I opened my mouth to protest but had no idea what I could even say. Mrs. Glass had very clearly lost her mind. She didn’t personally promote people. She didn’t step in and undermine her previous plans with impulsive decisions.
It was beginning to feel like Travis Rosenthal was a fever dream that was slowly but surely infecting every part of my reality. It was enough to make me want to scream in frustration.
But I shut down all the emotions I felt and forced myself to smile. “Understood.”
I stayed late that night. Frankly, I didn’t want to go home. I knew my mother was expecting me to call when I got off work, but I could delay the inevitable if I told her I had to work late. I was still playing email tag as well, and the latest email that came through had me scratching my head. I was at a complete loss.
Someone knocked at my door. The sound made me jump because it was well after eight, and all but the most driven and insane people had gone home hours ago. Sometimes the janitor did need to come in to empty out my trash can, though. I got up, only halfway paying attention as I opened the door and gestured for them to come in and do what they needed.
But Travis was there with his hands in his pockets, messy hair looking fresh and clean like he had just been showered and professionally quaffed by a team of experts.
“No,” I said.
“Woah there.” His voice was calm. He held his hands out toward me like I was an angry animal that needed soothed. Maybe that wasn’t too far from the truth. “I just came by because Mrs. Glass told me about her plan to move me in your office. I wanted you to know I didn’t have anything to do with that. I actually tried to talk her out of it.”
“Why would I believe that? All you’ve done since we met is weasel your way into my life. This is exactly the kind of thing you would do.”
“That’s fair. But believe it or not, I don’t want to fuck up your goals here. I may not understand it but succeeding here is obviously important to you. And I’m going to support you in that.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m just saying even if you aren’t thrilled about me getting moved into your office, you’ll be glad it happened. We’re going to be an unstoppable duo. Trust me.”
I sat down behind my desk and absently looked at the email still open on my monitor. Before I realized what he was doing, Travis was over my shoulder, reading every word.
“Working on a response?” he asked.
“Privacy,” I grated. “It’s something you know very little about, but you’re going to be learning a hell of a lot about it if we’re sharing a space.”
“Sorry, I’ve always struggled with privacy. But this kind of stuff?” He said, pointing at my screen. “This is exactly what I do best. Let me send them an email for you. I guarantee it’ll get you in the right direction. If it doesn’t, I’ll resign. Swear on my grandfather’s grave. Er, I keep forgetting he’s still alive. But I’d still swear it on his shiny bald head.”
“You may type up a draft. And it's only because I’m exhausted. Do not hit send. I’ll look it over and decide if it passes.”
Travis got on his knees beside me, apparently having no issue with me looking over his shoulder. He began typing with his index fingers only. The speed he typed was so painfully slow that I was grating my teeth after only a few seconds.
“Do you even know how to type?” I demanded.
“Not quickly. I usually have someone do this part for me. Would you mind?”
As with almost every interaction we had, I was very close to physically shoving him out of the room at that point. But I really needed this plan to work, even if it meant enlisting the help of Barry Boulders. “Fine. But get out of my space.”
He sprang to his feet and began pacing with his hands held properly behind his back. When he was done narrating his proposed email, I re-read everything I’d typed. I worked my lips to the side, almost telling him it wouldn’t work out of pure spite. Except he hadn’t just spoken in Traviseese. He’d made it sound like me, somehow. Only a much more convincing, much more clever version of me. And damn it, I had to admit he made some excellent points in the email, all without promising anything that would get me in trouble with Mrs. Glass when I revealed my plan.
I finally looked up at him.
He was waiting patiently and snacking on something he had in his jacket pocket. Mixed nuts, maybe? “Well?” he asked. “What do you think?”