Page 35 of Lying to the Boss

Chapter Thirteen

Lane

Lately, my Friday afternoons are lighter. I think it’s Tage’s doing. He’s somehow reworking my schedule to allow me less to do at the end of the week. Maybe it’s a gift to me. Maybe it’s a gift to himself, since he is always by my side. Either way, I don’t hate it. Everything still gets done, and the beginning of my week doesn’t feel cramped or rushed.

It’s been a good week. He’s gone out to lunch with me every day without an argument. Each day, the conversation has grown in depth, and he’s even started talking more about himself instead of just listening to me ramble. He doesn’t give away much—if anything—but it’s nice hearing him talk, regardless. We’re growing closer. Not dramatically, but slowly.

Tage doesn’t talk about his friends or family, nor does he ask about mine, which tells me the topic is off the board and not an option. That’s okay. We don’t have to get that deep yet.

A bang from the other side of my door catches my attention, and I get up to check on Tage and make sure he hasn’t fallen over or is in need of help.

I pause with my hand on the doorknob when I hear his voice.

“This is the third time I’ve called,” he growls quietly. “I don’t understand what the problem is.”

My feet stay rooted to the spot as I lean in closer to hear what he’s saying.

“Yes, I know that, but they didn’t fix it. It’s running all the time now. They made it worse! Sometimes it screeches and wakes me up in the middle of the night.”

For a moment, I have no idea what the hell he’s talking about, but then it hits me.

Toilet.

He must be having problems at the new apartment. I hate building owners that aren’t on top of their facilities, and I hope he didn’t end up in an apartment run by one.

“Look, I don’t know who I have to call to get this done, but I will complain to every person I can find,” he spits out, then I hear something that sounds like a cell phone being dropped hard onto the desk.

I release the knob and step back.

Everything in me is telling me to go out there and fix it for him, but it’ll only put him in a bad mood. He’ll argue, tell me it’s fine. So, I’ll have to catch him off guard.

Tonight. When he’s home and has nowhere to run.

I go back to my computer and search for his employee file to grab his address. Illegal, yes, but sometimes you have to do things that are, well, illegal for the greater good.

The rest of the day is spent going through emails and reports. As he usually does, Tage knocks on my door and says goodbye at exactly five. I give him a smile and wave, like I usually do, and don’t speak a word of how I’ll see him soon. Like, in an hour, maybe. Hopefully, he plans to go right home.

The apartment building is an average-looking six-tenement in a decent—and I use that word lightly—neighborhood. He could do better, but all in good time, I suppose. I don’t know what rent goes for these days, but he’s aware I’d give him a higher salary if he needed it. Problem is, he’s too proud. But that’s okay, I guess. He’s got his own place; he’s figuring it out. One day, maybe he won’t have this apartment at all. Maybe he’ll be living somewhere else… closer to me. Like inside my house. You never know.

The front door is locked, so I have no way of getting up to his floor without him knowing. I could ring his bell and say it’s me, but then he may not let me in. I could pretend to be someone else and hope he’ll ring me in. Or I could—

The heavy door is yanked open with the force of a large man, only there is a tiny old woman on the other side.

“Oh, good evening, sir,” she says with a bright smile. “You’re the cute one who just moved into the empty apartment. Lost your keys already?”

I raise a brow, wondering if she’s talking about Tage or someone else. We don’t look alike, but if her eyesight isn’t great…

“Yes, I misplaced them already.” I hold my hands up, then drop them to my sides and laugh.

“Well don’t you worry, honey. I’ll let you in. And if you ever forget them again, just ring my bell. I’m in 1A.”

“Thank you, ma’am.” I reach for the door.

She waves me off and hurries down the steps quicker than I’d think someone of her age could go steadily.

When I’m inside the cramped hallway, I stop and look back over my shoulder. What luck.

It’s fate.