Page 23 of My Boss

Jan frowns, looks around the room and meets my latest work with his gaze. He freezes his gaze on it.

“Here?”

“What’s the problem with ‘here’?”

“Do you do furniture restoration in your apartment?” He looks at me, and I see curiosity in his eyes.

“Yes. I can’t afford to rent a studio. But it’s just a matter of time.”

Until I make enough money and get the fuck out of work, as far away from you as possible, I add in my mind, smiling under my breath with satisfaction.

“Do you have any more questions or are you going to use the computer? I want to change.”

Jan looks at me for a moment, then shifts his gaze to the chair and… his face loses all its color.

What is it again?

I follow his gaze and burst out with laughter. For heaven’s sake, it’s just a little dust. I walk over to the chair and start hitting the seat upholstery with my hand.

A cloud of dust rises. Jan’s face—priceless. The poor man is about to go down with a heart attack.

“It’s from sanding,” I explain, holding back a laugh. “It gets a little dusty when I chisel the wood.” You, by the way, would also benefit from such processing, wooden boy. “Well, it’s ready. You can sit down.” I point to the chair and smile kindly.

Jan looks at the seat with eyes that say, “Thank you, I’ll stand,” so I motivate him to sit down with dogged hospitality:

“I understand that you were somewhat disappointed by my housing conditions, and they don’t compare to yours. All the more reason for me to encourage you to be more generous in allocating a discretionary bonus, which will significantly raise my standard of living.”

His gaze pierces my guts. He doesn’t say anything. Not a thing. Not for a solid twenty seconds! He just stands and stares at me. Apparently, instead of Twister-type movement games, he prefers more static ones in the style of ‘who blinks first’. God, his eyes are about to burn a hole in my forehead.

“Have you heard that looking into someone’s eyes for more than ten minutes can trigger hallucinations?”

His response is only a grunt. Jan looks away from me (I won!), then sits down stiffly on the chair and adjusts the laptop monitor to the right angle.

Great. Then work bravely, dear Jan, while I get ready for this afternoon.

“I’ll be back in ten minutes,” I say and walk into the bedroom.

As I announced, ten minutes later I’m spruced up and ready. I walk out of the small room with a bag stuffed to the brim on my shoulder, dressed in a bikini and shorts. I pull back my hair into a comfortable ponytail.

“Are you done?” I ask, seeing that Jan is still sitting in front of the computer.

He lifts his gaze from above the monitor. His eyes widen. He moves his gaze slowly across me… Up. Down. Up again. He stops at my chest, opens his mouth and snaps it closed.

Hahahaha. And there I have you. At a loss for words, huh?

“What are you wearing?” His voice is strangely stifled.

“A Kashubian folk costume. Beautiful, isn’t it?” I’m spinning around.

“This is not a Kashubian folk costume.”

Holy Moley.

“You are insanely perceptive.”

“Maria,” he stammers my name warningly.

“Jan,” I reply, trying to mimic his tone, but I don’t think I’m doing a very good job of it, because Engler is totally blowing it off.

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