Page 6 of My Boss

“Does she have four legs and beige upholstery?” Jan folds his arms across his chest, staring at me accusingly.

Umm… I swallow a glob of saliva.

“I don’t think I understand.”

“I think you understand perfectly. And I do not tolerate lying. If you want to take care of personal matters, then do it after work. Besides, Pilsudskiego is under construction. You won’t get there in thirty minutes.”

I’m at a loss for words. Engler must have stood behind me long enough to figure out the situation. I feel stupid, but someinner stirring revolt doesn’t let me know I’m on the losing end. I choose to attack to defend myself.

“Were you eavesdropping?”

“I didn’t have to. You spoke so loudly that the whole room heard you.”

Instinctively, I tear my gaze away from him and look around the office. The employees momentarily lower their eyes to their laptops, pretend to look at the window, admire the lighting, the white walls.

I rub my forehead with my hand. I am in a real shithole. Not only am I going to lose the chair of my dreams, but I’ve also exposed myself to my boss by lying my ass off. And this is in front of half the department. Not good. The only sensible thing to do is to apologize, sit on my ass and return humbly to my desk job. But at the very thought of passing up the chance to gain a beautiful wing armchair, I want to howl. And since howling in front of Jan means the same thing as packing up my things and saying goodbye to my well-paid job, I choose a different tactic.

I smile as nicely as I can and speak in a fake voice:

“Just for an hour, boss.” I make sheep’s eyes at him. “This is really important.”

“This?” His cool gaze sweeps all over me.

“This chair. I do furniture restoration as a hobby, and this wonder is just begging to be restored. Can I leave? I’ll be back before you know it.”

Jan takes a hard look at me. He is silent. I search for any sign of understanding on his face… And just when I think I see a glimmer of favor in his steel eyes, his cell phone rings. He frowns and shakes his head.

“Please go back to work.” His answer is dispassionate.

He turns around, takes the phone out of his pocket and answers it, walking away toward his office.

Unfuckingbelievable! Oh, no. I’ll not let go so easily.

“But Mr. Engler… ” I’m following him, actually running, because the dickhead has legs as long as stilts. I know it’s impolite to interrupt a phone call, but I’m secretly hoping that he will agree to my request, just to get rid of me. “Please wait… ” I pass him and stop, blocking his way.

Jan pauses. He wrinkles his forehead, then shifts his gaze over me as if I had just dropped the balance sheet of our most important customer into a pile of cow dung.

“I’ll call you right back,” he says into the receiver, hangs up and puts the phone in his pants pocket.

“Can you really not let me go even for a little while? After all, I stay after hours each day anyway…”

I’m answered by silence. A bloody deafening silence. It’s so penetrating, rumbling that it’s about to bust my eardrums. Only the silence of someone like Jan can drown it out. I don’t need a third eye in the back of my head to figure out that everyone’s gaze is now on us. I get the impression the space-time continuum has frozen in a motionless vacuum.

Jan looks straight into my eyes. Piercingly, paralyzingly, penetratingly. I can’t read any emotion from the expression on his face, although the throbbing vein on his neck just above the collar of his snow-white shirt is unlikely to bode well. I can feel a drop of sweat running down my back. Shit, I guess this idea of interrupting his conversation wasn’t as brilliant as I thought, after all. I nervously adjust the strap of the bag on my shoulder. I’m getting hotter and hotter. I must finally speak up because this silence, combined with the icy gaze of the Night King fromGame of Thrones,isabout to kill me.

“Why don’t you say anything?”

Jan squints his eyes and, still looking at me, adjusts his tie (it’s probably some kind of compulsion because he does it about two hundred times a day).

“I am thinking.”

OMG! So there is some chance after all. Bravo, Maria. You see, he who doesn’t risk doesn’t drink…

“Find Spendimex’s reports from the last merger. They didn’t declare their intention to merge, and they’re facing an inspection from the Office of Competition and Consumer Protection. I have to have them in an hour,” he adds coolly, after which he simply bypasses me.

What a cold bastard!

I boil all over. I’m about to tell him what I think of him. Seriously. Here. Now. In front of everyone. Without considering the consequences.

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