The Boss & The Assistant - Rewritten Edition of "The Boss"

Chapter 12 - Lafayette

"No, curiosity is not the same as nosiness. You should learn to mind your fucking business," I said.

"Well excuse me for wondering why you're suddenly arriving at the office at a normal time, or why you're leaving with Emerson every night and why suddenly you're cooking. You haven't done any of these things in years and-"

"Who gives a fuck? Why are you always so pressed about what I'm doing?"

"Oh, I don't know, maybe because you don't tell us anything anymore," he snapped.

"I don't tell you anything because you stick your nose in anyway."

Michael and I went back and forth. It's just how we were. I didn't like bickering in front of Emerson. He sat patiently while we went at it until Emilio stepped in, telling Michael to back off. When they left, I aggressively cut my food with my knife and fork.

"I'm sorry, Em, I didn't mean for you to see that," I said.

"It's okay," he said. After a moment, he said, "Your accent really comes out when you're mad. It's kind of funny."

"I don't think I have an accent," I said.

"No, I mean, not typically. Like, if you or I were in the midwest then people could totally tell we're from New York, you know? Like I sometimes get a little nasally, like Fran Drescher, but what do you expect from a Jewish New Yorker? For you, I think sometimes when you're mad or cursing it gets a little Irish New Yorker or something, a little Brooklyn, if you will."

"I guess I've never noticed," I said, smirking.

"Yeah, I mean it's not super stereotypical, just subtle. It's funny," he said.

"Well, still, I don't like reacting with anger or annoyance so quickly," I said. "Sometimes it just feels like I can't help it."

When I said this, I didn't think much of it, but when I glanced up at Em he was staring at me with his puppy dog eyes. "Have you..." He stopped himself.

"Have I what?" I asked. "Gone to therapy? Sure, I went for a long time, but it's been awhile. I had a hard time telling my therapist anything I probably should have told her."

Em glanced at his food, pausing, but I could see the thoughts running through his mind. "You know, I'm not a therapist obviously and I'm not qualified to give any advice, but...I think sometimes just talking to someone can be helpful, just someone to listen to them without needing to give advice back or something. So, you can always vent or talk to me, if you want," he said.

"I know," I said quietly. "I don't want to put that on you, though. I wouldn't want to burden you with my troubles or anything."

"I know you don't, but still. I don't mind," he said.

I met his eyes. Eye contact seems so rare these days. It was so intimate even though it didn't have to be. I knew he was telling the truth when I looked into his eyes. I glanced out the window. "Thank you, Em," I said. "You can, you know, always confide in me as well."

He laughed, to my surprise. "I think I already over-shared enough," he said.

I chuckled. "Surely there's no such thing as over sharing," I said.

He took a bite, nodding. "There is," he said with a mouthful. "Especially with my boss."

I laughed, something I did not do often but somehow seemed to do more with Emerson lately. When I laughed, he laughed. When he laughed, he smiled a genuine smile not easily captured in photos. His smile ate up his face, stretching from ear to ear, but it beamed like the sun. So I liked laughing because I liked it when he smiled.

After lunch, I had a meeting with the executives in the boardroom where I had interviewed Emerson. Michael, like usual, was the first one there. I was second. I sat across from him with my laptop and we sat in silence. I thought about what Emerson had said weeks ago, about how maybe Michael didn't like it when I snapped at him. Truth be told, although Michael was sometimes an annoying know-it-all, he wasn't always instigative. I brought out that side of him because I was the instigative one. He was nosy because he cared. I knew he missed having me confide in him and Emilio like I used to. They didn't confide in me that much anymore either, and I didn't blame them.

"I'm sorry for snapping at you," I said, staring at my laptop. My voice probably could have sounded softer, but I was bracing myself for a snarky response.

Michael didn't say anything but I felt his eyes on me. "I'm sorry, too," he said, with a softness that was appropriate for the conversation. He drummed his fingers. "We should come over to your place."

I finally looked at him, and when I did he rolled his eyes because my questionable face was not hidden. "Why?" I asked.

"We haven't been to your place in forever. Since you are now hosting people, we should come over and have a little barbecue or something like we used to," he said.

"I'm not hosting people. I am letting my employee stay with me because he does not make enough money to find a place to stay, and my guilt at not paying him enough compels me to let him stay with me," I said.

He rolled his eyes again. One of these days he was going to roll his eyes so hard he was going to pop a blood vessel. "It'll be fun," he said.

I could tell he was trying to not be instigative. "When?" I asked.

"This Saturday. The evening. We will all come over and you can cook for us the way you cooked for Emerson," he said.

"Fine, whatever," I said. "You can come over."

"Come over where?" Emilio asked, entering with Carla and Marion.

"Lafayette is hosting all of us this Saturday at seven," he said, because of course he would take it upon himself to set the time. "At his townhouse."

"Oh," Marion said, putting a hand on his chest. "I get to grace your home again?" Marion really loved my townhouse.

"Yes, you all can come if you want," I said. "Emerson will be there."

"We heard he was residing in your little abode," Marion said. "I cannot hide the jealousy I have. Jealousy that that little cutie gets to sleep with you or jealousy that he gets to live in that beautiful house."

"They're not sleeping together," Michael said. "Lafayette made that clear. He's giving Emerson charity for over exploiting the poor guy's hard work." Michael was coming off like an ass, but I knew he was saying this so I wouldn't have to. "Emerson stays so late like everyday. He deserves to go home, you know?"

"He chooses to stay," I said. "And we leave earlier now anyway since we carpool. Well, sometimes. Sometimes we walk."

"I noticed your pants have gotten tighter in the butt," Emilio said. "Walking is helping your glutes I think."

"Thank you for looking at my ass," I said. "Can we begin?"