spear a piece of pork.
“I hired her,” Shaw says through a mouthful of noodles.
Having just placed the piece of pork in my mouth, I then spray it halfway across the room.
“You what?” My incredulity is a zombie T-Rex smashing through the room.
“Would you be better off with a fork?” Shaw’s face is the picture of innocence.
“You did what to her?”
“Hiring someone is not a violent act, Arthur.”
“It is to bloody Clyde,” I say. And I believe I have a point.
Shaw puts down her chopsticks. “What should I have done, Arthur? Clyde had told her everything. Literally everything. In fact he briefed her so extensively I think I should have him date and break up with all new hires. Tabitha’s in the process of stepping up into more of a field agent role. We need a good researcher in the office, and I suddenly have one sitting in my lap.”
“She’s going to work for Tabitha?” My voice leaps up to an octave I didn’t know it could reach. “Her ex-boyfriend’s new girlfriend is going to be her boss?”
Shaw shakes her head. “She won’t report to Tabitha. I don’t think Tabitha’s entirely ready for that sort of responsibility.”
“Not exactly my point.” Jesus. Shaw is sensible and steady. How can she be letting this happen?
“Look, Arthur.” Shaw grimaces. “I didn’t recruit her. Clyde did. My hands were somewhat tied.”
“This is going to be a disaster,” I say. Which is maybe not diplomatic of me.
Shaw puts out her hands, calming rough waters. “We saved the world yesterday,” Shaw says. She’s smiling. “How bad can we do at this?”
Considering the arse-whooping the Russian woman gave us, the depths are starting to seem deeper than I’d previously imagined.
But Shaw is leaning over the boxes of noodles to kiss me, and that exact point gets lost for a while.
Later, after a fork is fetched
Given the long girlfriend drought I suffered through prior to this relationship, I am intimately aware with that moment when there is nothing left on TV except infomercials and made-for-TV movies about hepatitis. The time when there is nothing left to do but hang around. It’s usually around two in the morning.
But having already crashed headlong through the sex-with-my-boss barrier and landed, tangled in the sheets, on the other side, there’s no bloody way I’m waiting around that long tonight.
I slip my hand off Shaw’s and onto the remote. The news credits roll out to Big Ben’s farewell bongs. I press a button on the remote, and the TV dies with a little electronic sigh.
I turn, look at her. She turns, looks at me. She has her hair down, has her legs tucked up under her. She has a spot of soy sauce on her chin that I think is cute enough to not tell her about.
I smile. And I know exactly what Kurt Russell would do.
Shaw reaches out a hand, touches my chest. I lean towards her. But there is no give in her arms.
As much fun as kissing is, I am abruptly aware of how stupid someone looks in the split-second before it all happens, eyes half-closed, lips half-puckered.
I pull my face back into the semblance of a non-idiot. Shaw is smiling.
“I’m not stopping anything,” she tells me. “This isn’t me wishing you good night. Far from it. But…” She looks away for a moment. “I just want to make sure we both know what we’re doing here. I… I get that this could be weird. I’m the wrong side of forty. I’m divorced. I work a lot. I’m your boss.” She shrugs. “And the thing is, I’m not going to stop being any of those things.”
“I don’t mind those things,” I say. And it’s true.
“Except I think you might have minded a bit in the museum today. With the way I handled Kayla. And the Weekenders. Sometimes I’m going to make calls you disagree with. And I’m going to stand by those decisions despite you. And it won’t be personal, but I think sometimes it’ll feel that way.”
And that’s true too. But…“I’m willing to work with
“I hired her,” Shaw says through a mouthful of noodles.
Having just placed the piece of pork in my mouth, I then spray it halfway across the room.
“You what?” My incredulity is a zombie T-Rex smashing through the room.
“Would you be better off with a fork?” Shaw’s face is the picture of innocence.
“You did what to her?”
“Hiring someone is not a violent act, Arthur.”
“It is to bloody Clyde,” I say. And I believe I have a point.
Shaw puts down her chopsticks. “What should I have done, Arthur? Clyde had told her everything. Literally everything. In fact he briefed her so extensively I think I should have him date and break up with all new hires. Tabitha’s in the process of stepping up into more of a field agent role. We need a good researcher in the office, and I suddenly have one sitting in my lap.”
“She’s going to work for Tabitha?” My voice leaps up to an octave I didn’t know it could reach. “Her ex-boyfriend’s new girlfriend is going to be her boss?”
Shaw shakes her head. “She won’t report to Tabitha. I don’t think Tabitha’s entirely ready for that sort of responsibility.”
“Not exactly my point.” Jesus. Shaw is sensible and steady. How can she be letting this happen?
“Look, Arthur.” Shaw grimaces. “I didn’t recruit her. Clyde did. My hands were somewhat tied.”
“This is going to be a disaster,” I say. Which is maybe not diplomatic of me.
Shaw puts out her hands, calming rough waters. “We saved the world yesterday,” Shaw says. She’s smiling. “How bad can we do at this?”
Considering the arse-whooping the Russian woman gave us, the depths are starting to seem deeper than I’d previously imagined.
But Shaw is leaning over the boxes of noodles to kiss me, and that exact point gets lost for a while.
Later, after a fork is fetched
Given the long girlfriend drought I suffered through prior to this relationship, I am intimately aware with that moment when there is nothing left on TV except infomercials and made-for-TV movies about hepatitis. The time when there is nothing left to do but hang around. It’s usually around two in the morning.
But having already crashed headlong through the sex-with-my-boss barrier and landed, tangled in the sheets, on the other side, there’s no bloody way I’m waiting around that long tonight.
I slip my hand off Shaw’s and onto the remote. The news credits roll out to Big Ben’s farewell bongs. I press a button on the remote, and the TV dies with a little electronic sigh.
I turn, look at her. She turns, looks at me. She has her hair down, has her legs tucked up under her. She has a spot of soy sauce on her chin that I think is cute enough to not tell her about.
I smile. And I know exactly what Kurt Russell would do.
Shaw reaches out a hand, touches my chest. I lean towards her. But there is no give in her arms.
As much fun as kissing is, I am abruptly aware of how stupid someone looks in the split-second before it all happens, eyes half-closed, lips half-puckered.
I pull my face back into the semblance of a non-idiot. Shaw is smiling.
“I’m not stopping anything,” she tells me. “This isn’t me wishing you good night. Far from it. But…” She looks away for a moment. “I just want to make sure we both know what we’re doing here. I… I get that this could be weird. I’m the wrong side of forty. I’m divorced. I work a lot. I’m your boss.” She shrugs. “And the thing is, I’m not going to stop being any of those things.”
“I don’t mind those things,” I say. And it’s true.
“Except I think you might have minded a bit in the museum today. With the way I handled Kayla. And the Weekenders. Sometimes I’m going to make calls you disagree with. And I’m going to stand by those decisions despite you. And it won’t be personal, but I think sometimes it’ll feel that way.”
And that’s true too. But…“I’m willing to work with
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