THE BOSS

Her beauty was her problem. Always. She got away easily. She gained without effort, received without asking. She was forgiven without having the chance to say sorry. She didn't know what she could not bring down with a smile, what she could not calm by the wink of an eye. She was nature's gift to men, who always found reasons to flock around her, and a reminder of what one can never be to women who envied her.

Was she blessed? Yes, but it also trapped her soul. The soul stayed asleep as the beauty had taken all care of-nothing that the soul must do, no struggle to enrich an experience, no battle to win and thus never a sense of achievement. Every time the soul tried to wake up, it was told it was not the time yet, and to go back to sleep. Eventually, she would be washed ashore, pushed to the shallow water before dying on the sand, an ornament to the white beach, a reminder of what once had been.

But before it happened, she was saved.

The Boss puffed his cigar more slowly. His face was taut, and his brows pulled closer together. He stared at the youthful face in front of him. She was beautiful, but it wasn't that which he scrutinized; he was assessing if she was telling him the truth or trying to negotiate with it. He was watching her spirit, hoping it would struggle to stay in the depth despite the pressure, not relent and resurface to float meaninglessly.

The girl's hands rested on her lap, trembling, and her full lips shut tight. She was about to open her mouth as her heart was ready to outpour. She wanted to let him know of everything, yet she knew better. She stayed in the depth.

"So you still cannot get them to validate our invoice?" He asked. His tone was forgiving. Nevertheless, she felt judged. She could not pinpoint how or where in the conversation, but she could sense he patronized her. That she didn't mind. She trusted him. His disappointment, however, was another matter.

"Five hundred thousand dollars?" She remembered her excitement when The Boss told her she could handle the collection of the last payment for the three-million-dollar project. "You would trust me with that? I mean, I wasn't involved from the start," she said, just to hear her boss reiterate saying he trusted her. Although she knew that he must've put safety nets around her-she was still learning.

Now she had disappointed him. "They said we haven't completed all the deliverables yet," she said as the two of them sat in the outside dining area of Le Fonte, a chic coffee shop/restaurant in the building complex where several of their clients' offices were. She had just come out from a meeting with Doxxan Inc. to discuss payment.

He said nothing. It seemed his cigar was the only thing that received his attention. No reaction. She knew she had not done well this time, but she didn't know how she should admit to this-or get out from it. She fidgeted before resigning to a point of asking for his advice.

"I must agree with them we can't produce the invoice yet ... is that right?" Her words lingered. He remained silent. He wasn't even looking at her anymore. One more wrong sentence, she feared he would get up and leave.

Smiling or winking her eye would never occur to her as a means to get away from any problem with him. From the most alluring things to people, her superficial charms became the silliest display to ease him up. She had to toughen up and address the consequences if she wanted him to consider her at all. She had always failed to do this in his presence.

"What do I have to do?" She asked. She looked at him and let him feel her vulnerability, her eyes imploring. It was her natural defense mechanism-exposing charming helplessness when in danger-all done subconsciously. But consciously she thought she was defenseless against him, and believed there was no point of being defensive if she trusted him. Being dutiful was the stance she would take, and from there, things would get better-that was her thought and choice to get out from the situation.

He turned his head to face her, and said-not the least sympathetic,

"I sent you there to get paid. Instead, you come back to me agreeing with them." He gazed at her, took in her absolute silence-then continued, "Now you ask me what you have to do. What can you do?"

He chose and spoke his words carefully now, almost sounding compassionate. Anyone overhearing their conversation and was not familiar with him would think he was cajoling her. To see tears welling up in her big eyes would be baffling. And she knew what it meant when his tone turned softer and calmer, when his words were spaced a little further apart. He handed her his handkerchief.

"Wipe off your tears," he said.

She took the handkerchief and did as told.

I should not break, I would not break.

"I probably should check again with the team," she said, looking at him. Still, his face was void of expression, and his mouth seemed reluctant to let go of the cigar, hence not a word.

She had been with him for three years now. In her late twenties, she was the youngest Vice President in his company. She started as an assistant to one of the senior VPs in The Boss' company, Abalido & Quinaeros Inc. After only a month into the job The Boss spotted and took her as his assistant. Under his wing, she was exposed to people many levels above her experience. Acquiring know-how on steroids, faking a lot while trying to make it. The three years spent with her boss made up for all the years she had wasted-years with little direction and no ambition.

The Boss saw her innate ability to appreciate shades of grey; her emotional intelligence to handle difficult people and people from different levels and backgrounds. He recognized such inbred competence was invaluable in a company with 180 consultants-all thinking the world belonged to them-and whose bread and butter was advising people who paid for but rejected advice.

Throughout those years by his side, she then understood what his silence meant. She reached for her phone and started dialing.

She spoke to their program manager for the account, who assertively assured her they had completed the work and the documentation was in order. She asked for him to meet her at Le Fonte in an hour. "Just be here, please," she said with a firm tone, to shoot down his resistance to leave for Le Fonte.

She then dialed a second number. She talked with the client briefly, convincing him to meet yet again for the second time within three hours.

The Boss was watching her. He liked what he saw. He picked up his phone and started texting. He was satisfied when an immediate reply came through. He began to watch her again.

She made the third and final call. With her slight flirtation, the man on the other line, too, agreed to join the meeting.

The Boss slowly took the cigar out of his mouth. His lips formed a small smile. "Very good," was all he said, and that was enough for her.

"I'll get us our drinks," she said, relaxing a little. She stood up from her seat, the fine material of her trousers stretched over her pert derrière. She entered the indoor dining area, and walked past several tables to the counter. Dressed in long black pants, a white sleeveless blouse, and a pair of stilettos, she looked sophisticated. She ordered their drinks from the counter and produced her corporate card at the cashier. "Keep the tab open, Mary," she told the cashier.

"Sure, Gina, and we'll bring them to you. The usual table, right?" Mary said. Gina nodded and smiled while she thanked her. She walked back outside. She could feel many eyes darting glances her way. She was indifferent to them.

At 11:30 am, Dungi, the program manager, arrived. He was a balding man in his late forties, stodgy, dressed well, and was always bathed in cologne. He greeted The Boss with a slight bow and when acknowledged by a slight nod of the great man's head, he seated himself-across the Boss and next to her.

Not long afterward and probably because he was bothered by Dungi's presence, The Boss made a slight gesture to her. She looked directly at her chief and nodded almost imperceptibly. As they rose, she said to Dungi, "I'll be back in a moment," then she escorted the suited figure to his black Lincoln town car. When he was about to enter the car, she asked,

"Shall I meet you again to report the outcome of this meeting?"

"No need. Just update me through a call," he said, then he was gone.

She felt a slight disappointment as she walked back to the table. She seated herself across from Dungi and didn't bother to ask if he wanted to order a drink. Soon the client will be here, she thought, Dungi can wait till then. She asked Dungi to give her a thorough update on the project while waiting for the client, but her mind was elsewhere.

The warm rays of the sun helped to fend off the occasional chill the blow of the wind carried. A little surprised at the appearance of the sun, she welcomed and enjoyed the mix of warmth and chill on her bare arms. Then it was obstructed, a shadow fell onto her and blocked the warmth. She looked up at the towering figure blocking her sun.

"Hi Gina, it's been some time since I saw you last, hm? That doesn't bode well for business," Roy said, winking his eye as he came toward her and shook her hand.

Gina was glad she could get Doxxan's VP of Finance to the table on short notice. And not only that, he was also a sight-an athletic, rather vain, good-looking man in his mid-thirties. At 6'1, he was four inches taller than Gina.

He came with an entourage; with him were his accounting manager and the user representative of the project that Gina's company worked on. Except for Roy, these were the same people she had met with earlier in the day. Roy didn't specifically acknowledge Dungi's presence-other than a nod toward him. Roy had never met Dungi but the other two men knew Dungi well from the project.

After some pleasantries, Gina asked a server to move them to a bigger table. Once all were seated, Gina began by telling them how sorry she was for not being better prepared earlier and having to ask for another meeting so soon after. The work was indeed completed, she said while signaling Dungi to produce the proof of completion. The user representative examined the piece of paper Dungi laid on the table. It looked proper, he concluded approvingly.

"So, why didn't we accept her invoice?" Roy asked his Accounting manager, with a raised tone.

Yes, why? The Accounting manager had not known that his boss would join the meeting. He wasn't prepared to answer his question, especially when the real reason for it was superfluous: He had just wanted to see more of Gina. He knew if he created some kind of artificial difficulty, and held out long enough it would eventually reach Gina. It was a foolish and immature thing to do but a meeting with Gina was well worth it. As a result of his tomfoolery, Gina had asked to meet him twice within a week. And for that, he was now in trouble. He could either own the improper conduct or admit incompetence.

"I must have overlooked the acceptance certificate. My bad. Please resubmit your invoice and I will process it right away. I'm sorry Gina," he said-straight admission, no buts, no ifs.

Gina nodded sympathetically, assuring him it was no big matter. He was relieved. And Roy? Roy had pulled his weight, it worked and he felt good. He looked at Gina watching for a sign of gratitude, but Gina was already thinking of how pleased the Boss would be upon hearing this.

All was fine and dandy. Everyone relaxed, everyone but one. Dungi still didn't understand how Gina could get away with it so easily-at least that was how it appeared to him. Dungi couldn't believe that Gina had met with the client without the slightest preparation. If she had brought the document to her meeting earlier, I wouldn't have to come all the way here. Who does she think she is? Does the Boss know this? Dungi thought grudgingly.

But people like Dungi would never understand office politics. It was beyond his paygrade. He would never understand how little could be big and big could turn little. One thing Dungi knew, however, was how to be safe. He should not venture out of his designated zone; he dared not show any attitude. Moreover, Gina could get feisty and was two levels his senior. The Boss loved her while he was a nobody to the Boss. There was no enticement for Dungi to do anything but sit and obey.

In those five minutes, Gina resolved the issue, and she felt redeemed. She spoke no more business throughout lunch, and talked mostly with Roy-leaving the three underlings scrambling to find words to say to each other while waiting for their sumptuous lunch to be served.

She was relieved she did not immediately disclose to the Boss she had committed the foolish mistake of not being well-prepared for the meeting. She suspected telling him the whole truth would be seen as shying away from consequences, and he would not have appreciated it. He would not see it as an attempt at honesty, he would see it as complacency followed by weakness.

"Thanks, Dungi. Sorry for the trouble," she said to Dungi with a smile after the clients left. She is truly beautiful, Dungi thought.

Gina took an elevator down to the basement parking lot. Her car was parked conveniently in front of the elevator vestibule. The scent inside her car was of her perfume. The interior was neat and organized. Her mind, however, was filled with one thing. As she was driving her car out of the basement parking lot, she spoke to her phone. "Siri, call my boss please." Three rings and his deep voice greeted her.

"Hi, Gina. How did it go?" The Boss asked.

"Good. Very good. Where are you?"

"Home."

Gina placed herself in his spacious, high-floor penthouse right-smack downtown, almost equidistant to all their clients' work premises. She could picture her boss' erect posture, overlooking the bustling streets from his glass wall and talking with her while holding a glass of scotch and a cigar between his fingers. She could hear Buddy Guy's guitar wailing in the background as she stood behind him, looking at the same streets he was looking at.

She had been to his building many times but had never been in his apartment.

"Do you feel like having a drink nearby your place?"

There was a slight pause, then,

"Not really. Did it truly go well?"

"Yes," she said.

He sensed her disheartened voice. He reconsidered, then decided he shouldn't.

Driving out of the parking lot, she almost hit a pedestrian. A little stunned, she stopped by the side of the road while continuing her conversation with the Boss.

He offered an alternative. Breakfast at 8:30 at Eggs & Flowers, a posh restaurant on the top floor of his apartment building.

"I can do 8 am if that's ok with you. I have a weekly meeting with the team at 9:30 am."

"On a Saturday?"

"Well, it was supposed to be on Thursday, but then we were all tied up with meetings. So we moved it to the only day that we are all available for this week."

She just wanted to be at the breakfast sooner, to have more time with him. The Saturday meeting she mentioned was not completely untrue, but it was not of any real importance. Besides people would find sound reasons to avoid working on weekends, which was a healthy behavior, so she half expected them to cancel anyway.

The Boss was looking forward to seeing her at breakfast the next morning.

"See you tomorrow," Gina said.

Just as she was about to hang up, he called her name.

"Yes?"

Good job, he said. Gina pictured his satisfied smile.

"Thank you." She felt light and smiled to herself.

Still smiling, she put her phone down and continued driving onto the main road. She took her sunglasses from the visor. The glare from the asphalt disappeared and turned into the pretty hues of the rainbow. Her phone rang. It was Roy. He asked her, prudently, if he could meet her after office hours for a drink. His manner was so sweet. She said yes.

The face of her boss flashed in her mind. Don't blame me, she thought, for no apparent reason. And she put her stilettoed foot on the gas.

Still four hours until her meeting with Roy that evening. She called her assistant and asked if there was anything for her while she was out. Nothing, the assistant said. And what about the rest of my afternoon, she asked again. Still nothing. She was free for the rest of day except for her meeting with Roy later. It was Friday already. Time flies, she thought.

She called Rhonda. It rang until the line went dead. Well, gym it is then. There was a gym near Roy's building that she was a member of. She turned back and parked at the same building in the same spot next to the elevators. From the gym, she could walk to where she was meeting Roy.

Only a few people were trying to keep healthy today. The gym was vast and empty. It was a nice walk toward the cardio section. Her long legs helped her climb onto the bike with little effort. She set it up for twenty minutes.

As she pedaled the stationary bike, she recalled the promotion she got a year ago; from the Boss' executive assistant to a VP. Now she realized the exhilaration of being an independent business manager was accompanied by a feeling of loss, akin to entering adulthood and leaving the patronage of loving parents. She didn't need to be by her boss all the time now, she was on her own, on the road alone, moving from meeting to meeting, visiting clients under her care.

A man stepped onto the bike next to her and tried to strike a conversation. She smiled and pointed at the earbuds in her ears without trying to take them off. He seemed to mouth something like "I'm sorry". She smiled at him, and continued with her thoughts.

Yes, why do I continue doing this alone? She mused, as several other VPs in her company who had the same role-with different clients-had all suggested she brought along one of her managers to assist her with meeting the clients.

I can see if they think it's strange, not customary, but I can always call them to a meeting, can I not? Indeed, she could. She could call them to join her wherever and whenever she needed them, like what she did with Dungi that morning.

Yet, she preferred to surf the streets alone, and pretended that her boss was still with her, as if her days of always being with him had never ended.

"But you like your new role, don't you? C'mon, what's not to like? More pay, cool title," Rhonda said when she told her of the mixed feelings she had for the development in her life. Yes, and not only that, the company threw in new perks: a new car, club memberships, more vacation days-though the latter was not much of an incentive for her-she felt she had indulged in too much 'vacation' during her recent past. The salary wasn't up by much. She had already been paid highly even without the promotion. The Boss had used his privilege to pay her a high salary as his executive assistant-which amount didn't adhere to the company's HR standards.

She sniffed something. She almost raised her hand to cover her nose when she realized it would be offensive. The man pedaling next to her, who had previously tried to initiate a small talk with her, was emitting some odor. Ew. She got off the bike and walked to the other side of the room. Leg press, let's do that. She started straining the muscles of her thighs and calves. From the distance, she saw the man on the bike was discreetly trying to look for her, but as she was behind him, he would have had to turn his whole body around to spot her. She was sure he knew better than to do that; it would have been too obvious, and he was not bad-looking, he had to have some pride.

Her mind went back to the conversation she had with her friend.

"Do you like it? Is it hard?" Rhonda asked.

"Hard?" Gina whispered. She wasn't sure what her friend meant by hard when she told her of her boss.

Rhonda rolled her eyes. "Your new role."

"Oh, that." Gina's cheeks turned pink.

She liked her new role, though it was not really new to her. She had been carrying the same responsibilities in her first two years on the job, but always as the direct extension of the Boss. He would always be with her, ready to catch her if she fell, but otherwise, let her carry the responsibilities as if she had already been in the position she was today.

The title and all the weight it carried didn't do much to boost her confidence at work. On the contrary, she felt she had to be less daring. She second-guessed herself more than she did in her first years, despite the unchanged nature of the job. Something was amiss. She just wasn't sure what.

The man finally spotted her and walked over to where the treadmills were. He got on the treadmill directly facing her. Cardio after cardio? Humph. Leave me alone, please. Or, maybe she should leave him alone. That she did. One last press, then she stood up and left for the shower. Feeling fresh and invigorated, she walked out of the gym with a glowing face.

While walking toward the meeting point, Rhonda called.

"You called me babe? I was in a meeting. Hey, the guys from work would like to take us out tonight and they asked me to bring you along. Can you?"

"Oh, sorry Rhonda, I can't. I'm still working," she said.

"Where are you?"

"On my way to Prodallos."

"Hey! That ain't work! You're going to have fun. Cancel it. Go with us."

"This is work. I'm meeting a client ... At a fun place!" she chuckled, "But still, meeting a client. So, it is work," she continued, still chuckling. She could just imagine Rhonda grimacing; envying her position which enabled her to mix powerful business with serious fun.