Page 1 of The Boss

1. Chris

There’s a specific type of nausea that comes with new beginnings. It sits low in your gut, somewhere between excitement and fear, and churns like a centrifuge. I’d felt it before—the first day of freshman wrestling practice, the morning of my final exams at Gettysburg College, and now, pulling into the parking lot of Nova Systems, Inc. The building loomed ahead, all mirrored windows and sharp lines, like a steel-and-glass monolith in the heart of Providence, Rhode Island, my new home. It was a corporate fortress like a million others across the country, but the thrill of breaking into the professional world made it feel special.

As I stepped out of my car, the early fall breeze swirling around me, I caught my reflection in the glass and gave my hair a quick fix. Adjusting my tie for the hundredth time, I wished I’d thought to size up my wardrobe. My white dress shirt and beige chinos fit fine only a year ago, but college wrestling had a way of transforming ‘fit’ into ‘painted on.’

Not much I could do about it now—I just hoped nobody would notice. Starting a new job meant dressing the part, even if my lucky jockstrap was cutting into my gluteal folds under these stupid trousers. Lucky or not, it wasn’t exactly comfortable, but superstitions die hard. Especially ones that made me win the NCAA Northeast Wrestling Regional Championship. Hey, everyone needs their talismans sometimes.

My phone buzzed inside my pocket and I swiftly pulled it out. It was my buddy Tyler.

‘Good luck on your initiation into the capitalist grind, C-man,’ the message read. ‘Break a leg or something.’

For a moment, I was tempted to respond with something flirty, like I always used to before. But then I remembered thatTyler now had a boyfriend—his ex-coach. He was happily in love, now a senior at Williams College, and I was happy for him. We had become really good friends over the past year, and it was sweet of him to offer support. So, I simply typed, ‘Thanks, T-bag. I’ll let you know if I shit my pants.’

His reply was instant: three flexed biceps emojis.

Stuffing my phone back inside my pocket, I took a deep breath and walked into the building.

Inside, the lobby was a cathedral of corporate ambition. The ceiling stretched high, the sleek light fixtures looking like modern art installations. The receptionist’s desk, a sculpted slab of marble, gleamed brightly, and on the wall behind it, a massive logo spelled out Nova Systems in brushed steel letters. The air was warm yet crisp, laced with the faint aroma of fresh coffee and expensive cologne.

“Excuse me,” I said to the receptionist/security guard, a bald, serious-looking man in a dark blue suit. “I’m starting today and I’m not really sure where I’m supposed to go.”

He gave me a once-over, then returned his gaze to his computer. “Position?”

“Excuse me?”

“What position are you starting?”

“Oh. Software engineer.”

“Ninth floor.”

“Thanks.”

I went to the elevators trying not to look like a lost kid, the suit squeezing my body with every step. Several people gathered while I waited, and all of us entered the elevator together. One by one they dispersed, leaving on their floors, until I was alone again. I used the chance to check myself in the large mirror and adjust my tie one more time. My pants were too fucking tight—so tight I might as well have been wearing my wrestling singlet. On the plus side, my ass looked amazing, the thin fabrichugging my glutes like a second skin. Let’s just hope my new coworkers appreciate the view rather than report me to HR for inappropriate dress code—at least until I get the chance to update my office attire.

At last, the number nine appeared above the door and I stepped out into a large, open-plan office filled with dozens of desks and people. Everything gleamed, from the huge wall-to-wall windows to the bright glass partitions separating workstations. The floor was carpeted in a neutral shade of gray, and several strategically placed plants jazzed up the space. It felt so different from the old-school campus vibe I’d left behind that for a moment I stood paralyzed.

“Christopher Landry?”

The voice snapped me out of my awestruck daze. Turning, I saw a woman striding toward me, a clipboard in one hand and a wide, welcoming smile on her face. She was maybe in her mid-thirties, her dark brown hair swept into a sleek bun, and her tailored blazer screaming efficiency.

“Yes, that’s me,” I said, reaching for my tie again before I stopped myself.

“I’m Alicia. Office manager, onboarding specialist, and resident problem solver. Welcome to Nova Systems,” she said, extending a hand.

“Thank you. I’m excited to be here,” I said, shaking her hand and hoping my voice didn’t betray how overwhelmed I felt.

“Good energy. We like that,” she said with a grin. “Come on, let’s get you settled.”

She led me through a maze of glass-walled conference rooms and rows of sleek desks, each one outfitted with dual monitors and an ergonomic chair. People moved with purpose, their conversations low and clipped, punctuated by the occasional burst of laughter. Alicia narrated as we walked, pointing outbreak rooms, meeting spaces, and the all-important coffee machines, her tone light but practiced.

“So, Nova Systems specializes in software solutions for logistics and supply chain management,” she explained. “Perhaps not the sexiest industry, but we make it work. We have offices in Toronto and London, but our headquarters are here, in Providence. We’re big on collaboration here, so don’t be afraid to ask questions or pitch ideas.”

“Got it.” I nodded, trying to absorb everything and suppress the feeling that I was in way over my head. “And what’s the vibe like? I mean, the workplace culture?”

Alicia smiled. “Good question. We’re a mix of buttoned-up professionalism and laid-back camaraderie. We employ promising candidates like yourself soon after they graduate and offer them a chance to hone their skills and advance through the ranks. Many of them stay with us for their entire careers. That’s why our workforce is filled with people of all ages, from mid-twenties upward. Mr. Steele sets the tone from the top—he’s the CEO and our boss. He founded the company fifteen years ago as a small start-up and transformed it into a multi-million-dollar business.”

“Wow,” I said, stopping myself from giving a whistle at the last second. “Respect.”

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