Boss of Me

Cigarette ashes fell upon the hickory desk’s wooden finish like a hellish squall as Clyde Furro tapped a rhythm into the yellow side with his fingernail. His oversized black jacket didn’t quite match his dark gray trousers, but he didn’t quite mind. After humming the entirety of Basin Street Blues, Clyde threw the butt of his cigarette into the spit of coffee he had left sitting beside him. As he began to mumble the introduction of Jump, Jive, An’ Wail, he spun his chair to face his wall of books, none of which he’d read. They came with the room.

“Clyde?” A woman called from behind the closed door of the office. Clyde began to hum louder, and he put his loafer-wearing left foot atop his right knee. “I mean, Mr. Furro?” The voice increased in pitch, as if it were being whispered a joke. “Clyde—”

“The door’s open, doll.” Clyde waved his hand around in the less-than-transparent air prior to hearing the doorknob turn. He loosened his outdated red sweater-tie and turned himself towards the door.

The woman standing in the doorway, a slim, tan lady of about twenty-five, cast a contorted shadow over the center of Clyde’s desk, incapsulating him with her body. “I’m Lisa. I’m your new intern,” she inhaled subtly, “I don’t think you’re allowed to smoke in here, in the office building… I mean.”

Clyde stared at her and took out another cigarette from his jacket pocket. “Thanks for telling me, doll,” He placed it in between his teeth and set it ablaze with a flame hidden behind his right hand. “What’da’ya want, Lisa?” He said her name slowly, as if he were trying to sound out a foreign word.

Lisa stepped back slightly, holding the doorway with one hand and a stack of papers in the other. Her red strands of hair draped limply over her black-framed glasses. “I just wanted to introduce myself, and see if you had any work for me. I’ve had a good amount of training, and in my interview, Mr. Kopelis said that on the first day, I could—”

“Sit down, doll,” Clyde demanded as he gestured towards a brown leather chair in front of his desk. Lisa hesitantly strutted over to it, and placed the papers on her lap as she sat, hiding the shortness of her light-gray pencil skirt. She’d bought it at the uniform outlet, not expecting to regret it. Clyde wheeled his chair closer to her, practically leaning over the desk.

“So, Lisa,” He said her name again, like a dirty word, “why do you think you’re here?”

Lisa looked down at her papers. “I’d like to become a businesswoman. An entrepreneur.”

“Really?” Clyde snickered as he removed his ring from his finger and spun it on the desk’s surface, creating a golden, meaningless blur. “And what kind of company do you want to create, hon?”

Lisa looked at him directly in the eyes, and immediately broke the gaze by staring at the emerald wall to her side, which housed many framed documents. “Clothing.”

“Well, doll,” Clyde leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms, leaving his ring idle in front of him, “I hope you know that you’ll have to do more than sewing.” Lisa said nothing. “You see those pictures, hon?” He gestured to the framed documents, which were each in a silver or gold-colored frame. “I have my bachelor’s, my master’s, a few certificates, I had to work—”

“I’m an intern.”

“Alright, Lisa.”

“What do you want me to do?”

“Go fetch me another cup,” Clyde picked up his coffee mug and swayed it circularly, swishing around the remaining contents. “There seems to be a cigarette in this one.”

Lisa rose from the brown leather chair and took hold of the mug in her one available hand that was not holding papers. After turning the corner outside the doorway, she never returned. The secretary Mrs. Hines, informed Clyde Furro that Lisa had stuffed her key card into the coffee maker, breaking it before she left.

Allyson Kling is an author and poet from Bucks County, Pennsylvania. Her creative inspirations include those who have made her life better, worse, and continuous. Allyson has previously been published in Oddball Magazine, Life in Limbo Magazine, Rivot Magazine, among a few others.