Behind Blue Eyes

Chapter 3

Matt Stevens crawled under the desk, swearing in frustration as he tried to plug in his laptop. The power outlet was inconveniently positioned behind the drawer section of one of the three desks squeezed into the hoteling office space for visiting remote employees like himself. He finally jimmied the plug into the socket and clambered back to his feet, brushing dust off his pants and swearing again at how nicely wrinkled they'd become.

Matt had been conflicted about wearing a suit for his first meeting with his new boss. In the six months since David Purdue, PhD, MD, MBA, Senior Vice President of Research and Development had been onboard, their interactions had been limited to project team videoconferences. Matt doubted a suit would alter his boss's obvious disdain for him: a view that seemed largely based on Matt's lack of a doctorate degree, if not a reluctance to drink the KoolAid.

Matt sat in his chair, took a sip of black coffee, and clicked on the mail icon on the laptop's desktop. He groaned at the estimated time for his mailbox to synchronize and, mug in hand, headed to his administrative assistant's cubicle.

Rina did far more than her job title implied, but only for people she liked. Those she didn't quickly learned how to send their own packages by courier and complete their own expense reports. Luckily for Matt, he was liked which was good since, technically, she reported to him and Matt was averse to confrontation.

"Hello stranger," he said, sitting down in the empty chair behind her.

"Hello boss," she said, swiveling around to face him. "Ça va?"

"Ça va bien, merci. Et toi?"

She shrugged and handed him a pile of envelopes from her on-desk filing system. "Haven't seen you so smart since your interview. New suit?"

"You know me better than that. I'm a one suit and one tie guy," he said.

She laughed. "I may be a middle-aged, happily-married woman, but you'd look good in just a black garbage bag."

"I actually did wear a garbage bag once in my student days. Glastonbury 2010: bad weather and no umbrella."

"And just how many women did you pick up wearing it?"

Matt shook his head. "Is there any way for me to answer that question without you thinking less of me?"

Matt was sufficiently self-aware to accept without hubris that although from dubious sources, he'd inherited an enviable combination of genes. Bestowed with sandy brown hair, dimpled chin, and a five-foot-eleven, athletic frame that didn't require hours spent in the gym to maintain, it was, however, his eyes that were unarguably his not-so-secret weapon: the royalist of blues that under certain lighting conditions appeared violet. Matt had learned early in life the extent to which he'd been, and still was, judged for better or worse by his appearance.

He quickly scanned the contents of his mail before dropping it into Rina's garbage can. "Do you think TGR will keep the appointment this time?"

Rina frowned, transferring his mail into her recycling bin. "You're still in his calendar according to Rosario."

Rosario Hall was executive assistant to Matt's boss, David Purdue. Purdue was referred to by most, without affection, as TGR: the gorilla in the room. Matt considered the nickname appropriate for the silverback wannabe. The first two and a half years of Matt's employment with 4VisionRx—a small pharmaceutical company—had been pretty much the best of his career. Due to the small number of employees and relatively flat management structure, he'd been given opportunities usually not afforded to people of his age, especially without a PhD, and he'd delivered the goods. However, the good times had abruptly ended with Purdue's hiring.