Hannah, the middle-aged server of the café, placed my regular on the counter with a smile.
"Good morning, Ms. Brooke."
Digging around in my purse for the change, I grumbled, "what's so good about this morning?"
But then, I smiled and rolled my eyes at her to make it sound like a joke. I wasn't joking though. There really was nothing good about this morning.
Even after reminding myself for the thousandth time to not pick my mother's call so early in the day, I had still stupidly answered it before leaving for work.
I inwardly huffed as I placed the money on the counter, my mind still reeling from her very recent rant. I mentally shook my head, refusing to go there and instead, focused my attention on the next thing that was making me feel crabby.
Whole office was excited to meet the new boss. Well, the head of our section, at least. I was less than enthusiastic. Why?
Well for one, I liked my old boss. It was comfortable and coordinated before.
This meant uncertainty, not knowing how to behave, what to expect, what to (and more importantly, not to) say, and surprises. I hated surprises. I was content with the predictability of my work space.
For another, they had hired someone from outside. Couldn't they have promoted someone from within the company? Someone they knew and someone who knew in-and-out of this job? Someone like me, maybe?
I instantly felt guilt and insecurity run through me. My it's-not-fair-to-want-that-position-when-others-have-been-here-longer feelings jumping to why-the-hell-not-though, and again to because-i'm-still-not-good-enough thoughts.
Jeez, all this thinking made my head ache. As I collected my coffee, my mind asked, 'why not though?'
God knew I worked my ass off for this peanuts paying job. With the qualifications I possessed, many didn't understand why I worked where I did. And, especially what I did there.
But that didn't stop them from putting my skills to use beyond the clauses of my job description, of course.
Whenever there was an emergency, Ruth Brooke was asked to take care of it.
Whenever someone got stuck somewhere, Ruth will help, whenever there's no one else to do something then Ruth will get it completed. When someone needs to put in extra time to meet a deadline? Yep, you got it.
But when there's a promotion up for department? Nope. No one even remembered my name. That part annoyed me to the point of triggering my fight or flight - mostly, flight - instinct.
What irked me most was that I didn't understand why I was even having these thoughts. I didn't want the position. If I had, I was more than capable for applying for it.
I had chosen to be the assistant. I had chosen to not put all my education and degrees to work. Vaguely, my mother's words from this morning tried flitting in my mind and I stubbornly pushed it out again.
With my mind on that, and coffee in hand, I crossed the road, walking carefully to avoid slipping over wet concrete. As was it usual for Seattle at this time of the year, the light drizzle earlier in this morning had left the roads wet and slippery, with a promise of a downpour some time today.
Not that I minded it, as long as I was safely tucked inside the office when that happened.
I entered the building, still carefully juggling my bag and the coffee while pushing open the door when something hard and solid ran smack into me.
Ow! Disoriented, I struggled to not lose my footing with difficulty. The impact made black dots dance in front of my vision and I grabbed my head, blinking furiously.
It felt like I got hit by a torpedo!
Not to mention, my brain registered few seconds too late the burn on my skin as my spilled coffee soaked through the front of my off-white dress.
Fucking hell, that'll leave a stain. I felt my anger rise, but before I could get my bearings, the Torpedo was halfway gone.
Without even waiting to access the damage or utter an apology, he made a universal 'excuse me' gesture and moved on in a rush of black blazer and black silk shirt. Jerk.
Holding my wet dress away from my body, I had just made it to the front desk when the receptionist, Ellen Cole, stopped me.
"You have to wait here, Ruth. To give your new boss a tour of the office," flipping her dark hair back, smugly.
Gritting my teeth, I replied, "I know. But first I need to go restroom before-"
"Oh, here he is!" Ellen purred, watching someone behind me, almost hungrily.
Resigning myself to meet the new boss in coffee-stained dress, I turned and came face-to-chest with black silk shirt. And an oddly familiar black blazer.
Narrowing my eyes, I looked at the face of the Torpedo. Dark was the only word I could think to describe him. He had darkest brown hairs, angular features and black eyes. It somehow enhanced his almost salon perfected tanned face. Even though he looked to be about my age, the slight crinkle around his eyes gave him boyish charm.
Not only was my new boss startled to see me, but he had the audacity to look vaguely amused as his gaze swept down my coffee-stained dress.
"You must be Ms. Ruth Brooke. I'm Caleb Cross." He said, in an overtly courteous voice, offering his hand to shake.
"Also known as, your new boss; which you should've cleaned up for before the first meeting, Ruth." Ellen injected with her usually sweet but judgemental voice, fluttering her eyes at us.
I ignored her and his outstretched hand, and focused my stare at Caleb Cross for a clarification, an apology or a small defense at the very least! It was his fault my dress was ruined, after all.
But all Mr. Torpedo said was, "I agree, Ms. Cole. First impressions do go a long way afterall, Ms. Brooke."
The bastard! He was secretly laughing at me! I wasn't sure whether to defend myself or punch this guy in the face.
Before I could decide, Caleb handed his id to Ellen with a smirk, which was what he had forgotten in his car apparently, when he bulldozed over me, and asked me to lead the way for his office tour.
Giving Ellen a stink eye, I stubbornly refused to cleanup and gave him a tour of office in my coffee-stained dress.
Every once in a while I would look at him and find him watching me with barely contained amusement.
I got many critical glances from the people we passed, but I stoically refused to let on how embarrassed I was.
It wasn't my fault that my dress was a mess. They didn't know this, but who cares? I did, and so did the jerk who was internally laughing at me the whole time.
As we reached his cabin, I pasted a smile and said, "HOD meeting in 5 minutes, Sir. Conference room 1."
There, I sounded professional.
"I think I'd like a coffee first." Oh the nerve...
Giving him my most poisonous smile I replied, "Oh, I don't think so, Sir. HOD meeting in 5 minutes. That means you gotta head over there. Right now."
So much for professionalism.
His mouth dropped open. "Are you dismissing me, Ms. Brooke?"
"No Sir, merely pointing out that you need to get going. Now."
Surprised, Caleb turned to conference room and I thought I heard him mutter a "yes ma'am."
Returning to my desk, I opened my email and fired an angry email to my friend Shayari Donovan, recounting everything that just happened with the title, "Boss from hell!"
Within a few minutes of clicking send, my office phone rang with Shayari's name on the caller-id.
"Are you frigging serious?"
"Yes"
"hmm.."
"Hmm? Just hmm? You don't have a great, horrible curse word for him?"
"Not yet. Did you talk to him? Maybe he isn't that bad?"
"Oh please, guys that hot are that bad." I regretted the words as soon as it left my mouth.
"Hot? He's hot?"
"Well.."
"How hot?"
"Shayari, you're missing the point. He's a jerk and-"
"pfft tell me! Oooh, is he hot enough to live up to your hot-boss fantasy?"
"Shy! I don't have a hot boss fantasy. Agree, if you don't wanna be murdered through a landline system. And, I don't think he's hot when I said guys that hot-"
"Right... that makes sense," she snorted.
The shrill sound of a bell ringing filtered throught the phone, making me flinch and Shayari curse.
"Damn, it's time for my lecture. Tell you what, email me his detailed description before he comes back from the meeting. Then I give about 20k curse words that would make him shrivel like a garden weed in winter if he ever heard them."
"I'm not sure..."
"I gotta run. The kids will behave crazier than usual if I don't reach in class on time. Will wait for the email."
With that the line went dead. I still couldn't understand how can someone with so less patience be a high school teacher. Sometimes, I hated the fact that I loved my bff.
10 min later my email was ready, and I had described him from his dark hairs to black shiny shoes and added the tidbit of his I-always-know-something-you-don't smirk. His that smirk.
Just for good measure on letting my friend know how much I hated him, I titled the email "Mr. Torpedo".
I had just found her on my address list, when a voice interrupted me with a "doing something urgent, Ms. Brooke?"
I jumped and looked up at Caleb Cross standing at my desk. Too close to my computer screen.
"N-no.." damn my stammer. Always gives away that I was upto no good. And this newcomer apparently sensed it.
"Really? You looked so absorbed in your screen... wonder what you were typing so furiously.."
He made as if to peak at the screen, and in my haste to remove offending email away, I clicked on the address and pressed send in a nano second.
"Nothing urgent, Sir. What can I do for you?"
Caleb suspiciously eyed me for a second, then asked for a file. "It is just an introductory meeting, so I will be back in 5 minutes. Keep my coffee ready Ms. Brooke. Black, no sugar."
I was so frazzled that I barely nodded before he left and sagged in relief.
When I checked the screen, there was a message pop-up with 'email sent' written on it. Phew, that was close. Damn Shayari for nearly getting me caught.
As the day went on, I slipped into my usual professional self. Caleb spoke less, stared more. It wasn't a creepy stare, in a way.
He just looked like he was trying to reach the bottom of my brain everytime he looked at me. It was unnerving, but I supposed it was just the way he was like. He mostly kept on his that smirk.
At long last, the clock struck 7pm and work was done. As usual, I walked out of the empty office, vaguely noticing the server room's lights were still on.
As I walked to the bus stop, I gazed at the sky, noticing the gathering dark rain clouds. It seemed the rain had managed to hold off throughout the day.
Deep in thought about what to do for dinner tonight, I stood waiting for my usual bus when a black vehicle crawled stop in front of me.
Window rolled down and none other than Caleb Cross poked his head out from the back of his car. "Ms. Brooke, may I drop you somewhere?"
Oh, now he remembers courtesy after embarrassing me in front of almost whole office?
"No thank you, Sir. My bus will be here shortly."
"I insist Ms. Brooke. It's late and about to rain. I blame myself for making you work this late."
"It's my usual timing, Sir. But I appreciate your offer, thanks."
He looked mildly surprised to know I usually worked this late.
Yeah, I put my 110% in my job, torpedo, I exhaustedly thought. When he still insisted and even opened the door for me to climb in, I had no choice but to climb into the back of his car with him following behind.
He didn't talk much, just asked where I lived and told driver my address.
We were nearly at my apartment building when he said, "I think we should swap numbers."
Surprised, I looked at him and he explained, "you're my assistant, Ms. Brooke. I should be able to reach you at all times, right?"
Right. He raised his hand palm up asking for my phone. I hated giving my phone to anyone, but since he was dropping me home and was being decent, I reluctantly handed it over.
He fiddled with it for few minutes then handed it back to me. "There. I've stored my number in there and taken yours."
We reached my building and I got off the car and thanked him for dropping me off, which he replied with another one of his that smiles. I refused to think it was hot.
As he drove off, the sky suddenly opened up and it started raining.
Ducking, I reached my building gate and felt my phone vibrate. Out of habit, I shielded the screen and glanced at it and only to freeze on my spot.
Right in the middle of the downpour.
I had a text message from a certain "Mr. Torpedo" ..
Shivering and shaking myself mentally, I reached my building shade and hastily opened the message, which read, "I don't mind you calling me any kind of missiles off the clock, Ms. Brooke. I hope to live up to one of them, to be honest. But if anyone else calls me any kind of lethal weapon other than you, I'd be pissed."
What the- how did this ... How did he find out?!
A horrible thought came to me. Fumbling, I opened my email app that was synchronized with my work email account.
Holy freaking hell. In my haste to hide my email, I had accidentally sent "Mr. Torpedo" email to @SoftwareHeadCalebCross instead of @ScaredToBeNormal_Shayari that was right above Caleb Cross's address.
I felt cold, not from bring drenched in rain though. I felt hot too, slithering in the depth of my stomach.
Slowly, I made my way to my apartment, many thoughts crossing my mind. Like, how painfully I was going to kill Shayari, and how could I be so stupid to use my work id to send a personal email, and how Caleb now knew I found him hot. Infuriating, but hot.
But above all was the thought that how will I call him Mr. Cross tomorrow instead of Mr. Torpedo with a straight face?