The Plan by Qwen Salsbury

his hand, and I shake it. “You also must think I’m terribly morbid, benefitting from the misfortune of others.”
    My mouth opens, but I don’t really even know what to say. Out of the loop here.
    Madeline rolls closer to me and whispers conspiratorially, “We have a betting pool for how long Canon’s assistants last.”
    My head pulls back. That is rather cold-hearted. Bert fans through several large bills.
    Cold-hearted…and profitable. I have loans to pay. Shoes to buy.
    Heels on Deals. Pumps before Chumps.
    “How does this work?” I ask, but suddenly everyone seems to have heard some cue that I’ve missed. They straighten and begin a flutter of activity.
    Self-preservation instincts are not kicking in; I stand up to see what’s going on. I imagine that I stick out like a sore, red thumb over the tops of everyone else.
    That is when I see him.
    Whoever he is.
    Except, I know.
    I just know.
    Oh, my good God.
    There are not enough words.
    Beautiful.
    Ineffable.
    Utterly F-able.
    He’s a few feet from a set of large, dark wooden doors in the far corner. The desk outside that office is empty. He moves smoothly past it and scans the room.
    His eyes fall on me. I’m incapable of movement under his gaze. Held. Matador. Bull.
    He straightens his collar, never falters in his long strides. Looks away from me.
    And then he’s gone.
    Everyone resumes their normal lives and conversations, and I’m left standing still and dumbstruck while the world happens around me.
    S HAKING F REE O F T HE M EMORY , I speed the treadmill up.
    I will feel better for this. Definitely. Maybe. Definitely maybe.
    I sit at work all day and study all night. It’s not going to do me any good to finish school if I keel over dead.
    Runs in the family.
    This is the problem with treadmills. Too much time to think.
    6:00 a.m.
* Breakfast : Arrived 15 minutes ago. Gone.
* Hair : French twist.
* Clothes : Beige suit. It’s like keeping a little piece of my room with me all day.
* Coffee : Blue Mountain Jamaica. Freshly brewed. Go, me.
    C ANON’S B REAKFAST A RRIVES as I exit my room. The server smiles at me; he knows he’ll be getting a stellar tip for splitting the delivery.
    He knocks, and the door opens as if by magic. I duck in behind the cart, hot coffee in hand. Not that I have to sneak in. I have a key.
    Clangs emanate from the bathroom while the table is set up, and I make quick work of the sugar and cream.
    “Will there be anything else, sir?” The server speaks loudly to a closed bathroom door.
    Canon dismisses him with something muffled I can’t quite make out. There hasn’t been any water running. I don’t really know what I will encounter when that bathroom door opens. He may be fully clothed.
    He may regenerate suits like a T-1000.
    But the distinct possibility he may appear in some stage of undress exists.
    Alaric Canon. With skin exposed.
    Must focus.
    Focus, focus, focus.
    He said to be here at 6:00 a.m.
    I’m here at 6:00 a.m.
    Do what he says when he says. Even though it doesn’t make sense to me.
    Some items still need packing up. Chargers and files. His laptop.
    Not a chance in hell I’m going to do that now and rob myself of something to concentrate on when he walks into the room.
    Be calm. Cool.
    Cool as a cucumber…which sets my mind skipping down a dirty little path…
    Sweet Baby Moses in a reed basket, it’s happening now. The door is opening, and I don’t know whether to sit or stand or turn around or look away or jump out the sliding door and hole up in a log cabin in the hills.
    Calm. The. Fuck. Down.
    This might be the closest I will get to the upper hand.
    You’re a reasonable man, Mr. Canon. You don’t tolerate mistakes, Mr. Canon. When you set a time, it’s not an approximation, Mr. Canon.
    I breathe. Deeply.
    It’s like a dance, but I’m leading this one. I know why I’m here. I’m justified in being here.
    One long leg breaks the threshold. I force myself to turn at what feels like half-speed.