoulder and squeezed. “I’ll tell him you want girl time, alone.”

  My desk phone rang with two beeps that indicated that Brad was beckoning. I pressed the receiver and picked up. “Hello? I’ll order your lunch. We are just about to leave.” Direct and to the point, and I hadn’t asked him to come with me. It was my way of helping Sarah out. I threw her a sideways glance and winked.

  “I’m going to lunch with you guys.” His tone was clipped, short, and brooked no argument. “You have to give me at least fifteen minutes until I call a couple of clients back.” Then, he hung up.

  Rude much? I stared at the phone. “He hung up on me. Again. Is your uncle always so rude?”

  She nodded and then picked up my Harry Potter bobblehead at the edge of my desk. “Always. Mostly to Uncle Mason. They’re close in age, and that’s why they fight so much. At least, that’s what Dad says.”

  “Nice to know he’s consistent. I was starting to get offended.”

  I shot him an e-mail, stood from my chair, and then grabbed my purse from my drawer. “I’ll get him lunch on our way back. I just e-mailed him.” He’d be pissed, and I’d probably pay for this later, but ask me if I cared. Sarah and I were on a mission—to spend quality time together and get tacos, alone.

  Sarah’s face relaxed, and she placed
down my favorite figurine. She linked her arm through mine as I led us to the elevators.

  “And to Gomez’s Burritos we shall go,” I singsonged.

  * * *

  We were seated in a booth in the far corner of the restaurant, right by the window where we could people-watch outside. The scent of meats and spices and grease in the air bombarded our senses.

  Gomez’s Burritos did not disappoint.

  “Mary loves quesadillas. We have to take her here.” Sarah took an overly big bite of her burrito, the sauce dripping onto the tin foil wrapper it had come in.

  I almost forgot how hungry teenagers were, but then again, it was her time of the month.

  After putting her burrito down, she reached for a chip and dipped it in the salsa. “But she’s weird. She puts sugar on everything. Pizza and spaghetti, and I bet she’d put it on this quesadilla, too. Funny enough, Brad is her dealer.” The corner of her mouth quirked up, mid-chew.

  After I spooned some of the best Mexican rice in the universe into my mouth, I leaned in closer. “Dealer?”

  “Mary’s sugar dealer.” Sarah laughed, seeming to recall a memory.

  She had the brownest eyes and an endless amount of curls that lay mid-shoulder. She was beautiful. I could see Charles in her features. In her square, delicate face and in her eyebrow that would quirk up whenever she was thinking a little too hard. But that was where the similarities ended, and I wondered about their mother and what she had looked like.

  My heart clenched at her loss. I couldn’t imagine life without my mother and father. Our family was crazy, and when one was missing from our get-togethers, it was like losing a limb.

  “Dad tries to monitor Mary’s sugar, but then you’ll have Uncle Brad supplying her behind his back. He carries pouches of sugar or candy with him, just for her.” She put down her burrito and swiped at her eyes as laughter escaped her. “Ask him about it. Ask him if he has some sugar. He stores it in his pockets, and one time, it was in his sock ’cause he had nowhere else to hide it.”