Grumpy Boss by Hamel, B. (best non fiction books to read TXT) 📗

“It’s good to see you, dude,” Kirk said. “Holy shit, brother, what’s it been? Ten years? My god, you got old as fuck.”

“You did too,” I said, extricating myself from his embrace. “But you look good.”

“Hey man, living the dream, you know?” He laughed and slapped his hand down on a board next to him. It rattled against the others in its stack. “Can you imagine me out here, man? Last you saw, I was some hardware monkey, you now? Crawling around fixing computer. Did I ever tell you that I lost feeling in the tip of my left index finger from getting shocked so much?”

“I didn’t know that,” I said.

He laughed and draped an arm around my shoulder. I regretted doing this.

“What can I do for you, man? You in town or something?”

“Something like that,” I said, and he steered me over to the cash register. He went behind the counter, mercifully letting me go, and stooped down to grab a bottle of vodka and two little glasses.

He poured drinks, held up his glass, and threw it back. Millie walked over, and I took my shot, more out of politeness than anything else. It was cheap and burned all the way down.

“Who’s this?” he asked, nodding at Millie.

“Kirk, this is my assistant Millie,” I said. “And Millie, this is an old friend of mine.”

“Nice to meet you,” she said, giving him a very good smile. They shook hands and he held up the bottle.

“You want one?” he asked.

“No, thank you.”

“Your loss.” He poured himself a drink, offered me one, which I declined. He shrugged, drank, poured another, but sipped that one. I got a sudden and intense image of his life for the last decade: living out in San Fran, barely making ends meet in this rundown surf shop, drinking his days away, single and managing to survive, but not thriving. I wondered how Des fit into all this, but decided to take it slow.

“I’ve been reliving some old memories lately,” I said. “Let me ask you something. When you left, you went out of loyalty to Desmond, right?”

“Ah, shit, man,” he said. “I mean, yeah, of course. I knew I wasn’t ever going to make that kind of money anywhere else, and I liked the work. But I couldn’t abandon him when he was the one that brought me in, you know?”

“That strangely makes me feel better,” I said.

“Why’s it strange?” Millie asked. “Or is it just strange for you to have human emotions?”

Kirk laughed at that and I gave her a look. She grinned right back.

“He’s always been like this,” Kirk said. “Good old Rees. Robot Rees, Des used to say.”

I flinched and rubbed at my face. “I forgot about that.”

“Oh my god,” Millie said. “Robot Rees! I’m going to use that.”

“Please, don’t,” I said.

“Oh no, do it, he loved it back then. Really leaned into the robotic thing. I mean, we were a tech start up before those were a thing.” Kirk finished his drink, but didn’t pour another. “Those were good days, man. I’ve got some stories if you want to hear them, Millie.”

“Yes, please,” she said. “Absolutely, yes. Take another drink then start talking.”

He grinned at her and shook his head. “I don’t need to get drink to tell embarrassing stories about this guy.”

“How about you talk about what you’ve been doing since then instead,” I said, and rapped my knuckles on the counter. “Is this your shop?”

“Oh, yeah, man. I bought it a while back, before prices got insane out here. I own the whole building. It’s pretty wild.” He leaned back against the wall behind him, arms over his chest. “I live in the back, and rent out a couple units up top. They bring in all the money, honestly. The shop’s more like a hobby.”

“Good for you,” Millie said. “I always wanted to surf.”

“If you’re gonna be around, I can take you both out,” Kirk said, gesturing toward the boards. “I got plenty of stuff we can use.”

“Actually, I was hoping I could talk to you,” I said before Millie could take him up. There was no way in hell I was going surfing—although I wouldn’t mind seeing her in a wet suit.

“Sure, man, sure,” Kirk said, glancing toward the entrance like he expected someone. “What’s up?”

“Desmond,” I said, watching his face for any tell. He glanced down at the ground, and wouldn’t meet my gaze. “I need to talk to him. Do you know how I can get in touch?”

“Oh man,” Kirk said. “Uh, I wish I could help, I really do, but I haven’t seen Des in ages. I mean, we left together, but we lost touch over the years, you know?”

“Really?” Millie asked. “Then how come there’s a picture of you and him on your wall over there?” She pointed at the framed photographs, and I had the sudden urge to kiss her on the mouth and make her my wife.

“Uh,” Kirk said, face turning red. “It’s an old one. Years ago.”

“It’s dated,” she said. “Last year.”

“Come on, Kirk,” I said. “You’re lying and that makes me very suspicious.”

“Don’t do this to me,” he said, holding his hands up. “Des is—you know how Des can be. I don’t want to get involved.”

“We know you’ve been feeding stories to the press,” Millie said, leaning toward him. “And we know you’re doing to for Des. We just want to know why.”

“Fuck,” he said, squeezing his eyes shut. He reached forward, grabbed the bottle, and poured another drink. He offered me one, and I accepted. Maybe I felt bad for him, or maybe I wanted to try and soften him up, I wasn’t sure. I took the shot and felt it burn all the way down.

“I’m not going to make this hard,” I said, speaking slow and even. “All I want is a number. I’ll even take an email address.”

He wouldn’t look at me. He kept staring down at his hands, then the floor, then the door, and I