She's The Wild West

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SIX

It was silent.

It was silent as I poured the new drink, which I was pretty sure was whiskey.

It was silent as I looked around for something to clean the mess with. I ended up finding a supply closet in the hallway with a broom, dustpan and paper towels.

It was silent as I crouched beside Ms. Mori's big, mahogany desk and cleaned up the mess she'd made, sweeping the floor as she sipped her new, alcoholic drink.

It was silent when I returned from putting the cleaning stuff back, silent as I grabbed a chair from beside the bookcase to place in front of her desk and silent for the first few minutes after I'd sat down.

I was feeling slightly bothered by her action with the drink but I tried not to let it show on my face. I wasn't someone who got angry really, so 'bothered' was the best word to describe how her action left me feeling. It was rude, and unnecessary, but I was determined to stick it out. After minutes of me sitting in silence before her, she finally acknowledged me and I sat up straighter in my seat.

"After looking this place up, you should have at least some idea of just how much work it takes to run, though I'm positive that whatever you're thinking is a gross underestimation."

"How did-"

"Although I have over two hundred employees, I still remain the busiest person in this building at all times." She carried on, like I hadn't even opened my mouth.

Up until that point, she'd been speaking to me without looking but, suddenly she met my eyes, her face stoic and gorgeous. The unshattered glass pressed against her lips gently as she took a sip. Half of the beverage was gone.

"Mondays and Wednesdays, 8:00am to 2:45 pm and Saturdays and Sundays 8:00am to 6:00pm you will be here, inside this building, doing whatever I tell you to do. I already have two executive assistants that do company related work I give them, but you'll be my personal assistant. I don't pour my own drinks, get my own coffee or clean things off the floor unless I wish to, and I don't."

She paused to tuck some of her hair behind her left ear, though most of the silky black strands escaped immediately and fell right back into place. Then she took a moment to look me over, from the top of my head as far down as she could see from behind her desk, all the way back up again. I could feel her eyes on me, like a faint, distant physical touch grazing down my body. When her eyes came back to mine, her lips softly quirked up on one side.

"You're a very pretty boy Monroe. Do you know that?"

Did I hear that right?

I smiled at the compliment but I wasn't sure how to answer.

I knew that there were some people that found me attractive but, with that, I knew there were some people that absolutely hated the way I looked. People saw my short afro of tight curls, flat nose, large lips and they knew that I was Black, but then they saw my light brown skin and hazel eyes and suddenly they had an opinion they felt they should share. I grew up with white people teasing me for my Black features constantly and I even dealt with Black people slipping me snide remarks about being too white. I hated the way I looked for a lot of my life and people only started finding me attractive late in high school.

I wasn't insecure about it- anymore- but I wasn't ready to compliment myself either. I definitely wasn't ready to call myself something like pretty though. That I knew for sure.

"I don't know." I muttered through a diffident grin.

She didn't seem very interested in my answer. She might not have even wanted one in the first place.