One of the guys who was assembling parts from used bike chains gave Bryan a quick nod.
“Hey Joe,” Bryan said.
“Hey Boss Man,” Joe said.
“How’s the wife? Does Megan have her teaching degree yet?”
Joe nodded. “Just a few more months and she’ll be able to start working in the school district.”
“That’s fantastic. Keep me posted.”
As we walked away from Joe, I made a mental note that Bryan knew his employees’ wives’ names, and what they did for a living. If he were a jerk, it would be so much easier to dislike him, as I wanted to. But instead, it was getting harder to pretend he was nothing to me.
We popped into a quieter area with glass walls where a dozen people in white lab coats were doing the finishing work on the cufflinks, tie clips and money holders. “Looking good, guys. I’m psyched about the progress you’ve made this month. Make sure Delaney knows how you take your coffee or latte or whatnot. We’ll do a pick-me-up all around today from Stella’s,” he said, and I assumed Stella’s must be the local coffee shop.
There were some hoots and cheers as we left and headed to Bryan’s office on the second floor. His assistant, Delaney, cradled a phone receiver as she scribbled down elaborate notes. She was cute and perky, and had a librarian sexiness to her with black glasses and blond hair fastened in a bun.
Bryan held the door for me, and I followed him. His office was functional, but it didn’t scream overly masculine. I couldn’t stand those too mannish offices decked out in chrome and black that seemed to shout I am powerful. Bryan’s workspace was simple, with a large wooden desk, a gray couch, a navy blue chair, and a few framed awards on the wall. I checked them out; they were given by the Eco-Alliance. From the train, to the car, to his entire recycled line, he practiced what he preached, and I was impressed.
Another brick in my wall came down.
We chatted for the next hour about the manufacturing process, his distribution strategy and the supply chain challenges he’d been facing lately. Delaney knocked on the door, and then asked if it was time for the Stella’s run.
“The usual for me,” Bryan said. “Kat? You want something?”
“Just an iced tea would be great.”
Bryan tilted his head as if he were trying to figure me out. I was throwing him curveballs. He’d expected one thing from me, but I gave him another.
“And whatever you want of course, Delaney. And if you could see what the finishing crew wants as well,” he said, referring to the employees he’d promised the coffee to.
As she left, Bryan asked me more questions about My Favorite Mistakes and how I envisioned growing the business. The truth was I didn’t entirely know, and I admitted that. Soon, Delaney returned with the Stella’s run, carrying a cardboard drink holder with an iced tea and a coffee.
As she handed Bryan the coffee, I pictured her tripping and spilling it on his shirt and then fumbling through cleaning it up like on a bad sitcom. But she was graceful and poised. “I have the papers from the board on the Wilco termination,” she told him. “I’m just reviewing their comments and emailing them to you for your two p.m. call.”
“Great. Thank you. I look forward to reading them.” Delaney left, and closed the door behind her. “She’s very involved. Eager to learn. So she has a lot of responsibility,” he said to me, as if he felt the need to explain why Delaney was reviewing termination papers.
“So she’s clearly a lot more than just a minion,” I teased.
He laughed. “Definitely. But let me tell you this. Minions are overrated. Once you have them, they come in your office and want things.”
“Minion management. Never thought about that before.”
“Oh, it’s not like the old days when you could beat them with a cane.”
“I bet HR comes down pretty hard on you for that,” I said and that cracked him up. He sat down in his chair, still laughing and not paying close attention. Then, he spilled his coffee on himself.
Now it was my turn. “I’m so sorry for laughing,” I said in between big chuckles. “That was just so unexpected. It’s usually the other person who spills the coffee. You don’t usually spill it on yourself.”
His eyes widened. “Evidently, I’m the world’s biggest dork.”
“It didn’t burn you, did it?”
He shook his head as he stood up, placing the half-empty cup on the low table. The front of his white shirt was covered in a coffee-colored blotch. “No, it wasn’t that hot. I can’t stand the way some places make their drinks scalding, so Delaney always makes sure it’s a civilized temperature.”
He walked to a small closet in the corner of the office and took out a new shirt. “I guess I better change.”
“I’ll leave,” I offered, and started to rise.
“I don’t mind. Unless it makes you uncomfortable.”
Uncomfortable was not the word I’d use. More like turned on. When I looked over at Bryan, he was already unbuttoning his shirt, and I was quite simply rooted to my seat. If Channing Tatum were in the office taking off his shirt, I’d find it physically impossible to do anything else but stare at the spectacle of him undressing too. Bryan reached his cufflinks, and I watched as he deftly removed them, then laid them on top of a nearby bookshelf. He took off the shirt, and rested it on the back of a chair. He wore a white tee-shirt underneath.