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It couldn’t be all that hard.
Right?
Chapter Two - Tucker
I never did anything by half measures. My mother always told me if I was going to do something, then do it. If not right, then at least all the way.
As a result, I always finished what I started, going to the logical extreme in everything. It could be a bit surprising to people at first, but most of them soon got used to it. My theory was that most people got so caught up in what they thought they were supposed to do that they still tried to do things even when they were impossible, stopping before they were done. But I only focused on things I knew I wanted to do.
Sleep, for example, was a thing to which I was fully dedicated. There were clocks and schedules and all that fancy stuff that people used to give their lives meaning, but none of it meant much in the end. Time itself was a human construct. I preferred to simply exist in whatever state I found myself in.
That morning I was asleep. A state of being from which it would take wild horses to drag me, and not even that would work. Not the alarm or the sensation of the sun shining into my face, nor the kitchen staff marching down the hall right outside my door, as if they were playing racquetball on all sorts of brass instruments, the less musically inclined resigning themselves to banging pots and pans together.
It had been the cook's idea and, as miraculous as she could be with flapjacks, cunning plans were simply not Mrs. Malone’s forte. I still didn’t get up, despite her best intentions to make sure I did.
Rising in my own good time, not even bothering to glance at the bedside clock, I moseyed on over to the bathroom for a cold, refreshing shower before putting in an appearance at work.
I couldn’t have people thinking I employed Ana just so I could have something nice to look at on my breaks. Her curvy body was a plus, but that wasn’t why I’d hired her. She had the most impressive resume out of everyone who applied.
Truth be told, she was overqualified, but I would not let that stand between me and a great assistant. I’d had so few over my career, aside from Shanna, of course, though she was more for the reception desk. I wanted a wonderful assistant all to myself.
I was selfish, for sure, but it wasn’t like Ana wasn’t benefiting from the arrangement. I liked to think of myself as a philanthropist. Even though I wasn’t clear on the meaning of the word until well into high school. Latinate phrasing didn’t come up a lot in advanced math.
Freshly showered and smelling of lavender, it was time to select my outfit for the day, a process made easier by the fact that I wore one of the same dove gray two-piece suits every day. The primary difference between them was the color of the pocket-square, tucked, just so, into the front pocket.
And I wore a clashing tie, of course. I would only need an umbrella and a bowler hat at a jaunty angle to complete the look. I let my employees dress casually while I went all out.
Dressed to the nines, I ventured down the twisting stairs to the main floor and, more importantly, the dining room, where my breakfast sat cooling on the table.
It struck most folks as odd that a tech leader would choose to dress in the manner of a Victorian Chap, but I liked fashion and took it to the nth degree by focusing on the time when male fashion was at its peak of elegance, without veering over into the realm of the silly. Or at least I tried not to.
I ate slowly, as it was better for the digestion. Therefore, my pace reached the level of the leisurely. I was the boss, after all. If I couldn’t go in late on occasion, what was the point of all the power?
It wasn’t as though the place was going to fall like a house of cards from a worn-out deck if I showed up late, or indeed not at all. The structure was set up to avoid any such eventuality. Besides which, Jack was a clock-slave if there ever was one and would keep things going in my absence.
Taking time to wash the dishes, which I honestly found relaxing, I left them to dry before jaunting out to the garage. The Aston Martin purred to wakefulness. If I was lucky, I would be so late I was early, most of the clock slaves just getting to work due to having to sit in rush hour traffic.
I checked my Rolex and confirmed that I should indeed be free and clear, as I drove on roads as empty as a zombie apocalypse.
