Sentient

Sentient: Chapter Three

“Can I get an espresso and a latte?” 

I hand over the company card to the cashier and wait for her to punch my order before going to the side counter and waiting there. 

I am not going back to our table. I am going to prolong this wait as much as I can so that I would not have to undergo such awkwardness with my handsome boss any second longer than I have to. This is a promise to myself.

In no less than two minutes, the cashier handed me my drink with a smile. I ask, “Are you sure you got my order right?” 

“It’s an espresso and a latte.” she replies and sends me a confused look, like her response was self explanatory of the point she wanted to make. 

I breathe in a deep breath and bid her a quick thanks and look down on my tray. 

  Sweet mother of Jesus, is there anything I can put on these drinks that can justify a thirty-minute wait at this counter?

Why did Christie have to comment on Mr. Cavanaugh’s ass? And why did he have to hear it? This is so embarrassing. If I didn’t get fired when Mr. Sandmoore left, I’m sure I would be now. God, I don’t know when’s the last time I was this nervous.

“What’s taking you so long?”

I jump in surprise, looking beside me and see that Mr. Cavanaugh is searching my face for an answer. Immediately, I take three packs of creamer and smile at him. “Nothing.”

I took our tray to the table, which he offered to do but then I refused. I’m the assistant after all… his assistant. I do stuff like this for Mr. Sandmoore all the time. I guess I’m just gonna have to base on what I did for Mr. Sandmoore before to possibly survive catering to Mr. Cavanaugh.

“Were you like this with Alan?” Mr. Cavanaugh asks, pulling me out of my reverie. 

I look at Mr. Cavanaugh in confusion. 

“Or is it just because of what your friend said?” He says, c*****g his head to the side as he takes a sip of his espresso. 

“I’m really sorry about that Mr. Cavanaugh, it was extremely inappropriate—”

“Hey,” He protests, putting the cup back onto the saucer. “It’s no big deal. No one’s going to be punished for complimenting my ass, Ms. Edwards. Actually, may I call you Charlotte?”

“Charlie’s fine.” I say, “Mr. Sandmoore calls me Charlie.” 

“I like Charlotte better.” he responds with a smile. “So Charlotte, the reason we’re here is because I need your help.” 

“That’s my job, isn’t it?” 

“The thing is, you already know the people in your team. Alan did, you did, and everybody else knows each other. A well-oiled machine if you will. But I don’t and I need your help transitioning into the team without disrupting the flow.”

I smile at Mr. Cavanaugh, my nerves are calmer now. “I’m here to help you in any way I can, Sir.” 

“I would tremendously appreciate that, Charlotte.” He replies. 

I take a sip of my latte and purse my lips, “If I may sir,”

He nods attentively at me and I take this as a sign to continue. “This team already knows what they’re doing. You just have to listen to them and provide insights whenever you see fit. Believe or not, they actually like constructive criticism—in fact, they revel in it. It means you’re listening.”

“I see.” He responds, “And what about quality?”

“Oh you don’t have to worry about that Sir, these people are geniuses.” I quickly replied. “They can literally turn flour into a sandwich.” 

Mr. Cavanaugh looks at me with a confused look on his face. 

“Don’t worry sir, you’ll see what I mean soon enough.” I assure him, “Do you mind if I run you today’s itinerary?”

“Go ahead.”

“This was supposed to be Mr. Sandmoore’s schedule, so I thought you’d like to hear it.” I say before taking out my planner. “There’s a meeting with the Tech team in an hour and with the design team after that but they’re voicing out different concerns conflicting one another so do you want me to put them together?”

“What do you think?” 

I bite my lip for a moment, “I think it’d be wise to merge that meeting so both teams can listen while they pitch their concerns. That way they can both address them accordingly and discuss altogether any matter that doesn’t meet their benchmark.” 

He nods and finishes off his espresso. “I agree. Do that.”

Suddenly, his phone receives a text message. He looks at it briefly and then his eyes darken, mirroring the offending clouds warning to rain outside. 

He pockets his phone and puts his index finger on his lips, thinking pensively. 

“Do we have anything in the afternoon?” 

I look down at my planner and then back up at him. “Nothing I can’t handle on my own, sir.”  

He nods but it’s apparent that his mind was somewhere else. I’m pretty certain it’s because of the text message he received. Maybe it belonged to his girlfriend. Does he have a girlfriend though? All I’ve heard from rumors’ that he can’t stay too long with a girl. He meets them and come weekend, he ditches them. 

“Would you like something on-the-go sir?” I ask, stuffing my planner into my bag. 

“No, thank you.” He replies. “Tell me, Charlotte, how long have you been with the company?”

“On the fifteenth next month, it will be my second year anniversary.” I reply with a smile. “Mr. Sandmoore was kind enough to pick me out of the very competent lot in the interviews.”

“Well, with what I’m seeing, I believe he made the right choice.” 

I smile at him modestly. “I hope so, Sir.”

Mr. Cavanaugh seems like a decent man. The stories I’ve heard about him didn’t do him justice. If he really was the casanova people were deeming him to be, then he should’ve already hit on me by now. So far, he’s been professional at least. He dresses really well too. 

A blond waitress then passes by our table, serving a customer on our right. Mr. Cavanauh’s eyes follow her figure and then linger on her ass, causing me to roll my eyes.

There’s the casanova everyone’s talking about.