The Overseer by Conlan Brown

felt himself get defensive. “I still think you should have kept the Overseer job when they gave it to you instead of handing it over to me. Just the other day I had one of the Domani Financial staff tell me that God appointed you as Overseer, and you were therefore unable to step down, making you the rightful Overseer.”
    “I’m the wrong man,” Devin insisted.
    “What makes you say that?”
    “Because the job of a leader is to get people to do things, and there are only two ways to make that happen—you can either make people want to do things, or you make them afraid not to. And I’m not above using fear to push people.”
    John heaved a sigh. “But at least you’d be pushing people in the right direction.”
    “No,” Devin retorted. “Bullying people into doing good is just as despicable as charming people into doing evil.” Devin stood, picking up his briefcase. “This is your job, whether you like it or not.”
    John followed him out the door.
    “The Firstborn are going to need a strong and worthwhile leader through this,” Devin said. “Listen to counsel, but lead with your conscience.” Then he turned and walked away.
    John nodded. “I’ll keep that in—”
    She was standing in the hall, typing something into her cellular telephone. Blonde hair. Business attire—black and red. Her features—every one of them—sculpted and beautiful. Her eyes lifted, as if she could sense that she was being looked at.
    “John,” she said with enigmatic shock.
    The syllables fell out of John’s mouth without heed: “Trista.”
    Devin nodded at her. “Miss Brightling.”
    Trista’s eyes snapped away from John. “Devin, just who I was looking for. I was told to see you to get up to speed on the financial situation.” Her eyes darted back to John for a split second as she approached Devin.
    “Yes,” Devin said, “I can have you up to speed in very little time. I’m headed back to the office; I can brief you on the way.”
    “Excellent,” she replied with a nod.
    “Trista,” John said again, just trying to get her attention in some way now. She looked at him, face neutral. “How are you?”
    “I’m good,” she said, eyes only making contact with John’s for a moment, then looking away.
    “Last I heard you were in Belize.”
    She nodded, looking at him again. “It was good.”
    Devin cleared his throat. “I’ll be in the lobby.”
    Trista smiled, nodding at Devin. “I’ll be right with you.”
    Devin turned away, walked down the hall, and disappeared around the corner.
    “So,” John asked, feeling a bit unsteady, “how was it?”
    “What?” she asked, expression stoic.
    “Belize.”
    “Oh,” she replied, snapping back to the conversation. “It was…” She paused for a moment, thinking. “It was good.”
    “I’m glad to hear it,” he said, nodding, as if the movement would shake the feeling of awkwardness from him.
    The hall was quiet for a moment as they simply looked each other over.
    “So,” John began again, heart rate a little quicker than before, “any chance we could catch up?”
    “Sure.” Her eyes searched his face. “It has been…awhile.”
    “A year,” John agreed, stuffing his hands in his pockets. He looked to the sides, realizing they were alone in the hall. “So, are you free tonight?”
    “Uh,” she said with a lilting smile, “I think so.”
    “Dinner?”
    “Sure, I guess we could do dinner.”
    “Good.” He cleared his throat. “I’ll give you a call. Does that sound good?”
    “Do you have the number for my new phone?”
    “No, I…”
    “I’ll call you,” she said, walking the same way Devin had gone, looking back.
    “Does eight work?” John called after.
    “That should be fine,” she nodded, waved, then turned and walked away.
    John watched her disappear around the corner. Trista was back. And his world had turned upside down.

    Devin Bathurst stood in the lobby, waiting for Trista.
    His cell phone buzzed in his chest pocket,