I’m back.”
She grins. “Just doing my job.”
“About the new hire, Harley,” I continue, as her grin wavers almost imperceptibly. “Any reason why you had her watch eight hours’ worth of 80s videos for an orientation day we don’t normally have?”
By now, Madeline’s kindly milkmaid features could be carved from stone. “No. No reason. Just thought since she’s so young, going above and beyond as far as training goes wouldn’t be amiss.”
“Right.”
I eye her, trying to decide how to phrase the next part. It was one thing for Landon to claim the ‘whole office’ knows about me and Harley based on some cryptic comments, but Madeline would definitely know if anyone does: she’s the eyes and ears of the place.
“About Ms. Davis…” I continue.
“Don’t worry,” she cuts me off with a crisp red-lipped smile. “I have her cubicle on the opposite side of the floor. Near the coffee machines. Far from yours.” Her chin lifts. “Since Gabriel was so happy to retire, and we have no back-up cinematographers on hand, I’ve also prepared a folder of resumes of potential candidates, if it should come to it.”
If it should come to it. Huh.
Again, that smile annoys me instead of reassuring me like it usually does.
Maybe because, without a single word, Madeline has made herself clear: I know, and I’ve handled it.
Problem is, have I ‘handled it’ on my end?
“It won’t come to that,” I reply. “Ms. Davis is very good at her job.”
“Excellent,” Madeline says. “Better safe than sorry, though. I left the folder on your desk. Is that all?”
“Yes, it is,” I say. “Thanks again.”
And then she’s left, leaving me with my thoughts. There’s still an hour before Harley’s set to arrive. She doesn’t have that much to do here; even Gabriel moaned about the pointlessness of spending time in the office, filming the odd PR short or rewatching his old footage to improve his cinematography. I could easily make an excuse about why Harley would be better off working from home for the time being. Or even taking a break until the next StormTV shooting. It’s not like she didn’t make enough to tide her over for several weeks at least.
Then again, I have to film that announcement today. Ever since we released the statement about Dad’s tax evasion yesterday, online SJWs have been screaming about the need for me to make a public statement myself on where Storm Inc. now stands and our plans for the future. So I will need Harley after all. At least, at 3 PM, when I have my time slot with her booked.
The next few hours, I fritter away. That’s the one thing I can’t get used to about being president: while on paper there’s a lot more you’re supposed to do, in reality, you’re in charge of finding the right people to solve the right problems. Once that’s done, there’s not much more to do, other than answer the odd email, and schedule meetings no one really wants to go to.
I visit Landon to help with the specifics of putting Storm Music on the market, his new job now that he isn’t bogged down with the impossibility of Storm Inc.’s books. I eat lunch in my office. I return calls.
And then, at 3 PM, I go over to Harley’s desk.
“Hey.” She brightens at seeing me.
“Hey,” I say. “You look…” I catch myself just in time to growl, “professional.”
That was close—too close. Telling your employee she looks ‘good’ is a fast track to a harassment suit. Inappropriate.
But she does look good. Hot as hell, in fact. Her pencil skirt shows off her trim middle and generous hips, while the tie of her high-neck, slightly sheer teal blouse is beckoning for me to untie it, rip it off to see what’s underneath.
“Thanks.” If she noticed my almost-slip, she’s giving no sign of it. “You look professional too. Is it time for us to film?”
“According to the schedule,” I say.
“How long do we have?” she asks.
She seems so casual. Isn’t she finding it insanely hard, keeping this space between us that feels intrinsically wrong? All I want to do is take her in my arms and see if she can keep that cool, devil-may-care tone any longer.
“Nothing scheduled after this,” I say, “We can take as long as we need.”
“Oh.” She grins. “Good. Since I’m a perfectionist.”
“You’re going to have your work cut out for you. I’m useless in front of the camera.”
“Don’t worry,” she says easily, “I’m good at coaxing the best out of people.”
I’ll