A Psychopath For a Boss

Chapter 5 Jobs Proposition

James's POV

"Sir, please, whoever is selling the plans out-."

The bumbling idiot I had been talking to for the past hour was cut off as I slammed a hand down on my nice glass desk, making a satisfying clang that was very audible in my office. "Look, George, you've been here four times. Four times have I have said you've got to handle this." I told him in a low voice. "So, either handle the leaks, or I find someone more competent." I watched the fear etched on his face, as he nodded and made empty promises in a futile attempt to reassure me he had everything covered.

I walked past him to my black office doors, opening one. "Now, please leave. I have an appointment with someone I actually want to speak with." I told him in a professional voice, watching George nod and shuffle out of there like I was weighing his worth to me with my gaze. Sadly, I was not doing so today.

Mister Paperwork stood in the hall, just as I had hoped. He wore a soft dark blue plaid button-up, reasonably similar-colored slacks, and likely hand-me-down business shoes. I waved him into my office, feeling a pull at the corner of my mouth. "Mister Travis Wade." I greeted. "Welcome to my office. Sit in the grey chair." I instructed him, watching his face with my sadistic streak loving to watch nervousness and confusion creep on his features.

"The only grey chair is behind the desk." Travis pointed out. "Isn't it more fitting for you to be sitting in that chair?"

"You're not colorblind, good. As fitting as sitting in the chair would be, I'm saying you've got to sit in the grey chair Wade." I informed him. I expected some sort of glimpse of a hopeful future in his eye, some sort of fantasy I could rip away from him and test his place on the ladder. Yet, I saw none.

Mister Wade lost all nervousness, as he simply gave me a gaze that one would give a man most likely on drugs. He walked to the chair, dusted the seat off, and moved up into the leather. Mindfully, he lightly fixed his papers against the glass too. Mister Paperwork fit him perfectly, you'd never have to guess who I meant with him around. He knew where to test the line for certain, and where to expect nothing from a man such as myself. Travis both unsettled and interested me at the same time.

I sat across from him. "What have you brought there?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Some things with your secretary..." He laid down the stack neatly, "...then my resume and qualifications for most jobs in business, even with accounting..." These papers were all in a file with his name neatly on the corner, laid beside the stack, "...and some photographs, layouts waiting for approval, and proof that I have done as you asked cleaning up the advertisement building." He put down a red binder, with a glittery spine. I liked that the best, smirking and picking the particular object up. "The binder was one of the only ones I had...." He said in an apologetic tone, which made everything better because that meant he had bought this glitter binder to use elsewhere. I was going to be taking it.

"Travis, you've outdone yourself here." I chuckled to myself, traveling a finger down the glitter spine, then opened the binder. "Amazing photos, and layouts.... The photos of the office look very well-taken. You're a very organized man. Unfortunately, you did not have to bring your resume and all that." I said, pushing the folder back towards him. "I am very aware of your qualifications. I'm one to know that you probably haven't listed your attempts to get into modeling in four different companies in that folder." I watched the embarrassment creep on his cheeks slightly. A stolen model, as I guessed.

I continued talking, raising a signaling hand to quiet as he tried to defend himself. "Being in advertising, you've no doubt noticed the strides I've taken model-wise to keep up with the world and beauty. Gorgeous ladies of color, hair of all degrees and hues, models that are not as stiff-necked as the ones on the original ads my grandfather created down in the lobby. However, rival companies have choked-out the supply of models that come to apply lately."

I watched gorgeous confusion swirl in his open-mouthed gaze, before a shock of realization hit that closed his mouth and widened his eyes, as he figured out where I was leading. "I intend to give you two jobs, both very high pay. One is an office job, you will be on the floor below me. You bring these to me to approve." I took out one of the layouts from the red sparkly binder, waving the piece to him. "The other is a modeling job. I intend to make you the first male model of our company." I informed him. "As for pay-"

"What if I'm... not into modeling anymore?" Travis interrupted in a depressed voice. The sound of failure and self-doubt was clear, disappointing tones. I was not exactly expecting him to burst with joy, but I had in fact prepared for this.

"I'm offering the jobs together, or not at all." I told him, side of my mouth twitching up again as I watched the conquest of emotions grip him. "Besides, I did expect this from you. You'll be stepped though your first shoots by one of my best photographers. Your photos will be looked over, edited, cropped, and processed in advertisement. There is no guarantee that your face will even end up on my desk in the first week. So will you take the jobs? I mean, I could always find someone-"

"I'll take the jobs." Travis cut me off again. He certainly knew where to draw a line. I was disappointed to find a hint of inching guarded determination in his eyes, and no flickering of cowardice. No prancing worry about cutting me off either. I liked him, though he made me want to break him.

"Very well." I nodded. "You'll start both tomorrow, be here at seven-thirty. You'll have a keycard, a desk, and at twelve, you're going to have to be at the shoot location. I'll have the photographer email you where, and the blonde downstairs get your ID.... Welcome to the center of Alo."