I lock the doors of my I’m-An-Obnoxious-Prick BMW and head to the elevators of Knox Security’s underground parking garage, ready to start day two of my job. I’m waiting for the doors to open when Uncle Ludo shows up next to me, car keys jangling as he tucks them into the pocket of his suit.

“Jordan! How’s my new junior manager today?”

“I’m alright, Uncle Ludo. How are you?”

“Good as ever, good as ever,” he chimes as we get into the elevator. “Did you get my memo about the budget?

I nod. I’ve gotten several memos from Ludo already today. He sends them out to the finance team on an almost hourly basis. I think he just likes the chance to prove he’s capable of using modern technology.

The doors open to let a few people in at the lobby, and Ludo checks his watch.

“Hmm. Still early. Why don’t you join me for a coffee, Jordan? We can get you up to speed on the department.”

While spending an extensive amount of time with Ludo is not on my list of favourite things to do, I figure that I can’t really turn the head of my department down, and would also take just about any excuse to put off going into the office.

“Sure,” I answer, and we step into the lobby and then out onto 19^th Street.

There’s a medium-sized cafe just beside the Knox building. In all the years of coming here, I’ve never been inside. I’d blame it on a preference for drinking my espressos at home, where they don’t cost me six dollars apiece and can be enjoyed naked if desired, but the truth is I’m just not really a coffee guy.

A bell chimes above us as we walk inside. The place is busy at this hour of the day, and there are a few people ahead of us in line. I scan the menu boards attached to the wall. They’re faded and tacky, with clipart coffee cups and bubble letter headings. The whole place is in need of a revamp.

That doesn’t stop the drinks from being wildly overpriced, though. I’m deciding between a tea and a regular brewed coffee when Ludo gives me one of his spine-crushing back slaps.

“Well if it isn’t that hot little thing I found in your office yesterday.”

I look behind the counter and see that he’s right.

The catering girl, the spoon girl, the hiding-under-my-desk-with-my-briefcase girl, is sliding a tray of muffins into the glass display case.

When thinking about her yesterday— which I did a lot of— I told myself that I had to be mentally exaggerating how pretty she was. Seeing her again, in that oh-so-easy-to-untie apron as she lines up the muffins to make them perfectly straight, makes me realize that I was wrong.

“What was her name again?” asks Ludo.

“Uh...”

It hits me then that I didn’t even think to ask.

“Don’t even know her name? Jordan, you dog.”

Ludo thumps his hand against me yet again. I swear I can feel a bruise developing between my shoulder blades, and decide I’ll have to start wearing some sort of protective vest if I’m going to be spending this much time around him.

“Good on you, son.”

I decide it’s time to set things straight.

“Look, Uncle Ludo, she was just dropping off my briefcase. Really. It wasn’t—”

“Jordan, Jordan. Don’t think you need to explain this sort of thing to me.” He lets out one of his raspy laughs. “I know what it’s like, finding yourself in close quarters with a girl like that. A man just can’t help himself, especially with the ladies being easier than ever these days. So long as you’re discrete, you go ahead and get your kicks.”

I often find myself wondering how Ludo managed to completely miss out on every development in women’s rights over the last half century, or ever get laid. This is one of those moments.

“Ludo, I never—”

He just makes a shushing sound as the person ahead of us steps aside and we move up to the cash register. Another girl in her twenties stands behind it.

“Good morning, Miss. Look at you, pressing all those buttons so quick. I’ll have whatever drink is your favourite.”

I want to crawl under a table when I see the look of disbelief the girl gives Ludo, or at least try to make it seem like I’m not with him. We’ve already walked up together though, and she turns to ask what I’d like.

I order a black tea and try to put as much sympathy and remorse into the words as I can.

“Hailey!” the cashier calls to someone in the kitchen, as Ludo insists on paying for both our drinks. “I need a cappuccino and a black tea, please.”

So that’s her name, I think as the back of a strawberry blonde head appears and calls out “Coming up!” before getting to work on the drinks.

Ludo and I take a seat at one of the vinyl topped tables while we wait.

“Now Jordan, before we get into any talk of finance, I want to tell you that, well—” Ludo stops mid sentence to bang his fists on the table in a display of emotion. “Damn it Jordan, I’m proud of you!”

Oh god.

I cannot handle a sentimental speech from Ludo, not in public. He forges on with it anyways.

“Now, I know you and your father haven’t always seen eye to eye, especially after the whole business with Mrs. Knox—”

My heart pounds at the mention of my mother and I clench my fists on the table in front of me. Ludo realizes his mistake and changes the subject.

“I just want you to know that even your father and I don’t always see eye to eye. Emerson works hard, I’ll give him that, but the man doesn’t know how to let loose. You, though, you turned out to be a man after my own heart. Chasing tail right out of the gate—”

He jerks his thumb in the direction of the counter and I start to interrupt, but he talks right over me.

“You’ve got what it takes, Jordan, and I think you’re going to fit in well in my department. I’m going to put in a good word with your father, tell him you’re off to a strong start.”

While Ludo’s definition of a ‘strong start’—namely, thinking I banged a caterer in my office when I was supposed to be working— is beyond questionable, I could use any kind of positive feedback that makes its way to my dad, so I just nod my thanks and hope he’s not going to be telling him why he feels my start has been strong.

Our drinks arrive, and the weight of disappointment hits me when it’s the cashier, not Hailey, who brings them over. Although, seeing as I just knowingly allowed Ludo to believe she and I are intimately acquainted, a twinge of guilt hits me like the snap of an elastic band when I think about pursuing any kind of conversation with her.

Ludo takes a sip of his cappuccino and grimaces. “You know who drinks this kind of shit, Jordan?”

I don’t even bother answering because I know he’ll just keep talking anyways.

“Pansies!” he exclaims. “This pansy shit will be the death of me. Whatever happened to just a strong, black cup of coffee?”

I’m about to tell him that black coffee is on the menu when he informs me that he has to “piss like a racehorse” and takes off towards the washroom.

I pull the teabag out of my tea and set it on the saucer.

After I’ve taken my first sip, I set the teacup down to find Hailey just a few feet away, wiping off the tabletops with a cloth. Half of me wants her to notice me, to see what kind of expression forms in those blue eyes when she does, and the other half hopes she gets called away before that can happen.

She moves one table closer and turns her head towards me. Her mouth falls open just a bit, pale eyebrows arching upwards.

“You,” she says, her gaze finding mine.

“Me,” I say back, attempting a smile.

She drops her eyes and starts wiping the table again. “Looks like you’re the stalker, not me,” she remarks, derisively enough that I can’t tell if she’s joking.

“I didn’t know you worked here.”

She shoots me a sideways glance and a small smirk that’s sexy enough to have my pants feeling tight. “That’s what they all say.”

This girl...

She starts to clean the table right next to me, and as she bends over and stretches her arm out, I have to draw in a breath and avert my eyes from the ‘jugs’ Ludo is so appreciative of before she catches me staring.

Once the table is wiped, she flings the cloth over her shoulder and straightens up, crossing her arms in front of her and leaning one hip against the table.

“So are you his sidekick or is he yours?”

She nods her head towards the counter. I crane my neck to find Ludo talking to the very reluctant looking cashier.

“Him,” says Hailey as I turn back to face her. “The one who came into your office yesterday. The one who...”

The sight of her flushed face, which somehow manages to make her look even prettier, fills me with the urge to fling my teacup across the room, grab her by the waist, and pull her body into mine.

The teacup flinging part may be a bit extraneous, but sometimes a man just has to make a point.

I try to get the conversation back on track. “The one who is a sexist asshole and smells like pastrami?”

She shrugs, trying to hide a smile. “I mean, you said it, not me.”

“He’s the head of my department,” I tell her, “but the idea of being his sidekick makes me a bit uncomfortable.”

“I think he’s making my co-worker more than a bit uncomfortable.”

I look back to the counter and see that Ludo is now trying to do some sort of magic trick with a napkin.

How has this man ever gotten laid?

“I’ll go take him away. We’d better get going anyways.”

She nods and starts to walk away, then looks back at me from over her shoulder.

“Don’t forget your briefcase,” she calls.

She continues towards the kitchen, and I stare after her, my mind memorizing the sway of her hips.

I spend the rest of the morning in my office, answering a never-ending influx of emails and preparing for the meeting I’ve set up later today to get more familiar with the team I’ll be overseeing.

Each time I give myself even a second’s break to look up from my screen, a replay of my conversation with Hailey starts up in my head. This replay just happens to feature a few carefully timed instances of slow motion, along with a rotation of alternative endings that vary in their degree of obscenity.

The rational part of my brain knows that I should let it go. While I may not have had her bent over my desk within hours of meeting her like Ludo now believes—and like I’ve now imagined countless times— letting him continue to think so may not have been the best of moves. I’m on thin enough ice with my father as it is, and an office rumour that suggests I’m being anything less than a focused and productive Knox Security robot is the opposite of what I need.

I try to make the irrational part of my brain understand this as I spend the next hour putting all my energy into pounding out words on my keyboard, pushing away thoughts of pounding Hailey just as hard.

By noon my office is starting to feel like even more of a cage than it usually does, and I head to the cafeteria for lunch. The atmosphere in the chrome-filled room is just as confining, with only the addition of orange jumpsuits missing to make it look like something out of a prison, but at least it’s a change from staring at the same four walls.

I order a sandwich and pay with the employee meal card I’ve had since I was thirteen. Family dinners were a rare occurrence in the Knox household growing up. I’ve had many a breakfast, lunch, and dinner in this cafeteria before.

I grab a seat at one of the metal tables and haven’t even taken a bite of my food when I hear someone call out my name.

“Jordan! Man of the hour!”

Tod Rochester, a blond and artificially tanned thirty-something who has the attitude and build of an overzealous lifeguard, approaches my table. He’s one of the people I’ll be managing.

“How’s it going, Tod?” I ask as he reaches down to give me a bone-crushing handshake.

“Great, Jordan. I’m pumped for the team meeting today, just so pumped.”

I try to keep a straight face. “Glad to hear it.”

“You know,” he continues, leaning down to prop an elbow on my table, “I’m gonna be honest, Jordan. When we heard about the new management, me and the guys weren’t so sure. The finance department’s got a rep for itself around here, you know what I’m saying?”

“Sure,” I answer, preoccupied with the fact that he’s now doing what appear to be lunges while still leaning on the table.

“But then Ludo came around and let us all know you’re game.”

His statement is enough to draw my attention from his calf stretching routine.

“Game?” I repeat.

“Yeah.” He looks over his shoulders and then cups both his hands in front of his chest, making the universal sign for boobs.

“What di—” I start to ask, but then he starts doing jumping jacks and I find myself silenced by my own confusion over whether or not he can actually be for real.

“So pumped for that meeting, boss! So pumped!”

He heads toward the exit and I look back down at my lunch, suddenly not hungry anymore.

Two hours later, I’m finishing up a run-through of the overview I’ve prepared for the meeting. It’s an interactive, graphics based presentation that covers introductions and reviews the department’s goals. I put way more work into it than necessary, but I haven’t had many outlets for development and design work lately. My father has made sure of that.

Members of my team start arriving in the meeting room, and they all seem to share Tod’s ‘pumped up’ attitude. I thought his enthusiasm had to be some sort of energy drink induced anomaly; seeing open displays of excitement at Knox Security is usually as rare as spotting a unicorn. As my team of employees assembles, though, I find myself facing a group of eight men staring up at me like frenzied footballer players waiting for a playoff speech from their coach.

I start off with an even toned “Good afternoon, everyone,” and am met with a variety of greetings that range from “Afternoon, boss man!” to Tod’s exclamation of “Yeah! Jorda-sauraus Rex.”

My fears are confirmed when someone calls out, “Look out for the lady killer!” and everyone starts to nod and laugh.

Not only am I now the head of a team of misogynists hand-picked by Ludo, the King of Chauvinism himself, but they also seem to have made me into some kind of womanizing messiah.

I decide to put a stop to things right away.

Laughing along with them a bit to keep myself from coming off as too tense, I wave my hands in a ‘let’s settle down’ gesture and take a seat at the table, putting us all on the same level.

“Alright all you...guys. Let’s, uh, get real.”

Buddying up with these people is turning out to be harder than I thought.

“I think there might be some rumours going around the office, but I want you all to know that I take my job here very seriously and I expect you to do the same. Let’s be professionals.”

“Professional skirt chasers,” mutters a man who looks twice my age but has to be more, because how many decades has it been since anyone used the term ‘skirt chaser’?

I swear I’m going to put Ludo in the hospital before this day is done.

“Like I said, let’s be professionals. Please ignore whatever you might have heard going around the office. We’re here to talk about finance. So on that note—”

I begin my presentation, but the knowing smiles everyone is now exchanging makes it clear my point hasn’t gotten across.

“Look,” I say, frustration getting the better of me, “I wasn’t going to get explicit about this, but anything you’ve heard about me and any woman in this building isn’t true.”

They all just keep smirking. The anger in me is about to reach boiling point when the oldest man in the room, the one who made the skirt chasing remark, cuts off the string of expletives I was about to let out and starts speaking with a fatherly air.

“Let the man speak now, boys. He’s right. We do have work to do. There’ll be plenty of time to compare notes on coochies later on.”

I grip the folder in front of me so hard my hands shake as I fight the urge to tear it into shreds. Much like the rest of my life, this meeting is not going according to plan.