Hidden Boss

She stopped, and her eyes got huge. She looked at me, blinked, and then looked at me real hard.

Ohhh shit!

A nasty look took over her face. She pointed. "My office! Now Chris."

I was so busted! I could only hope she didn't use her dart on the real me.

I walked in and sat while she closed the door. She threw the work order on her desk. "I suppose I should thank you for this, if nothing else. We've needed it forever."

I nodded and tried to speak, "Caroline...!"

"Shut up! Don't you dare speak! What are you doing here in disguise like this? Don't lie to me again."

I winced at the word again! There was nothing I could do; she needed the truth.

"The company has agreed to do an episode of the TV program, Hidden Boss."

She nodded while sitting down. "The security upgrades! I thought that seemed like a lot of cameras for a security system. So we're doing all this for TV? I'm not sure I like that. I don't recall giving permission for us to be filmed."

"It's in your contract."

"So why my store? Is this some sick trick of yours to humiliate me again?"

"No, I had no idea you were here. Caroline, I...!"

"Shut the fuck up, you mealy-mouthed, lying, son of a bitch! I don't want to hear another word from you. I'll think about this and let you know what we're going to do. Until then, you do your work and don't speak to me again unless I speak to you. Otherwise, I'll tell the staff and blow your sneaky little project out of the water."

"Caroline...!"

"Get out of here!" she screamed.

I could see she was close to tears, so I went. Things were pretty cold between us for the next few days.

Finally, she called me back into her office. "So here's how it's going to be. You big shots at Head Office wants to know about our lives? You're going to do a story about the employee's real lives. Where do you go when you finish work?"

"To my hotel room."

"Which hotel?"

I shifted uncomfortably and admitted, "The Waldorf."

She picked up a sizeable brown courier envelope in front of her and shook it at me. "These are the paychecks for the staff, Chris. Why don't you show me which one of our staff could afford a night in a Five Star hotel like the Waldorf? Never mind the weeks you've been living there."

I didn't even have to look to know the answer was...no one, including her.

I shrugged helplessly. It's what the industry paid.

"So here's how it's going to be. This is non-negotiable. You're going to check out of that fancy hotel you're in. There's a vacant apartment right next door to me. You're going to take it and move in there. You're going to throw away all your credit and bank cards. You're going to live on your paychecks just like we do. You're going to use transit. And so on. No more fancy lifestyle, Mr. Big Shot. You live like one of us and suffer just as we do. And it goes on TV. You don't cut it out."

"They can fire you, you know."

"Yes, they can. Do you think I care? Freezing, baking, piss-poor pay. There are a dozen places in town that would hire me in a second with my experience and pay me more. I'm pretty sure there will be consequences to your career too, so go right ahead and fire me."

I had to admire her pluck. She was putting everything on the line.

"Alright," I agreed.

I think she expected more pushback; she looked shocked at the lack of negotiating.

"You'll do it all?"

"Yes."

"You don't need to talk to your boss?"

"Nope, it's my call." I didn't tell her I had already warned Franklin. And come clean about Caroline's and my past. Unexpectedly, he was amused but ready to move forward. He'd left it all up to me and wished me luck.

Then he gave me a piece of advice about women. He claimed there were two theories about dealing with women. Apparently, neither worked. However, one might be slightly better. He gave it a fifty/forty-nine/one percent chance. It was sort of fifty percent chance she'd shut me down and forty-nine percent chance she'd smack me, one percent chance she'd listen.

THAT didn't sound like great odds unless I caught her in the right mood. Then Franklin told me the story about how he and his wife had gotten together despite the fact she hated his guts when they first met. He laughed, reminiscing about all this. They'd be celebrating their Golden Anniversary soon.

I'd put down the phone staring at it. Franklin had a human side to him? A wife of fifty years who had hated him to begin with? Who knew?

After work, we took a taxi to the Waldorf. She looked around my room while I packed. "Wow, living the good life," she observed. After checking out, it was a long drive to her apartment building, which turned out to be on the seedy side of town. It wasn't an absolute slum, but close.

She banged on the Super's door. "Get your ass out here, George; I got a renter for you."

A fat slob showed up at the door, unshaven and scratching his belly where his filthy t-shirt didn't quite meet his track pants. He looked me up and down. "Okay, I'll show you the place."

It was dirty, badly needing paint. The fridge was making a God awful noise. When I looked inside, I doubted it had been cleaned properly in years. The toilet, sink and bathtub were just as bad. The place was a junker—nothing like the sleek and professionally decorated condo I had at home.

"So, twelve hundred a month and a five hundred dollar application fee," George told me. "Are you working?"

"He works with me," Caroline confirmed. "And cut the shit, George. Four hundred a month, and if you trot out that bullshit application fee again, I'll call the Chicago RLTO board and report you."

George grinned, showing his stained and missing teeth. "Ain't no cause to fight now, Caroline. You know I'd let fine piece like you live here rent-free if ya was a little more friendly," and winked at her suggestively.

I lost it.

I grabbed that filthy t-shirt and pinned the fat fucker up against a wall. "You ever treat my woman with anything less than total respect again, and I'll put you in the hospital, asshole. I'll take the apartment at four hundred a month. You stay the fuck out of our way. Hear me?"

"Okay, okay, buddy! No need to get hostile."

I signed the rental and got my keys. Caroline never said a word about that confrontation or the 'my woman' part of it; she just stared at me with a troubled look.

I felt kind of embarrassed. It had just popped out of me.

"So, what now?" I asked.

"I took the liberty of faxing an employment confirmation letter to a furniture rental place. You can get a bed, sofa and dining table for the short term."

Over we went and took care of that. The company couldn't deliver goods until tomorrow.

"You can sleep on my couch tonight," she offered. It was better than the floor.

I tried to take her out to dinner, hoping to get a chance to really talk, but no way. She wanted me to start living on my wages now. She did allow us to go to Walmart and me to charge bedding, dishes and a few other necessities. I couldn't be expected to buy that much for the short term on the wages I was getting. I was also allowed to buy enough food to last till the next payday.

When we got back with all our purchases, she put out her hand. "Wallet," was all she said.

I handed it over reluctantly. She left twenty bucks; the rest of my cards she locked in a small metal box.

"That has to last you," she warned. "Better buy a transit pass for the buses; otherwise, the daily cost will have you walking after five days."

She made us a simple dinner of spaghetti. We sat quietly, the tension in the air palatable. Afterward, she went to shower while I sat on the couch and watched a video. She couldn't afford cable.

The bathroom door opened, and Caroline walked out wrapped in a large towel. Time stopped for me, and I stared like I couldn't get enough. Under those clothes, she was gorgeous, just like I thought. I itched for the opportunity to sit with her, talk with her, straighten things out. But with a look of total disdain, she slammed the door to her room, making it very clear where I ranked in her world.

Early the next morning, we had breakfast and caught our bus. I found out there was a pecking order. She would sit alongside anyone with an open seat. I could sit anywhere else. If two empty seats were available together, the look I got when I went to sit next to her made it clear standing was a much better choice. So I stood.

She came over that night to help me set up the new furniture and unpack. I wasn't sure why. Socks and underwear went into the dresser I'd rented while she piled my shirts, suits and jackets on the bed. Finished, she walked over and opened the window, scooped up my clothes and tossed them all out.

"WHAT THE FUCK?" I spat at her, rushing to the window seeing my stuff settling on the sidewalk below. That was thousands of dollars worth of clothing.

"You wear those expensive clothes in this neighbourhood, Chris, and you'll get mugged before you get fifty feet. Better some other residents get them and distract the gangs from the new guy around here."

"So, what am I going to do for clothing?"

"We'll head for Goodwill tomorrow after work. Some good, clean, used clothing will keep your lying ass in one piece."

And so I got a new wardrobe from Goodwill.

Not that the new wardrobe made my lying ass any more desirable in her eyes.

She barely spoke to me at work. Over a month in and I'd made no progress with her.

**********

I never saw them coming. I was walking to the corner store when they piled out of an alley. A few quick blows and I was on the ground curled up holding my head while three of them kicked the shit out of me and picked my pockets.

I woke up in a world of pain at a hospital. Caroline was sitting at my side, reading a book.

"Well, you're a sight," she said, putting down her book.

"Bad?"

"Lots of bruises and contusions. Nothing broken. The doc says you'll be up and around in a few days."

"Did they catch them?"

She just chuckled and shook her head. "Nobody would ever rat them out. In our neighbourhood, you take your beating and shut up."

"How did you know it was me?"

"I heard all the commotion along with someone talking about the new guy. I figured it had to be you, sure enough!"

"Thanks for being here for me then."

"I'm here as your manager from work, Chris, and nothing else. Concern for an injured employee. Don't overrate yourself. They'll release you tomorrow to my care at home; I'll come by after work."

"Did you give them my medical card? It's in your box."

"Nope. You pay your bills the same way we would if we were hurt. The company doesn't provide its staff with medical insurance. They'll be by tomorrow to present you with the good news."

I groaned in disbelief. Really? But then how fair was it the company provided medical coverage to senior management and not staff?

"Goodnight, Chris. Get some sleep," she said and left.

The lady from the hospital's financial department was there bright and early, her oversized buckteeth grinning like a beaver. I couldn't help but wonder if she chewed down trees in her spare time.

I took one look at the bill and gasped, hurting my chest with the quick inhale.

Fifteen thousand dollars for a two-day stay? That was beyond ridiculous. Unfortunately for them, being the VP of Employee Relations, I was an expert at these charges. Allowable or not!

"So I see a three thousand dollar charge here for an MRI and a two thousand dollar charge for a chest X-ray. Did my companion give permission?"

"No, I don't believe so."

"The X-ray could have been extended to my skull to check for any need for an MRI. Besides, the charge for an X-ray is limited to five hundred dollars. That means you need to take off forty-five hundred from this bill. I also see a charge here for aspirin and a cup of water for five hundred. You know you're limited to medication costs, which for aspirin is negligible, and a twenty-five dollar service fee. You've overcharged me by four hundred and seventy-five dollars. I also see a lot of other mistakes here."

Bucktooth grinned like she wanted to kill me or chomp me. I wasn't sure where her mind was at. Plucking the bill from my hand, she said, "Perhaps they used the wrong chart making up your bill. Let me check on this and get back to you."

'Yeah, you do that,' I thought.

These doctors, hospitals and the big corporations that owned them nowadays were little better than criminal organizations counting on people's ignorance. Taking people's houses and life savings had become a growth industry for them. All so they could work less and play golf more. The good old country doctor working long hours because they wanted to take care of the sick and injured had disappeared under an assault from Corporate America. And greed. Plain old greed! It made me sick!

There was a recent [TRUE] case in the news where a toddler had shoved a Barbie doll shoe up her nose. Her parents took her to their doctor, who sent them to Emergency. In Emergency, the doctor, equipped with a slightly longer pair of forceps, had the shoe out in one second. The hospital admitted the cost of the whole procedure was $48. Yet billed the parent close to $2,000, and the doctor billed just under $1,000 for his role. $3,000 for a one-second procedure that most doctors would have laughed at and done for free in the past.

Those vastly inflated and unjustified over-the-top charges were why so many companies cannot provide medical coverage to employees.

Beaver-teeth came back an hour later with the bill whittled down to four thousand. It was still a lot, but what can you do.

"I can pay that off at one hundred fifty a month," I offered.

"No, we require you to pay it now," she spat back at me.

"No, I work at a minimum wage job, also I'm going to University in September. One fifty, or I declare medical bankruptcy, you'll get squat," I threatened.

Her face turned some rather fascinating colours of red, and I expected her to gnash her teeth.

"I'll prepare the papers for your signature when they discharge you."

Bastards!

Caroline picked me up and let me pay for a taxi home. It wasn't in my budget, but the bus sure didn't seem appealing. My face looked like I'd gone ten rounds being used as a punching bag, which wasn't far off the truth.

She insisted I stay at her place where she cooked me meals and washed, salved and changed bandages for the cuts and contusions. I thought that was strange. I was hurt but figured I was capable of looking after myself.

The first night she insisted I sleep in her bed while she'd take the couch. I blew up. We were both adults; she could sleep untouched on the other side of the bed. Otherwise, I was limping home.

I could have gone home. It was right next door. Carol should have let me go home, given her hostile attitude toward me. Instead, she put on some flannel pyjamas in the bathroom and crawled into bed without another word. I lay there staring at the ceiling, praying for the strength to keep my promise. It was definitely a case of being careful what you ask for. I wanted nothing more than to pull her into my arms and cuddle her.

Oh yeah, right, cuddle! Who was I kidding?

What I really wanted was to pull her closer. Kiss those gorgeous lips until they gave in and kissed me back. Make love to her for hours until her loving eyes told me she'd forgiven me. She was mine.

MINE!

She wasn't a quiet sleeper. She kept bouncing around the bed, gradually closing in on me till she ran up against me. Then she wormed her way against me until we were spooning. With a deep sigh of contentment, she settled down. She'd managed all this while sleeping.

That is, she was asleep. I was lying there bowed slightly away from her, trying not to let a steel-hard erection press up against her. I hope she got a good night's rest.

Me, yeah, not so much! It was a long time before I finally dozed off.

When I woke up in the morning, we were cuddled front to front, my arm flung over the top of her and her gorgeous eyes staring directly into mine. Worse, her hand was in my boxers, slowly stroking my iron-hard erection. It didn't take much imagination to figure out what had roused me.

"Pretty respectable," she said. "Pity we didn't get to make love that night. I would have you know. It's not something I normally do."

Moaning, I closed my eyes and nodded my head.

"Oh well, we won't get to today either," she said, bouncing out of bed, abandoning my poor dick.

"By the way, sorry about last night. I'm a bit of a heat seeker."

'Tell me something I don't know,' I thought, left there with a massive hard-on while she hit the shower.

She made me work in the back of the store and generously gave me easy jobs to do. I was still in a lot of pain, but she didn't want my battered face scaring the customers. I should have stayed home, but my budget was already going to be shot with the time I missed in the hospital. Add in the medical repayment, and I would be living on air by the end of the month.

If I could afford the internet, a person could look up some recipes for preparing air.

Maybe if I had cable TV, there would be a show 'Cooking Air with Julia.' That had a nice ring to it. Yummy dishes, for sure!

I got the boot from her apartment after two days. I hope she had some regret. There wasn't a night she didn't end up spooned with me. She slept like a baby and woke up to tease my poor erection until I awakened.

Me, I was tired, grumpy and hornier than a three-peckered Billy Goat.

But if she'd asked, I would have gone back to her place in a heartbeat, solely for the privilege of holding her close for those few hours. Hours during which I could imagine what our lives might have been like had I not been so careless.

My eternal regret!

The excrement hit the rotating machine two days later. I wasn't sleeping. Visions of holding her in my arms kept me awake half the night. I was even grumpier.

I wanted her. I needed to tell her that. And explain something. Whether she wanted to listen or not!

And then inspiration struck. I kicked my ass for not thinking about it sooner. Larry often worked from home during the day; Emily was a housewife. Maybe, just maybe!

I took an early lunch and went out to do some important errands. When I got back, I took a deep breath. It was time for a confrontation.

I stormed into her office and slammed the door.

Her immediate response was angry, "Get the hell out of my office, Chris!"

"Nope, I'm the VP here. You're going to sit down and listen."

She got an even snarlier look on her face while I grabbed her desk phone and dialed. Praying to the gods above for mercy, I punched the speaker button. Please, please, please be home! This needed to be spontaneous for her to believe it.

"Hello."

"Larry, it's Chris."

"Hey, buddy. Long time no hear from. Are you in Chicago?"

"I am."

"Great, let's get together; Emily and I would love to see you."

"I'd love to see you too. I have some special news."

His voice perked up. "You finally gonna tie the knot with some poor, unsuspecting woman? We'll need to warn her."

"Well," I admitted, "the jury is still out on that one. But I found her."

He was quiet for a few seconds thinking.

"Found her," he said hesitantly. "Do you mean the girl from my stag? Ahhhhh Carol...Carol...no...?"

"Caroline," I prompted.

"Yeah, Caroline. You found her?"

"I did."

"OMG buddy, the amount of time we spent looking for that slip of paper with her phone number. We tracked down the taxis to see if they found that paper when cleaning the cars out. We went back to the clubs, hoping to find her again—all in the middle of trying to get a wedding done. I've never seen you so devastated over a girl. You know you owe us for the next fifty years for the hours we put in searching for her right in the middle of our wedding preparations, right?"