Undeniably Yours - Jerry Cole Page 0,1
office space without disturbing my private life at all.
Marcelo is waiting for me when I arrive. He has that look on his face that tells me he has something to say and I’m probably not going to want to hear it.
“You’re lucky you’re so good looking, or I wouldn’t be able to stand seeing your sour puss every time something goes wrong,” I say. Instead of frowning his face seems to brighten, as if I’d just played right into a trap that was moments away from springing.
“Well, then this is your lucky day.”
The next few moments feel like they happened in slow motion, though I know that’s impossible. He moves from his spot, shoulders squared, and relaxed in that damned blue suit that makes him look like a Latino Clark Kent. His gaze is steady behind those square black-rimmed glasses. He’s made up his mind about whatever he is going to do next. Nothing about him leaves any room for negotiation. I can tell. I’ve been in enough trouble and negotiated my way out of enough tight spots to know when I am up against an immovable force.
As he takes the last step toward me, he reaches into the inside pocket of his jacket and produces a piece of paper. He holds it out for me and I take it instinctively, without looking at it. He doesn’t say anything, he just waits for me to look at it with a tiny flicker of a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. I can tell by the quality of the paper that this is an important moment for us both. It’s heavy and soft, like the silk and cotton blended paper they use to print wedding invites and birth notices.
I look down and unfold the paper.
“Letter of resignation,” he says, sparing me the effort of reading the whole thing. I skim it quickly. It’s dated for today and informs me “regretfully” that he will be leaving me in two weeks. At the bottom is his signature in blue, iridescent ink. A nice touch. Almost as impressive as the embossed letterhead that he used when he wrote this abomination.
“Absolutely not!” I crumple the letter up and throw it in the wastebasket. “Where in the hell do you think you’re going, anyway?”
“I’ve already submitted my paperwork to HR, sir.”
“Sir?” I feel like he’s just thrown a bucket of ice-water in my face. Marcelo is one of the few men in the world who can make a term of respect feel like a slur. Just watching him pucker his lips to call me sir makes my skin crawl.
“I am sorry, but I have made my final decision.”
“I hope you don’t expect to get a reference from me,” I say.
“I don’t.”
“Have you secured another position? Is that it? Has Waterson poached you for that conglomerate of monkeys he’s got over there?”
Marcelo actually smiles and shakes his head.
“No, sir,” he crosses his arms in front of himself like the mother of a toddler, patiently waiting for her kid to stop throwing a fit before she continues with her shopping.
“Then WHY?” I sound desperate because I AM. Before hiring him seven years ago, I went through a mountain of personal assistants. Each one was a little more fucked up than the last. When I decided to take a chance on an earnest, dedicated guy with more charm than qualifications, it was as if the Fates finally smiled down on me. He didn’t have a lot of fancy degrees or impeccable references but he was organized, efficient, creative, professional, sexy, charming, and had a knack for curbing my darker impulses.
“I’ll double your pay.”
He shook his head.
“You don’t have enough money to make me stay,” he said softly as if it was simply a fact instead of an insult.
“How do you know?”
“I open your mail and do most of your banking for you.”
He was right. All the more reason why I couldn’t let him go without a fight.
“Come on Marcelo, let’s talk about this like two men,” I sat on the sofa that he’d told me was overpriced but I simply had to have. “What’s this all about?”
“I want to take some time to pursue a few personal projects and find a new direction for my life. I am resigning for a better life.”
“I get that,” I had no idea what he was talking about.
“Do you?”
“Of course I do!” I had no clue.
Marcelo simply sighed; that soft, short exasperated sound he made when he knew I was lying.
“In