The Devil You Know

Julian Prythe was not a man to be reckoned with. Or that was how all the rumors went, though I wasn't one to believe the mill of old gossips over in accounting. I was just that girl who worked in the inter-campus delivery for mail and briefs. It seemed as innovatively minded as Prythe claimed to be that he couldn't even get a proper messenger system for the college he oversaw. What, was he a conspiracy theorist who thought all the tech giants were tracking him through his smartphone?

My sister Marnie worked for the president's office and had helped me get the interview for the mail arm of the college after I had graduated with my history degree. "No wonder you couldn't get a job," Marnie mumbled as she tapped at her keyboard. "Who had the grand aspirations to reach for a doctorate and become some famous archaeologist?"

"Oh, stop," I said as I sorted through the envelopes I was ready to deliver to her. "Look, I even brought you a muffin so you didn't have to go to cafeteria for your ten a.m. snack."

"It better be chocolate chip," she said, and I barked a laugh as I laid down the stack of envelopes and the paper bag with the muffin on her desk.

"At least you saw me and not Trista," I said. "She's in a bad mood because of the budget cuts. Says she needs more student employees."

"Is this where I should say you're worth ten student employees?"

"If you loved me, sister dear," I said. When she said nothing, I peered past her to the door behind which sat the looming President Prythe. "Is he still a major grouch?"

"Who, Julian?" Marnie's cheeks, I noticed, did not fail to pinken. Her eyes darted from the door and back to her screen. "I don't know. He doesn't talk to me if he can help it."

"Charming," I said. I noticed how my sister didn't continue the conversation. I guessed she still had it bad for the boss man, even with his crown as His Highness the Jerk.

Well. I couldn't blame her. She hadn't had a date since Greg the Grinch had dumped her over FaceTime. I still remembered how she had cried, her face scrunched up until she couldn't breathe and I had to get her the inhaler she hadn't regularly used since high school.

Marnie had some bad taste in men, but the heart wanted what it wanted.

"Do you want me to give him his mail then? You look pretty busy."

A frown line appeared between Marnie's eyebrows. "He's on a conference call, I think. I know you want to get a peek at him, Angie, but you'll have to indulge yourself another day."

I picked up the stack of envelopes. "I'll just play dumb like I always do."

"Angie—"

Before Marnie could stop me, I made a mad dash for the black door and knocked three times. Marnie's face went red with anger, and I knew she wanted to strangle me. Then I called out, "Mail delivery!" before pushing my way through the door.

A clean-cut man—short black hair, bushy black brows, and a look of indignation on his face—stared at me. I knew I had cut him off mid-conversation in his meeting. "Marnie, I thought I said—"

"Oh, sorry, sorry, my bad. Your secretary's swamped." The door closed behind me as I stepped into the office. I put the envelopes on his desk even though I had a feeling that Marnie went through each piece of his mail too.

"Sorry, Kevin, I have to call you back." Julian Prythe hit a button on his fancy-looking telephone. "Did my secretary fail to tell you I was in a meeting?"

"Like I said, swamped," I said, making a miming gesture of an explosion while he furrowed his brow. I could see why Marnie liked working for him. He had a pleasant face, even though the lines on his face told me he frowned a lot.

"Let me guess, you're one of Trista Hart's girls," he said. "I'll be sending your supervisor a notice—"

"Yeah, well, I'm one of her best, and she's not too happy about the budget cuts as it is." That shut him up. "But, really, I hate to break it to you that your secretary is severely stressed out. I see her nearly every day—" I wasn't kidding about that "—and she could use a good long lunch break for all her effort."

Julian Prythe's frown deepened. Yep, he was definitely a frowner by trade. "I'm sure she can tell me all this herself. She has a voice."

Not when it comes to you. "Look, I'm just a menial worker. But shouldn't a boss treat his secretary to lunch every once in a while?"

"Excuse me?"

I was treading a rocky path here. "I'm sure it's not that big a deal. You make a nice six figures, don't you? Wait, don't tell me. But, really, there needs to be more morale around this place. Everybody looks so tired all the time. What is this, a sweat shop?"

"It's a private college," he said, and I could tell from the thinness of his voice that he was an inch from losing his cool. It was nice to know that he and Marnie had that trait in common.

Even if I lost my job because of this, at least my sister might get a workplace date out of the deal.

"I may be overstepping here, but a boss should show appreciation for his employees' work. Is that too much to ask?"

Julian Prythe folded his hands in front of him. "Kindly leave my office," he said, voice curt, and this time I obliged by going out just the way I'd come.

Marnie wouldn't even look at me as I strode past her, but I had a feeling she had heard almost every word through the door just moments ago. She was probably mortified.

But what happened later that day? President Prythe took his secretary down to the cafeteria for a late lunch. Marnie was positively blooming when she got home, to the point that she didn't have much energy left to be angry at me.

I got written up by Trista with strict orders not to go to the president's office as of further notice, but it was a small price to pay.

And what showed up at our house a few weeks later? A six-bottle wine package, ranging from Merlot to Riesling, with a note from Julian Prythe. Marnie had made a passing remark that our father had trained as a sommelier in his youth, and Julian had thought we as a family would be able to appreciate the subtle qualities of the wines he had selected.

The thing I was worried about: what would happen when it came time for him to meet the family in person?

I supposed I had better work on that archaeology internship overseas, stat.