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At my father’s grave, she’d said that even though she’d known I was on my way, the anger she felt at my appearance had shocked her. And now at that moment I could almost understand why she’d been so angry. The changes in her character, intrinsic stuff, had occurred without my being there to see them happen. Somebody else had watched her grow from the naive artist into the calm businesswoman standing before me.
Unlike her, it wasn’t necessarily anger I felt. A part of how I felt was actually pride, pride in everything she’d accomplished even if those goals weren’t ones I’d have wished for her. Maybe it was nostalgia, I asked myself. Then decided such thoughts were pointless, and were, in fact, stress-inducing.
The last thing I needed when Justin was looking as perplexed as he was.
The man himself grumbled, “I was looking for you last night.”
Because he aimed the question at both of us, I wasn't entirely sure who he was grumbling at. We cut each other a look, both of us trying to decide who was in the hot seat.
Apparently accustomed to taking the blame, Lauren was the first to speak and she said, "You didn't call, Justin. I’d have answered otherwise."
He pulled a face. "Not you. Him."
I blinked in surprise. Then pointed a finger at myself. "Me?"
Justin sighed. "Who else?" He scratched at his temple, and as his skin was pink and totally different from the rest of his face, I figured he'd been scratching there a lot all morning. In fact, my supposition seemed to be correct because Lauren's hand shot out to slap his wrist. The clap was so loud that I jolted in surprise.
"Stop that. I'm the one who has to arrange the appointments with the doctor, who hates coming here because you're a pain in the ass as a patient. Don't be making that worse again." She shot me a look, her lips flattening at my astonished expression–had she really just slapped her boss? "Stress-induced eczema," she stated, like that explained everything.
Feeling a bit like a rabbit in headlights, I asked, "Justin, what did you need last night? I had my phone on. You didn't call."
He huffed. "I know I didn't call. Not your cell anyway. "
Now I was the one who felt like scratching at his temple, stress-induced eczema be damned.
Lauren sighed. "We've gone over this, Justin. You can't call out and expect us to be here at four in the morning." Under her breath, she mumbled, "See what I mean about being difficult?"
I snorted. If anybody was difficult, it was the Leviathan half of Leviathan and Dronig. The CEO of my advertising agency was a known dragon in the industry. Renowned for his unreasonable demands, as well as his revolutionary ideas back in the 70s, James Leviathan was a beast to work for. Justin, by comparison, seemed a bit more Trotsky.
Without the ice pick ending, at least, I hoped.
Slightly amused at the notion Justin had called out for me, expecting me to hear when I was miles away—even more, to answer from miles away—I murmured, "I had my cell on, Justin. If you need me, feel free to call. I'm used to working at weird hours."
Justin's eyes lit up at that, and Lauren groaned. "You don't know what you've just done. You opened Pandora's box."
Justin growled. "He did not. I'm not that bad."
Lauren just smirked. "He'll find out."
I cleared my throat, wanting to get the conversation back on track. I felt like it had derailed in a direction I hadn't expected... Up until now, I hadn’t seen this side of the relationship between employer and employee. There was a definite friendship between the two of them that surprised me. Such informal talk and behaviour weren't usually encouraged in the workplace, never mind between boss and underling. But I could tell here, that was anything but the case.
Justin didn't want to be surrounded by sycophants, nor did he want to be surrounded by people who were too rigid and who refused to flex and bend to his needs.
In essence, he needed somebody relaxed enough to be okay with working with a kook like him, while also needing somebody who would work to his pace, and who was efficient enough to get the job done without being prodded up the ass by a superior watching them over their shoulder.
It was then I realized, Lauren had found a niche for herself. It wasn't the niche I'd imagined her having all those years ago but I could see that she was happy here. That Justin was happy with her as an employee, and that damnable pride came out again. I was pleased for her, sure. She'd made a good situation out of a bad one. But more than that, it made me feel like everything had happened for a reason.
As though, because of the path I’d made her take, she discovered this was her place in the world.
A notion that triggered uncomfortable thoughts if I was being honest. And when was it useful to be anything but honest with oneself?
Learning of her unusual routine and unregimented schedule, of the ease she had with her boss and her comfort in her place of work, I knew one thing from the off.
She wouldn't be happy in New York.
"Anyway, now you're here, I need to speak with you." Justin planted his hands on his hips. "Lauren, toddle off and do whatever it is you do for me."
She snorted. "What? Like everything?" she finished sweetly, with just a touch of sass.
