Autocorrected to the Boss

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Autocorrect sent my boss a question I never typed.

The first kiss?

What I meant to ask was: the first one?

He typed from three in the morning until seven. 99+ missed calls. Twenty unread messages. The last one said: [Margot Hale. Downstairs. NOW.]

And later I found out that this man, the one a single typo drove insane, was the boy I used to cry about marrying when I grew up.

He lost his mind.

Boss From Hell: [Miss Hale. I insulted your slide deck. Twice. That hardly warrants this.]

Boss From Hell: [You look at this face every day. Losing your grip is understandable. But I am a decent man.]

Boss From Hell: [Keep your thoughts professional. This company does not run on favors.]

Boss From Hell: [Why aren't you answering.]

Boss From Hell: [...Actually, those decks weren't that bad.]

Boss From Hell: [Where are you.]

Boss From Hell: [Have you given up on your career entirely?]

Boss From Hell: [...Fine. I'll fix the decks myself.]

Boss From Hell: [If you want it that badly. I suppose I could let you kiss me. Once.]

Boss From Hell: [Do you want a boy or a girl?]

Boss From Hell: [Why aren't you answering ME.]

Boss From Hell: [Playing hard to get?]

Boss From Hell: [One word. I'm asking for one word.]

Boss From Hell: [...Did you send that to the wrong person?]

Boss From Hell: [WHO are you kissing.]

Boss From Hell: [Answer me. Answer me.]

Boss From Hell: [You're not kissing someone RIGHT NOW, are you?!]

Boss From Hell: [SAY SOMETHING.]

Boss From Hell: [Margot Hale. Downstairs. NOW.]

The next morning I scrolled through that wall of unread messages, and my brain simply stopped working.

Chapter 1

25:61 in the morning.

Boss From Hell: [Miss Hale. You promised me those decks today. Do you know what time it is?]

Yes. I checked. Home from my best friend's party, shoes still on.

Who chases a deadline at this hour. Is he even a person.

I forced my eyes open and sent Julian Lockhart the decks.

Julian Lockhart is my boss. Obsessive, perfectionist, a professional pain in the ass. Every deck he touches, he shreds until I'm bald.

So this time I built three versions. Surely one of the three would land.

It didn't take long.

Boss From Hell: [Miss Hale. Are we going for quantity now?]

Boss From Hell: [You want me panning for gold in a toilet at two in the morning?]

Boss From Hell: [Filename: Premium_Corporate_Template_FINAL?]

Boss From Hell: [Ah. A gold rim on a bedpan.]

Boss From Hell: [Miss Hale, are you on shrooms? This is unhinged.]

Boss From Hell: [The concept here is excellent. Change all of it.]

Boss From Hell: [Make the black more colorful.]

Boss From Hell: [Miss Hale. What exactly goes on inside your head?]

Body temperature normal. Sanity slipping.

Back when the mail took a week, you could go your whole life without meeting a lunatic. Now we have technology. I can lie in my own bed and get a headache from a dumbass a thousand miles away.

More colorful black. I'll give you a rainbow-colored turd, sir.

And the dog never says which deck.

One bar of battery left. Teeth grinding, I typed.

Me: [The first one?]

No reply came. The screen went black and the phone shut itself off.

I was wrecked. I plugged in the charger and went under.

Screw it. I quit.

I woke up and turned on my phone.

My slacking buddy's call came through first.

"Mags. You finally picked up. Do you know what time it is? Lockhart wants you in his office."

He can go straight to

And then I remembered. My bank account couldn't cover one cup of the hand-ground coffee that man drinks every morning.

"Copy that."

Another day woken up by being broke.

I looked at the time. Eight thirty.

Fine. I stayed out late. But is the 9 a.m. completely blameless in all this?

My slacking buddy kept going.

"He came in with circles under his eyes you could park a car in, and the face of a man who did not get what he wanted last night. Anything with a pulse got kicked on his way to the elevator. Somebody set him off and nobody knows who. And you picked today to be late?"

Then it came back to me. Last night. Around two in the morning. He'd asked for the decks.

I looked at my phone.

Chapter 2

Boss From Hell. 99+ missed calls.

Boss From Hell. Twenty unread messages.

This was bad.

My thumb was shaking when I opened the thread.

The last message said: [Margot Hale. Downstairs. NOW.]

Downstairs? Did he actually come to my building last night?

My phone died and I was tired. That's it. I didn't commit a crime.

I jumped to where the unread started.

Boss From Hell: [???]

I scrolled up to what came before it and felt brain cells die.

Boss From Hell: [Make the black more colorful and send it back.]

Boss From Hell: [Miss Hale. What exactly goes on inside your head?]

Me: [The first kiss?]

I widened my mascara-caked eyes and read it again.

I had sent him the words: the first kiss.

God help me. I meant the first one.

Then I read what he sent after that, and it got so much worse.

Boss From Hell: [Miss Hale. I insulted your slide deck. Twice. That hardly warrants this.]

Boss From Hell: [You look at this face every day. Losing your grip is understandable. But I am a decent man.]

Boss From Hell: [Keep your thoughts professional. This company does not run on favors.]

Boss From Hell: [Why aren't you answering.]

[Boss From Hell is typing...]

Boss From Hell: [...Actually, those decks weren't that bad.]

Boss From Hell: [Where are you.]

[Boss From Hell is typing...]

Boss From Hell: [Have you given up on your career entirely?]

Boss From Hell: [...Fine. I'll fix the decks myself.]

Boss From Hell: [If you want it that badly. I suppose I could let you kiss me. Once.]

Boss From Hell: [Do you want a boy or a girl?]

Boss From Hell: [Why aren't you answering ME.]

[Boss From Hell is typing...]

Boss From Hell: [Playing hard to get?]

Boss From Hell: [One word. I'm asking for one word.]

[Boss From Hell is typing...]

Boss From Hell: [...Did you send that to the wrong person?]

Boss From Hell: [WHO are you kissing.]

Boss From Hell: [Answer me. Answer me.]

[Boss From Hell is typing...]

Boss From Hell: [You're not kissing someone RIGHT NOW, are you?!]

Boss From Hell: [SAY SOMETHING.]

Boss From Hell: [Margot Hale. Downstairs. NOW.]

[Boss From Hell is typing...]

[Boss From Hell is typing...]

[Boss From Hell is typing...]

After that, those three little dots lit up and died and lit up again, from three in the morning until seven.

I went numb.

I called my best friend for help.

"Girl. I'm a dead woman. What is wrong with my boss."

She made a sound like a goose being stepped on.

"Stop, I'm dying. Maybe he ate that rainbow-colored turd of yours all night and it filled him right up.

"You mistype one word and the man runs a whole soap opera in his head.

"Margot. Your boss isn't secretly in love with you, is he?"

Chapter 3

I rubbed my aching head.

"No chance."

Julian Lockhart looks like a gentleman. His heart is pitch-black.

The company was his father's. Julian took it over and started cutting people, and half the easy jobs went with them. Everyone kept their heads down.

Overtime became the weather.

And me, the unlucky secretary, did everything for that man except sleep with him.

Plenty of women in the building wanted the job. When he first arrived, one of them went up to his office in a slip dress and a whole lot of courage.

He shoved her off him like she was on fire.

Then he turned on me, rabid.

"Miss Hale. What exactly are you letting through that door?"

Me: ???

"Can we standardize the dress code in this building.

"Some of you dress like we're running a strip club. Some of you dress like the economy collapsed in 1984.

"Take Miss Hale. Dressed like a dumpster fire at work, like a femme fatale after five."

Me: ???

What did I ever do to him?

Like these clowns and this man deserve me waking up early to put on a face.

Julian Lockhart. God gave that man a perfectly good mouth.

Other cities have their East Coast old money and their West Coast tech royalty. Corporate America got the reigning king of trash talk.

No filter on earth could save him.

My stomach was in knots all the way to work.

My best friend laid it out for me over the phone.

"Relax. There are only two outcomes. Either your boss is into you, and you marry up and Cinderella your way out of debt.

"You've been single since birth. Have you ever even been held by a man?"

The train pulled in and another herd of corporate cattle packed in behind me. Someone's shoulder drove my elbow into the phone of the guy beside me, who was mid-hand on a poker app and now, thanks to me, all in.

"Please. I get held by all kinds of men every morning on the 9 a.m."

Besides. Julian Lockhart, into me?

Has he lost his mind?

"Worst case, you offended him and you pack up your desk," she said, comforting me.

"Chin up. Cream rises anywhere, bestie."

Thanks. Really.

My slacking buddy gave me a look that said godspeed.

I picked up a coffee and knocked on his door.

"Come in."

His voice had gone rough.

He looked wrecked.

Must have been up all night fixing my three decks.

Serves him right.

"Mr. Lockhart. Your coffee."

I set it on the desk and kept my eyes down.

"It's bitter."

Oh, is it. Try my life.

"I'll do better next time."

The professional smile went on. Then I went for it, carefully.

"Mr. Lockhart. About yesterday."

He cleared his throat.

"Another cup."

What.

I turned around and ground him another one.

Like I said. The dog drinks coffee every single day, and it has to be hand-ground.

I ground the beans. I cursed him the whole time. Then I carried it back.

Drink up, my liege.

The cup was empty before I could take a step back.

"Mr. Lockhart." I opened my mouth.

"Another cup."

Me: ???

"Of course."

I smiled through my molars.

Half an hour later.

"Another cup."

The grinder was about to throw sparks. My arm was dead. My bicep had visibly grown.

Four iced americanos before nine in the morning. The dumbass wasn't afraid of the runs.

I set the fifth one on his desk.

Then I couldn't take it anymore, and I got there first.

"Sir. When I texted you last night, I made a typo."

His hand stopped halfway to his mouth. He looked up like I'd shot him.

"You said. What."

"Last night. I meant to ask if it was the first one, and it came out as the first kiss."

I held the smile together.

Then I couldn't help asking.

"But what were you doing outside my building?"

He cleared his throat, took the coffee, swallowed half of it, and answered with no expression at all.

"I was reminding you to keep your mind on your work."

"Then what did you mean, you'd let me kiss you. Once."

I was still fogged in, so I pushed.

He cleared his throat again, cold as an executive.

"That. My cat stepped on the screen. Don't read into it."

Chapter 4

Since when does he have a cat?

"Oh. And here I was, saying I'd think about it."

I muttered it under my breath. Like I really thought I'd Cinderella my way out of anything.

He sat straight up.

"Think about what?"

"Nothing."

If Julian Lockhart actually liked me, that's on his eyesight.

Because since the day I started, my greatest contribution to this company has been damage.

This week I booked a car for the firm's biggest client and accidentally ordered him a carpool.

Last week I booked the flights backward. Economy for my boss. First class for me.

The week before that I was driving him somewhere, he got one leg in the car, I hit the gas, and he learned the splits.

The week before that I made a meme out of the worst photo ever taken of him and posted it to the company-wide Slack.

Afterward he told me it was better if I just sat quietly and did nothing.

Morning standup. Julian roasted the room, as he does daily.

Three department heads studied the carpet.

I did what I always do. Texted my best friend under the table. Ate the fruit platter.

Bestie: [You're this bad at your job and he still hasn't fired you. Why do you think that is?]

Me: [Because I'm cheap.]

You get what you pay for. I want him to understand what cheap buys.

Bestie: [Say what you want, that man has the whole brooding CEO face going on. You've never once thought about it?]

Julian Lockhart, brooding.

Please.

Last month a rival firm took a project out from under him. He swore for two straight hours and never repeated himself once.

And when that wasn't enough, he sent me into their building to cut their ethernet, kill the breaker, and swap the lucky bull statue in their lobby for an inflatable tube man.

Me: [You ever see a mule fall in love with the whip?]

I snuck a cherry tomato off the platter and kept typing.

She wrote back.

Bestie: [What if the whip is, you know. On the longer side.]

Me: ...

Every thought I had went straight into the gutter.

I snuck a look at his suit pants.

That man. Well stocked.

I swallowed, and bit down on the tomato.

Then I lost control of it. The seeds went airborne.

Dead center. Straight into his crotch.

Julian was mid-tirade. He stopped talking.

Three department heads stopped studying the carpet at the same instant. Somebody's pen hit the table and nobody picked it up.

Nobody breathed.

He looked down at his own pants. Then he looked up at me.

I lowered my head, shaking.

I'm sorry. I've learned. Please.

No more cherry tomatoes for me.

I palmed a handful of blackberries instead and shoved them in my mouth.

"We're done."

His voice went cold. I started to slide out of my chair.

"Miss Hale. Stay."

I lifted my head and put the smile on.

"Sir."

His eyebrows knitted together.

"Miss Hale. Are we doing a villain arc today?

"Would you wipe your pitch-black mouth off before you speak to me."

Me: ...

"Yes, sir."

"Miss Hale. I've moved your desk."

He said it without moving a muscle in his face.

I stared at him.

"Moved it. Where?"

"Next to mine."

Kill me.

What have I done to deserve this life.

Bestie: [HAHAHA that's what you get for slacking where he can see you.]

She would not stop.

Me: [If I can't get handsy with my phone at work, am I supposed to get handsy with my boss?]

She fired back instantly.

Bestie: [Honestly? That ass of his looks extremely handsy-able.]

Bestie: [Go on. Get a feel for it.]

I glanced up.

Julian Lockhart was standing behind my chair.

Close enough that I could hear him breathing. One hand on the back of my seat, not touching me. I did not turn around.

"Miss Hale."

I jolted so hard my knee hit the desk.

He'd changed his pants. Charcoal gray.

For a second he didn't say anything at all.

"You got the last pair dirty," he said quietly.

My fingers went for the screen and missed.

"My bad."

His eyes dropped to my screen.

Chapter 5

"Miss Hale. Keep your thoughts professional. I am a decent man."

Me: ...

He backed all the way up, like I might get handsy with him right there at my desk.

The dog moved me next to him so he could watch me.

Now I have to slack in secret.

Scrolling on my phone, I found the thirst trap my best friend had sent me. The way that boy moved his hips.

"Miss Hale."

Hell. Caught again.

"I was looking for inspiration. Who even pushes this stuff to me," I said, laughing like a broken machine.

"You can hit not interested."

His voice came out of a crypt.

"Of course."

I liked the video.

Remember this, phone. I am extremely interested.

Then I posted a few things to my story. Custom audience: Boss only.

[A boss who spends money on his employees will live a longer life.]

[Boss makes money, employee spends it. Ninety-eight years, minimum.]

[A boss who takes care of his people has smooth sailing in all things