A great many things can be said about my father, with varying degrees of flattery.

The man was, or at least tried his best to be, always on time. That morning was no exception, and our doorbell rang at exactly ten o’clock. I felt a tinge of agitation as I reached for the doorknob, but forced myself to get over it.

He greeted me with a warm hug before I even had the chance to say anything. The scent of his signature cologne forced its way into my lungs as he squeezed me tight — it had been a while ever since he last saw me.

Brianna disappeared into the kitchen to brew some coffee as we exchanged the usual pleasantries. We sat on the couch to chat as we normally did, and I braced myself for the incoming rain of questions: how have you been, why don’t you call more often, how’s the job search going and a slew of others that would make a police interrogation look like a walk in the park.

“Everything’s fine, dad. Don’t worry!” I reassured him, though I wasn’t too certain he was the one that needed it.

“Are you sure?” He rebutted, raising his eyebrows ever so slightly. He always did that, it was his way of saying you’re full of shit and you know it.

I sighed as I prepared to be subjected to yet another one of his lectures, wondering what angle he might play. Could it be something about the house, or maybe the coffee shop I worked at? There was only one dreadful way to find out, which sadly involved listening to his entire tirade until he inevitably got worked up by my lack or input. As always.

Despite being used to his antics, I tried to snake away from it and shoot him a question, hoping it would buy me some time.

“You mentioned a fundraiser a few days ago, right? How’d that go?” I threw that bait with quite a bit of uncertainty yet I still hoped he would take it. He did, but as I was about to find out, I simply played myself.

“Oh about that…” His face flashed red with anger and his jaw clenched tight for just a split second. It piqued my interest, knowing that usually nothing interesting ever happens in such occasions.

“Nothing too grandiose, really. Met some old acquaintances, played a few hands of poker…” Dad’s reply somehow didn’t convince me. He was no stranger to telling tales of his meetings and dinners just to entice me to attend them with him, yet that time he chose not to. It was certainly suspicious, but I simply nodded.

I heard some clattering coming over from the kitchen and footsteps following right after. Coffee was finally ready and Brianna was in the process of bringing it over, it seemed.

“Although, I may have committed a mistake,” He confessed, and before I could say anything, he added “And it involves you.”

Brianna’s footsteps stopped and then quickly retreated. Bitch. It was understandable though, she just wanted to give us some space while she obviously eavesdropped from the safety of the kitchen. Double bitch.

I rolled my eyes and sighed in frustration.

“What did you do?” I asked, my inquisitive tone failing to faze him even in the slightest of ways. I made a mental note to work on it as my father looked for the courage to spill the beans, and thankfully it didn’t take him too long.

He began his explanation by spinning a long winded tale about his old rival, perhaps hoping to kill me with boredom or distract me so I wouldn’t be mad at him. It hardly worked, at least the part about distracting me.

“Get to the point, dad.” I was starting to get annoyed and mildly angry, and he hadn’t even said anything incriminating yet. There were a few reasons I rarely called, and that was among them.

“We were playing poker. Just me, Wallace, Liv—” I cut him off, throwing my hands up in the air in exasperation. 

“Get to the point!” I hissed. I was starting to get mad, annoyance having evolved already.

He seemed taken aback and even mildly offended, but at that point I just wanted to find out what he’d done.

“I said…Promised you’d work for Harris.” He admitted, a hint of anger in his voice suggesting it hadn’t been his idea.

“Harris? That Harris? The person you probably hate the most in the entire world?“ I asked, my question sounded more like an accusation.

“Yes, but…” My father tried to get a word in but I cut him off again, manners be damned.

“And you want me to work for him? Out of all people?” I couldn’t believe him. I remember listening to him complaining about that man for ages. I didn’t know him personally and all I knew about him came from my father’s skewed perception, but Harris still felt like a somewhat distant relative I was supposed to hate.

“Not him. His son, rather. David passed away, remember?” From his tone and the look on his face, I could tell that deep down respected his old rival. If only my father had some of that respect saved up for others, too…

 The bewildered look on my face prompted him to continue his seemingly carefully planned speech. Not once he mentioned whose idea that had been, or why he decided to speak in my behalf without even so much as calling me to see if I’d agree.

I simply sat there, halfway between stunned compliance and rabid defiance, product of the absurdity of the whole situation. I couldn’t even remember how many times I said I wouldn’t work for him, but I must admit the idea of working for one of his friends — or enemies — never truly came up. With Shaw’s shop possibly on the brink of failure, I was conflicted.

He finished his needlessly long sales pitch and a strange silence fell on the entire apartment. No sounds came from the kitchen, Brianna had long since stopped trying to cover up her blatant eavesdropping. My father waited, glancing at me to try and predict what my response would be.

The truth was I simply didn’t know what to say.

“It’s a lot to take in, I’m not ready to give you an answer right away,” I nervously blurted out. There was no lie in that statement, however. It would be a big change of pace for me, one that I wasn’t entirely too sure I could— or even wanted — to take just yet.

“Lucy, think about the future! I just want what’s best for you.” I swept aside the hand he tried to place on my shoulder, hoping to comfort me like he used to when I was younger. It only made it worse, but what truly hurt were his incessant assumptions. We had different ideas of what would be best for me, and despite my proven independence  he still insisted on treating me like a toddler in a knife store.

It took all the willpower I had not to lash out at him, and probably say something I’d end up regretting later. Again, I wasn’t a little girl anymore.

I waved him off. “Just… Go. I’ll let you know.”

My father took a deep breath as he stared at me. I hoped he recognized his mistakes, though even if he did he would never own up to them. That had always been the Reynolds way, after all.

He stood up and sighed wearily before heading towards the door, muttering a soft “See you soon, dear.” under his breath. My reply was similarly weak, so much so that I couldn’t tell if he’d heard it or not. Either way, he shut the door behind him. 

Brianna resurfaced from the depths of the kitchen, cup of lukewarm coffee in hand. She placed it on the small table that stood in front of the couch and sat beside me. I stared off into nothing and let a minute or two pass before speaking up.

“What the fuck am I supposed to do now?” It was a rhetorical question, up to a certain extent. I was stumped, and definitely still upset.

“What do you mean?” Brianna’s nonchalant reply warranted a slap in the face, as if she hadn’t been listening to our conversation the entire time.

“Bree, come on. Now’s not the time to play that game.” I shot her a glare that could’ve cut clean through steel, but she didn’t budge.

She took a sip of coffee and looked at me with pity in her eyes. “Alright, alright. We’ll work it out.” 

Brianna had a kind and caring personality that truly shone under those circumstances. At times it felt like I had an elder sister or even a second mother, and as much as I didn’t want to admit it, I didn’t mind it nearly as much as one would think, given how I usually am.

“I say go for it. At least just out of spite,” She shrugged.

I had thought about it, yet it still felt wrong. “And what about Shaw? I can’t just bail on him like that!”

“Yeah, you can. At least temporarily,” Brianna paused.  “If you really want to come back to that place, that is.”

I took a deep breath and went through and imaginary list of pros and cons. Working for Harris would definitely be more up my alley than being a glorified coffee machine, and it would come with the added benefit of pissing my father off. That side of the deal still wasn’t too clear, though — out of all the possible companies, why Harris Electronics? Why would he apply on my behalf, if that’s even what truly happened, to his direct competitor?

It hardly made sense, and speculations would get me nowhere. I had to make a decision, though I had plenty of time to think it through.

The apartment fell quiet, something that hardly ever happened. Broken by either music or the television, silence was a commodity I rarely got to enjoy.

I reached over to grab the coffee and took a sip. It had gone cold by then, which I didn’t mind. I preferred it, even.

“So, what’re you gonna do?” The million dollar question, finally out in the open.

“I don’t know, Bree. I just don’t like how he went behind my back,” I declared, slumping even further down on the couch. “And why Harris?”

Brianna shrugged. “No idea, but…” She trailed off, and I could already tell the cogs and gears in her head were starting to turn.

“But?” I crossed my arms and looked at her. Brianna’s piercing blue eyes darted to meet mine as she sat up, turning towards me.

“Your father didn’t mention an interview. He flat out threw you at the guy, meaning you could waltz in tomorrow morning and do whatever it is he promised you would do!”

“Secretary. To the damn CEO, no less.” I shook my head, shuddering at the sheer amount of tasks he would undoubtedly have me perform. It surely outweighed working at a deserted coffee shop, in both risk and reward.

Brianna was right, however. My father didn’t mention he’d gotten me an interview, he specifically said I would work for Harris. Her moments of clarity were rare, but she did always find a hidden detail I seemed to miss. Two pairs of ears work better than one, even if hers were covered by her long, bleached blond hair.

“Fuck it,” I declared, slapping my thighs as I jumped up from the couch. “I’ll do it. I’ll go there on Monday, have a chat with Harris and see what’s up.”

“That’s my girl!” She cheered, before making a beeline for the kitchen. “This calls for celebration, and celebration calls for wine!” She added, opening the cupboard to grab two glasses.

“It’s not even noon yet!” I laughed, but there was no stopping Brianna once she set her sights on a bottle of wine. The one she grabbed, we were saving for a special occasion — and this was it. I never thought we’d open it for something as small as a new job, but there we were.

Monday came  after a somewhat relaxing weekend, spent both mentally preparing myself for the upcoming week while simultaneously trying to calm my nerves. 

I let Shaw know I would quit, albeit just temporarily, and he seemed almost relieved to hear so. Apparently the business was hemorrhaging money as well as customers, and his funds wouldn’t have guaranteed a stable paycheck. Still, I promised I would go back to help as soon as I could.

Despite being the cause of all this mess, my father didn’t appear too overjoyed when he heard the news. I still couldn’t make heads or tails of that. It was his idea after all, and despite occasionally acting like a bipolar teenager, my father was the farthest thing from that..

Pushing those thoughts aside, I instead focused on picking an outfit for the day. I must admit I wasn’t too happy with the way I looked, but not many can claim they are.

I used to be a short kid, and even puberty didn’t help. I was just four inches above five feet, but as the say, good things come in small packages.  

Clothes had never been an issue, luckily. Still, I wanted something that would enhance my figure while looking professional enough. Compromises had to be made once I realized my closet couldn’t meet both demands at once. I settled on a white blouse over a black, knee length skirt with heels to match.

Brianna approved with a silent thumbs-up, and before I knew it, I was on my way. 

I left my apartment at seven and roughly an hour later I found myself staring at the Harris Electronics’ giant skyscraper. A tall box that twisted on its axis, fully covered by dark glass panes that acted as a giant mirror, reflecting the sights of the city before them.

I’d seen it plenty of times but never knew my father’s number one enemy worked there, and in a matter of minutes so would I. After taking a deep breath I walked inside, and took a moment to admire my surroundings.

The spherical lights that hung from the tall ceiling cast their cold lights on a monster of marble, metal, and granite. It gave off an imposing vibe, despite being full of life.

I couldn’t even hear my footsteps echo as I walked on the white marble floors, heading directly towards the receptionist’s desk that stood smack dab in the middle of the lobby.

No one paid attention to me, I felt like a ghost in a sea of suits and tailleurs. 

The lady at the receptionist’s desk had apparently been informed of my arrival, and pointed me towards one of the large elevators that stood on either side of the lobby.

I thanked her profusely and made my way there. Inside, the elevator could probably fit about ten or fifteen more people, yet I was the only one on it. I pushed the button to the seventieth floor, where I was told Harris’ office was, and waited for the doors to close.

Just as they were about to, a man slid an arm — a rather muscular one at that, at least judging from what I could see — in between them and triggered the blocking mechanism. It startled me, but I quickly recovered as I pretended not to stare at him while he stepped on the elevator with me.

He pressed the button for the sixtieth floor and calmly stood there in wait. The smell of his cologne filled the air and attacked my nostrils quite aggressively, which somehow complimented his appearance. The charcoal suit he wore couldn’t hide his bulging muscles. The man was tall, easily a foot taller than me. 

Given his appearance I assumed  him to be a bodyguard, one that hopefully I would get to see more of. The doors of the elevators closed, and thus the ride began.

The speakers overhead played a soft, repetitive melody that could barely cover the sound of my thumping heart. With each floor I passed, I found myself becoming more and more agitated.

“First day?” The man said, his voice deep and somehow authoritative. 

“Yeah… Harris’ new secretary, no less. I’m kinda freaking out,” I confessed, suppressing a nervous fit of laughter.

Upon hearing those words, the man turned around to face me. His lips pursed into a slightly devilish smile, albeit just for a second. I raised my gaze to meet his and fought the urge to get lost in it. Green eyes, with floating specks of brown, stared back at me as I took in the rest of him. Chiseled jaw, covered with a neatly trimmed beard and a haircut  simple enough to require no maintenance. Bodyguard, or high end fashion model — I couldn’t quite place him.

“Harris, huh? Heard the man’s a grade A asshole,” He declared, slightly tilting his head towards me.

I chuckled, my apprehension leaking through the cracks. “Wouldn’t be the first time I heard him being addressed as such. Still I’m stuck with him, so…”

He laughed heartily, but straightened himself out right after. “Oh I’m sure you’ll be just fine,” He reassured. 

The doors of the elevator opened, having reached the sixtieth floor. The man stepped off the elevator and disappeared after flashing me another wide smile. “Good luck.” 

“Thanks!” I shot back, just as the doors began to close. 

I breathed out a sigh of relief. That interaction had somehow made me feel better, at least for the time being. The last ten floors went by in a flash.

Tricking myself into believing I was ready, I stepped out of the elevator and found myself staring at a large mahogany desk. To my left, a set of double doors led to what I assumed was Harris’ office, though I couldn’t hear any sound coming from inside.

No replies came after I knocked a couple times, and at that point I wished the man did have a secretary just so she could alert him of my presence. It wasn’t exactly going as I expected — what kind of CEO is late for work?

The sound of footsteps echoed from the stairwell, and I instinctively turned around. The man from the elevator ran up the stairs, it seemed, though I couldn’t quite piece together why.

“I always do that in the morning,” He stated between heavy breaths. “Wakes me up better than anything else!” 

I smiled at him and before I could formulate a reply, he motioned me to follow him as he paced towards Harris’ office. The color drained from my face as the realization hit me like a truck.

I had just basically called my new boss an asshole right to his face, while also having less than pure thoughts about the man whom I thought was his bodyguard.

“Oh no,” I stammered, weakly, as I watched him slide his key card into the slot that stood right beneath the twin handles.

“Come on, Lucy, let’s talk!” He called, after pushing the doors wide open.

Never in my life had I ever wanted to bury myself alive more than that morning, stewing into a cocoon made out of my own dumb decision and runny mouth.

Regardless, I had to focus. I couldn’t simply turn on my heels and leave, despite the overwhelming urge to do so. I fought it and prevailed, albeit not by much.

I swallowed hard — no doubt gulping down some of my pride, too — and tried to assess the situation. Two options laid before me: I could either walk in for the most awkward first day in recorded history, or leave without saying a word.

The latter was tempting, more so that I would have been comfortable with admitting. Alas, I needed the money. I gathered what was left of my self respect and put it aside before finally crossing the threshold into Harris’ office.

It was positively stunning, even if I only got a fleeting glance of it.

The lobby was surely imposing, with all its rough shapes and somewhat brutalist design, but Harris’ office was the complete and polar opposite of it.

From the polished rosewood floors, up to the intricately painted tall ceiling from which hung a massive chandelier, it was obvious Harris took pride in his office. 

His desk had apparently been carved out of a giant log. For a second I tried to imagine how the poor construction workers tasked with getting it up the seventieth floor managed such a feat, but in hindsight it was obvious: the window. It essentially replaced an entire section of the wall and gave him a beautiful view of the city. People looked like ants from up there, busy with their daily schedules, unaware of what went on high above their heads.

Despite it being scarcely furnished, the few choices he’d made gave his office an imposing aura. 

There was a certain feeling of power attached to it, and him by extension.  From up there, Alexander Harris held the world in his hands. And I called him an asshole.