The Boss by Abigail Barnette Read Free Book Online Page B

child from a previous relationship. My wife and I
have only been married for two years."
    I let out a relieved breath. I would never
want to help someone hurt another person that way. Even though it
would have been far shittier on his part to have committed the
adultery, I would have felt illogically culpable for unwittingly
helping him. I was relieved to know he’d been a free agent at the
time of our tryst.
    Now there was just the problem of the
bombshell that had exploded between us. We sat in silence for a
bit, thinking our private, horrified thoughts. So, Neil was a
father. Of a woman my age. Oh no. He'd spanked me. That
suddenly seemed more creepy than hot. I downed the rest of my
water, and eyed my coffee resentfully. I should have ordered wine.
Or hard liquor.
    It was clear that neither of us were
comfortable with this new development. I didn’t bother to retract
my suggestion of a casual fling. It seemed to be a given that it
would just not work out.
    At least I was getting a promotion. And I
bet, after today, Neil would avoid me like the plague, so there
wouldn't be any future awkwardness between us.
    I tried to find a natural path out of the
conversation, and settled on, "So, do you have any other...
kids?"
    "No. I'd always planned to, but the timing
was never right. And now, with one child who is an adult, I feel as
though those days are behind me." He leaned back in his chair.
"This is quite a mess we've found ourselves in, isn’t it?"
    I shrugged.
    "I do hope you'll consider the position with
the beauty department, in spite of all this," he added. I had no
reason to doubt his sincerity. I couldn't imagine what he would
possibly gain from keeping me at the magazine if he didn't want me
there.
    "I will." It was a great opportunity, though
I had never really imagined I would end up working in the beauty
department. I'd been strictly focused on clothing. Still, it was
better than job hunting, and he was right, it would be too weird to
stay on as his assistant.
    Neil and I made small talk as we waited for
our food. With our past out in the open between us, I had expected
lunch to be interminable. After all, I couldn't run out screaming
if I wanted that job, but with our one-night-only affair rekindled
for five minutes to die a painfully embarrassing death, it was
almost asking too much of myself to sit there and eat with him.
    To my surprise, I found myself relaxing,
enjoying myself even, as he told me about his interest in the
magazine and some small changes he expected in the future. He asked
me about NYU, and why I had focused on fashion, and it seemed like
the hour we spent eating and chatting passed slightly too fast.
    Neil picked up the check, "As your boss," he
clarified after handing his black credit card over to the waitress.
"Not as a former lover."
    I laughed. "You know, if you're going to be
my boss, you're going to have to stop bringing that up."
    "I've thought of that, believe me." He
smiled, and took a last sip of coffee. "Henceforth, we won't
mention it again."
    The car was waiting for us when we left the
restaurant. As we pulled away, I asked, "So, this beauty editor
job. If I did decide to take it, when would it start?"
    He considered a moment. "I might need you to
train your replacement, but I don't see why you couldn't start on
the February issue."
    I mulled that over. Porteras worked on
a ten week schedule. The February issue would hit the stands the
first Monday in January, which meant the content collection process
would begin in a week.
    "Take as much time as you need to decide," he
said, as if he'd read my thoughts. "That's only an estimate."
    We rode in silence for a few blocks. Then,
apologetically, he said, "I'm sorry; I promise this is the last
time I'll bring it up. But I have to know... did you ever try to
contact me during those six years? I’ll admit; I didn't try to find
you. I didn't know how you would react. Every time I thought I
might look you up, I realized I didn't have