Resignation of Bien

Bad Egg

The weather was foul, and Bien had forgotten his umbrella. Of course, anyone who knew him would say he never really brought one—not even once. Even if he did, he wouldn't use it. He didn't want it to get wet.

As Bien waited for a ride, the drizzle began. He had been praying for the rain to hold off before he secured a ride since he had been waiting for twenty minutes since clocking out of Sing FM, but his prayers went unanswered. The drizzle thickened, and there was no shelter where he stood.

A gray sports car stopped in front of him. Bien didn't think much of it until the driver's window rolled down, revealing Christian's sharp jawline nearly brushing the collar of his favorite blue polo. He wore sunglasses, and his mid-length hair was tied neatly in a half-pony.

"Get in," Christian said, not even bothering to look at him.

Bien cleared his throat. "I can manage, thanks."

The window rolled up, and Christian drove off fast.

Bien blinked, dropping his jaw in disbelief. He wasn't even going to insist? How could he just drive off knowing the sky was about to pour? Bien clenched his teeth and sighed heavily. "May your feet land on shit today," he cursed.

Then the drizzle was not a drizzle anymore, it was between that and heavy rain, enough to drench. He closed his eyes. "Lord, please let there be a ride," he said.

He opened his eyes to see the same sports car parked before him. Christian opened the door and went straight to him, grabbing his arm and dragging him to the passenger's side.

"Shut up and get in." Christian opened the door and shoved Bien inside.

As Christian went around to the driver's seat, Bien felt his heart race. Christian closed the door and adjusted himself through the rearview mirror.

"I said I can manage," Bien said, just as a thunderclap followed by heavy rain drowned his words. Christian's response was a snide smile and a raised eyebrow.

"This is your first day," Christian said. "You wouldn't want to show up drenched, would you?"

Of course, he wouldn't.

Christian grabbed his seatbelt and immediately noticed Bien wasn't touching his. He rolled his eyes and leaned toward Bien.

"What are you doing?" Bien exclaimed, backing away from Christian's zooming face.

Their gazes locked. Bien felt Christian's breath brush over his face, and his scent—sweet like chocolate, fresh like a forest breeze—brought back memories. Christian hadn't changed at all. His imprudence in invading spaces was still astounding. Bien felt his body freeze and his face warm.

Christian blinked and cleared his throat, sitting back. "Seatbelt," he said. "I don't want you breaking my windshield if I suddenly hit the brakes. That's all."

Without further ado, Christian stepped on the gas. The radio was silent, the windows were shut, and nobody spoke. It felt like the longest ride Bien had ever experienced. All he could hear was his breath and the heavy traffic outside. The agony of the awkward silence ended when they reached the office of Bad Egg Productions, a small three-story building with the company name above the main entrance.

Inside, everyone greeted Christian as though he wasn't the boss. One employee fist-bumped him, and another cracked a joke. Christian laughed and pointed at the employee. "Good try! That's corny. Don't say that again."

The office had a typical setup: a front desk near the main entrance, an elevator at the far end of the main hall, and a stairway on the far side. Another room had a sign above the doorway that read "Pantry."

There were only a few employees on the first floor who greeted Christian as they headed to the elevator. Bien felt like everyone was staring at him, but that was normal when entering an unfamiliar place.

On the third floor, everyone expressed their happiness at seeing Christian. One employee with a cup in his hand stopped to greet them both.

"Hi!" he said. "Name's Axel. You are?"

Bien introduced himself.

As Axel expressed his pleasure at meeting him, he turned to Christian. "Is he it?"

"Yes," Christian replied. "He'll be working under you."

"You sure you don't want him working under you? You know, like you're the top, he's the bott..."

Christian suddenly coughed and pushed Axel away. "Aren't you going to the pantry?"

"I wasn't. But...I guess you want me to," said Axel, waving at Bien. "Talk to you soon!"

"Shall we?" Christian continued walking. Beside his office was a desk with a woman who stood and bowed to Christian.

"Aren't you supposed to be home by now?" Christian asked.

"I was waiting for you to return, sir."

Christian introduced Bien to her. "Her name's Anna."

"Ah! So you're the one who messaged me?"

Anna nodded.

"At that hour?"

Anna bowed again and apologized.

Bien waved his hands in panic. "There's no need to apologize," he stuttered, his bravado vanishing when he saw all the paperwork beside her. She must have been working late hours, too. So, Christian was a slaver just like Mr. Boy.

"Go home," Christian said.

Anna thanked him, and Christian brought Bien into his office.

"She's just too passionate about her job, always staying late," Christian said as he sat at his desk. "Anyway, welcome to Bad Egg Productions. Since you have your day job at Sing FM, you'll be working here at night for four hours. We're a small team, so you'll mostly work with the marketing team and, if it's not too much, with the production team on edits as well."

Christian fired up his laptop. Bien remained standing, taking in the nice office: black carpet, probably natural lighting in the morning from the glass wall, a bookshelf full of self-help books, and another with trophies. A painting of a ship sailing in a storm hung on the wall.

"How should I address you?" Christian suddenly asked.

Bien blinked. "What?"

"Bien? Carlos? Reyes? Mr. Reyes? What do you prefer?"

Why was he acting as though he didn't know him? Now that Bien thought about it, Christian had acted as though they were strangers back at the meeting. He was polite as if there was no heartbreak seven years ago. He just introduced himself calmly and even asked for Bien's name. Maybe he didn't want it to be awkward between them. Yes, that could be it.

Bien smiled. "However you want, sir."

Christian nodded silently, still looking at his laptop. "Okay, Axel will guide you," he said. "You may go now... Bad Egg."

Did he just call him Bad Egg?

"What?" Christian asked, seeing Bien's twitching eyebrow. "You did tell me I could address you however I want."

With clenched teeth, Bien forced a smile. "I did."

Bien thanked Christian, calling him sir to draw a line between them. On his way out, he carefully controlled himself not to slam the door. To call him that? Bien scoffed at the thought. The audacity.