Page 2 of Collin: Episodes 1-3
Which was a lie. He hadn’t had breakfast at all.
Auntie smiled. She looked toward Mr. Reevesworth. “Why don’t I bring out a water and a house blend black coffee with cream on the side along with your order, sir?”
“That sounds lovely, Auntie.”
Mr. Reevesworth steepled his fingers in front of his chest and gazed over them at Collin. “Please do try the coffee. The roaster is a friend of mine, and the tab is on me. I assume you have a lot of questions.”
“Yes, actually. There wasn’t much information in the email.” Collin tried to sit properly, but the seat was very padded. He had to tighten his stomach muscles to stay upright. Or move toward the edge of the seat to get his feet on the floor. He went for that. “I wouldn’t have come if my professor hadn’t assured me the offer was legit. I apologize for taking so long to answer.”
“You did your due diligence, then.”
“As much as I could. You don’t have a lot of public-facing information.”
“Most of the companies I run do, but Reevesworth Industries is mostly a parent company. There’s not much need for forward-facing information.”
Collin smiled a little. “And your employees don’t post Glassdoor reviews.”
Mr. Reevesworth smiled. “They are on LinkedIn, though.”
Collin smiled back. Impasse. But at least there wasn’t nervous wiggling going on like in his last interview when it turned out the man was dealing with a massive allergic reaction to a spider bite and walked out in the middle.
Mr. Reevesworth glanced toward the window. “The position I’m interviewing for is not urgent. I’ll only fill it if I find the right individual. It’s long-term. If successful, you would be working for me directly, full-time after graduation and part-time before that.”
“How often are the people you hire into this role successful?”
“Almost always.” Mr. Reevesworth’s eyes went back to Collin.
His gaze was stunning. Not for any particular physical feature but for the intensity and depth. Heat rushed up Collin’s spine. If this was a date, he’d be in trouble, but fortunately, it was not a date. What he looked like or his experience and ability to please in any sensual manner wasn’t at stake here. He didn’t have to be charming. He simply had to be useful.
And he could be useful. If he only knew what for.
“May I ask what brought me to your attention? Usually there’s a job posting to go off of, but I’m afraid I’m in the dark here.”
“It’s not a normal position, Collin. It’s a mentorship. One that comes with support, a paycheck, and housing. As well as an NDA. And long hours.”
Collin leaned forward in his seat. “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”
Mr. Reevesworth tapped his fingers together, elbows resting on the arms of his chair. “No, I don’t expect you would. Tell me, Collin, have you ever submitted to someone?”
Collin drew back. “Excuse me?” Where did we take a right turn at Albuquerque?
Mr. Reevesworth glanced back over his shoulder at the rest of the café, but there was no one within hearing. Except for Auntie, who was returning with a tray.
She set it down and placed a very small cup on a saucer on Mr. Reevesworth’s side of the low table. Then she put a small bowl of brown sugar cones, each the size of the end of a small finger, near the cup, with a spoon on its own tiny tray. She bustled around to the other side and placed little woven mats down and then served a clear glass of water and a dark clear mug of coffee. Cream and sugar came in their own miniature serveware. Finished, she stepped back, shot Mr. Reevesworth a smile and Collin an assessing look, and then disappeared.
Collin kept a sigh to himself. He poured cream into his coffee. It was Mr. Reevesworth’s turn to speak, after all. Submission. He knew the term. He wasn’t dead. He’d seen porn. Well, a little bit. He didn’t have a lot of time for stuff like that. Submission meant sex. People didn’t submit to others in any other ways these days. It just wasn’t the done thing. Even though there were still some kings and queens in some countries, it wasn’t like any of them had a lot of power. People weren’t swearing fealty and riding off into battle.
But if Mr. Reevesworth was discussing some sort of sexual position, why? The man was out of his league. In every way. From his bespoke black suit and bright Egyptian blue shirt to his age, somewhere north of forty. He was broad-shouldered, flat-stomached, and long-limbed to match his height. Hints of white showed at his temples, but it only accentuated his black hair, combed to the side and perfectly trimmed around the nape of his neck and the curve of his ear. He wore a wedding band on one finger and a small second ring on his other hand.
Mr. Reevesworth stirred one sugar into his coffee and inhaled the smell. “Everyone submits to someone, Collin.”
“I, please forgive me, Mr. Reevesworth, but I am just as lost now as when I arrived. I thought you asked me here for an interview for an internship. Or is this a different kind of interview?”
“This is an interview. What kind of one depends on you.” Mr. Reevesworth took a sip of coffee and set down the cup. “Try to answer the questions. I promise they are going somewhere. Let me rephrase it to help you. Are you aware if you have ever submitted to someone, man, woman, non-gendered, a person, let us say?”
Collin swallowed. He dropped his eyes to the carpet. Shades of brown and tan swirled around each other. Interesting, if necessary. Invisible if one were not paying attention.
“I don’t think you’re talking about handing in homework on time or answering to a boss.”
