Sentient

Sentient: Chapter Four

The meeting ran long past lunch time. I had to order in some food from the Filipino family restaurant downtown that’s one of Mr. Sandmoore and I’s favorites. We always order in from them whenever we have late nights and long meetings. They serve generously and nothing’s ever bland. 

“Thank you everyone. This has been very insightful and engaging for me. If any of you have any more concerns, feel free to bring it up to me. Meeting ends here.” Mr. Cavanaugh announces to the conference room as he stands up. He walks out of the room and I let myself stay behind.

“Everyone, there’s food coming in since we missed lunch, courtesy of our new boss. So stay back and enjoy.” 

“Wow, I didn’t even notice we missed lunch.” Sarah, from the Design team, exclaims as she looks at her phone for the time. “Woah, way past lunch. That was some meeting.”

Thomas from Tech agrees and gushes, “I know. I think nobody even went to the restroom. I’m glad we found a way to circle around the design conflict without having to argue. I kinda like the new boss.”

Their statements made a smile crawl across my lips before I went out of the conference room and passed by my desk to fetch Mr. Cavanaugh’s lunch and the minutes I printed from my laptop as soon as the meeting finished. 

Mr. Cavanaugh’s on his phone waiting for someone to pick up when I came in. I place the minutes of today’s meeting and his lunch on his desk before excusing myself silently. 

I sit at my desk and see Mr. Cavanaugh through the open blinds on his glass wall that was separating us, still on the phone waiting. He looks stricken yet still goddamn handsome. Shaking my head, I unravel my lunch before me—white steamed rice with four pieces of egg rolls, slices of roasted duck with crispy skin, and a side of oriental chicken noodles and mixed vegetables. 

My computer suddenly pings and a notification from my email pops up on the screen. It’s an email from Mr. Cavanaugh. 

From: dcavanaugh@lc&c.com

To: charlotteedwards@lc&c.com 

Thank you, Charlotte. 

In your debt, 

Darren Cavanaugh.

Co-Owner, Chief Executive Officer

Linus-Clyde & Cavanaugh

332 Park Ave South, NYC

I quickly type in a reply. 

To: dcavanaugh@lc&c.com 

Just doing my job, Sir. 

P.S. The meeting was very engaging for us too. I enjoyed it very much, Sir. 

Always at your service, 

Charlotte Edwards

Executive assistant to Mr. Alan Sandmoore

Linus-Clyde & Cavanaugh 

332 Park Ave South, NYC

Contact no: +1 (212) 509-6995

Just as soon as I send it, I immediately see my email signature and realize I haven’t changed it. I wince internally. So I go to the settings menu and change it.

“So am I going to get fired? Should I go pack up my bags?” Christie asks, popping beside me.

I choke on my egg roll, immediately grabbing my tumbler to push down the lodged piece of food in my throat. 

“Jeez Christie, are you planning to kill me?” I mutter as soon as I can manage. 

She lifts her index finger to make a point, “Hey. I spent the better part of my morning circling on my desk wondering if I needed to start looking for a new job and the rest actually looking for one. Put me out of my misery, will ya?” 

“Well, if you continue doing that and nothing of your actual current job, you might as well keep trudging down that lane.” I replied. 

Christie flicks my shoulder softly and I wince. 

I scowl at her before speaking, “Will you let me finish my egg rolls in peace if I tell you?” 

“I’ll even let you marry your egg roll if you tell me.” 

I laugh a little. “I told Mr. Cavanaugh to let you slide this time because you were just having a quick mental breakdown since your fiance left you at the altar for his best man two weeks ago.” 

Christie looks flatly at me. “Did you at least tell him I looked divine in my made-up wedding dress when my made-up fiance left me on our made-up wedding?”

“No, I told him you wore a burlap sack and that’s why your fiance left you for his best man, who wore a much better burlap sack.” 

“You are impossible, Charlie!” Christie prattles, finally giving up on our little banter. “Come on!”

I chuckle a little and then go back to my lunch. “You’re going to be fine, Christie.” 

“Phew!” She exclaims, then starts poking on my side teasingly. “Did you use a little Charlie charm on him to let me off the hook?”

“Oh please!” I cry, “No way in a million years. And I bet you, I’m not his type. If there’s anyone who’s going to catch that bird in this sky, it’s going to be you, Miss Former V-Secret Angel.”

“You think?” She asks, “You really think he’d go for me?”

“I do. If he’s the type who engages in office liaisons.” I reply in between bites. 

There’s no doubt Mr. Cavanaugh would like Christie. She’s perfectly within his league. Christie has that kind of beauty, you know—stop-eating hot, which as per our friend Joey Tribbiani, is the highest level of hotness. 

“Based on the things I heard from the suits down at sixteen, I wouldn’t put him past that. Although, Janette told me she saw him with a chica babe at a fancy restaurant last month.” 

That’s probably the one that texted him earlier in the coffee shop, before his face went all broodingly handsome. 

Maybe there was someone who brought the almighty casanova down to his knees. 

I knock at Mr. Cavanaugh’s glass doors before going in. “Is there anything you need, Sir?”

He looks up at me from the array of files sprawled across his desk, the ones he asked for earlier today. “Are you done for today?”

I smile and reply, “I’m here until you leave sir.” 

“You don’t have to wait for me, Charlotte.” He responds. “Do you do that for Alan?”

“I did. But I insisted on doing so, Sir.” I tell him, “I felt more productive if I hung out lest he needed me for something. Of course, if you need me for anything, Sir.”

His blue eyes sparkle underneath the dim light his lamp’s providing. The sky’s already pitch black outside his corner office glass windows but I don’t mind. I’m used to Mr. Sandmoore’s late nights as well. That man was a workaholic and most of the time he never realized the time.  

“Coffee, please. Then you may retire for the night.” Mr. Cavanaugh finally speaks up. 

I nod and leave his office, putting a black coffee capsule into the coffee machine and preparing a mug—a new one that I bought earlier in the day for him. 

I gather up the makings of my bag and freshen up my make up a little. Christie’s been bugging me to go out with her tonight ever since I told her she’s not going to get fired because of her little comment about Mr. Cavanaugh’s ass. I figure today’s worth celebrating since we both get to keep our jobs so I told her I’m going. 

The coffee finishes up and I bring it to him. He’s laid back on his chair, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“Thank you, Charlotte.” He says and looks at me. His eyes immediately brighten up as soon as he sees me remade-up. “Do you have plans for tonight?”

I nod. “Yes, sir.” 

“A boyfriend?”

“None of the sort.” I say, “Do you need me for anything else, sir?” 

He smiles, shakes his head, and jokingly says, “Get out of here.” 

I turn around to leave but decide to turn back around and say something to him. “If I may Sir, you need to take it down a notch. It’s just your first day after all. Those files aren’t going anywhere.”

He looks at me broodingly and like a bulb lights on beside his head, he says, “Would you like to buy me a drink?” 

*

I quickly text Christie that Mr. Cavanaugh will be joining us. He takes me to the basement parking and leads me to a black Audi Sedan—the latest A8 that just came out. 

He opens the passenger door for me and I slide in. This is definitely not how I thought my evening would go. Who am I to say no to the owner of the company I’m working for? We’re just starting our boss-assistant relationship and I couldn’t very well decline his offer. Besides, I think it’s appropriate to buy your new boss his celebratory drink on his first day of work especially when he asked you to.

I can’t lose this job yet, I’m two months away from clearing my mortgage and I need to at least save up after that. Besides, I love this job. 

“Where did you say your friend’s waiting?” Mr. Cavanaugh asks. 

I purse my lip and reply, “She’s at Oasis, downtown.” 

He nods and turns on the ignition with a switch. “I know that place.” 

“Do you go there often, Sir?”

He smiles. “I do. I own it.” 

I look at him in bewilderment, left without words. 

So that’s why all LC&C staff are half off. Huh.

We arrive at Oasis in half an hour and Mr. Cavanaugh hands his keys to the valet like it’s a normal thing for him—which is probably the case since he owns the place. 

He opens the door for me and leads me inside. Oasis was the more modest of all the bars. On most quiet nights like this, they play jazz music over the speakers on a mellow tone in the background. Although they play trap music on occasion as well. 

We scurry past different clusters of people, Mr. Cavanaugh said hello to most of them before we settled into a vip lounge on the balcony where there’s no one else but us. 

A waiter immediately follows and asks us for our drinks.

“Martini, please. Three olives.” I say to the waiter and he nods. Mr. Cavanaugh whispers into his ear and the waiter nods again.

Before he could leave to fetch our drinks, I hand him over my credit card. 

Mr. Cavanaugh looks at me questioningly. 

I tell him, “I said I’d buy you a drink.” 

“Would you now?”

I smile, “I don’t go back on my word, Mr. Cavanaugh. It’s my welcome gift for you.” 

“Aside from the mug?” He asks.

I chuckle lightly. “Yes, aside from the mug.” 

He smirks and gestures to the waiter. “The lady says so.”

The waiter sends us a quick smile and leaves us alone. I check my phone for any response from Christie and find nothing. Seconds after, a text message from her pops up on my screen. 

I think I’m coming down with something. Went home and now resting. Sorry hun, see u tomorrow. Kudos to you for bagging him on his first day at the office. Enjoy your night with Mr. Sexy CEO. xx 

My eyes widen in horror. How could she do this to me? I altogether thought I could survive this night because I knew Christie was going to be here with me! Now that she’s not, I begin growing conscious of my situation. 

“Is there something wrong?” Mr. Cavanaugh notices my expression and asks. 

I reply, “Christie can’t make it. She’s sick.” 

“I guess it’d be just the two of us.” 

I look away. “I guess so.” 

The waiter returns with our drinks. He places my martini in front of me, smiling courteously and does the same with Mr. Cavanaugh’s drink—a glass of Macallan 30 along with the entire bottle.

Shit. 

That bottle costs half my savings. 

“Thank you for the drink, Ms. Edwards.” He says, tipping his rock glass towards me and then taking a swig. I give him a forced smile.  

I take mine as well and do the same, bidding him cheers. Silence takes over our accommodation, although there’s a little of the jazz music seeping through the walls.

“So tell me, Charlotte.” Mr. Cavanaugh breaks the silence. “Is this your first job?” 

I purse my lips and then respond, “I worked in my family’s business after I graduated. My parents have a couple of modest restaurants in Vermont.”

“Really?” He asks, surprised. “So why did you decide to go your separate way?” 

I pause for a moment. I’ve never really talked about my family to anyone else before. Even Christie knows very little about them. She’s just aware of my warranted hatred against them but nothing specific really. 

“Let’s just say I don’t necessarily share the same vision as they do.” I reply with pursed lips. 

“I know what you mean.” Mr. Cavanaugh says. “Believe it or not, inheriting a multi-billion dollar company was never part of my plan.”

“So what? You wanted to be a pop star?” I joked. 

“Rock star, actually.” 

His answer made me smirk. I did not have him pegged as a rock star, with a rebellious t-shirt, eyeliner, black nails, and really long sultry hair.  It’s so far from his very well-mannered demeanor right now. 

“Forgive me, Sir. It’s a little hard picturing you as a rock star.” I say with a little laugh. 

He grins and takes a sip of his drink. “You should’ve seen me in high school. I had bangs.”

My mouth forms an O shape. “Oh you’ve got to let me see that!” 

“No way in hell.” 

I chuckle at his reply and say, “Aha! Very punk rock.” 

He laughs and I laugh with him. I’m starting to feel a little relaxed. I didn’t think Mr. Cavanaugh was this easy to entertain. I mean a multi-billion dollar company heir must’ve already seen everything there is to see in this world, how can a simple girl from Vermont like me make him laugh?

We settle into another quiet moment, both gaining our composure from the laughter. I take another sip of my martini as Mr. Cavanaugh finishes his whisky. 

“Your friend, Christie,” He starts.

Ah… here it comes, I think to myself. Most men befriend me to gain access to information about Christie. After all, between the two of us, she’s the catch. I was actually starting to think Mr. Cavanaugh wasn’t one of them, but I guess I’m wrong. 

“She was a Victoria’s Secret Angel for a while.” I told Mr. Cavanaugh, a little disappointment budding at the pit of my stomach. “Until she decided it’s much sexier to pursue an actual career other than modelling. She’s brains and beauty.”

He shrugs in realization. “So that’s why she looked familiar.”

I finish my martini and as if on cue, the waiter replaces our glasses with fresh, refilled ones. 

I’m waiting for him to continue asking questions about Christie but he doesn’t. 

“Have you ever been to the Philippines, Charlotte?” Mr. Cavanaugh asks out of the blue. 

I frown before replying, “No, sir. I haven’t been.”

“There’s this island there called Boracay and it’s like this little paradise away from the city. And everything there feels surreal.” He says, looking at a distance. “Makes me sad that I can’t go back there.”

“Why not?” I ask. 

“Uh—just because of work stuff.” He replies hesitantly, and then looks at me as if he's giving his final dying wish. A look so serious and unfeigned that all I can do is stare back. “Promise me you’ll put that on your list once you really venture out into the world.”