Chapter 3. The Presidency

By Javier

On Monday morning, there was a small formal ceremony to hand over the presidency to me. I was happy, even though I knew a lot of work awaited me, and I was putting my playboy lifestyle aside—just a little, just a little.

My father was moved, and so was my brother; Tony was always very generous.

He handed the presidency over to me—I’d thought it belonged to him, since he was my older brother—but it was true that with the imports and the clothing factories, he didn’t have time for it.

And… she was there too, wearing a little skirt-and-blazer ensemble—fitted, very feminine, a light lilac color—and a broderie blouse. It was white and buttoned all the way up to her chest; you couldn’t see a thing, absolutely nothing—too modest for a girl her age—but you could tell everything about her.

I kept glancing at her out of the corner of my eye the whole time, but discreetly.

Always so proper, on the surface, but she wouldn’t get the better of me—I was going to investigate her, and she’d end up leaving through the back door, humiliated like the whore she was.

She congratulated me by holding out her hand, which I ignored, and I felt my father’s gaze, disapproving of my attitude—I ignored that, too.

My brother approached her, whispered something in her ear—something I didn’t hear—kissed the top of her head, and put his arms around her shoulders.

How could my father allow someone else to embrace his mistress? Did he know about them? Were they doing this to cover it up?

Everyone had already left; only my father and I remained.—

Just as I gave you the presidency, I can take it away from you. I’m still alive and can keep working—put your stupidity aside.

I knew he was referring to the snub I’d given his beloved Camila.—

Why don’t you just give the presidency to her instead?

I replied haughtily. “I

swear I thought about it, but I want you to be a man—not just some idiot who goes from club to club, from one woman’s arms to another, often drunk, feeding the tabloids with all your scandals.

I know it’s true—I slept with actresses, models, businesswomen—and they all ended up as stories in the most sensationalist gossip magazines.”

I never thought I’d consider giving the presidency to Camila; she must be saying this just to threaten me—I’m sure of it.—“I’m

responsible, and she’s nothing more than a…” “Watch

your language!” she yelled at

me.—“Yeah

, whatever you say.”

I hurried out to my office; I glanced over at hers—the door was open, and she was working.

“That’s it,” I thought. “I’m going to monitor everything she does, find her mistakes, keep track of her schedule—she must be working fewer hours than she’s supposed to—and that way I’ll have the perfect excuse to fire her.” “Miss

,” I said sarcastically, peeking through her office door, “I want the sales records for the past six months from the home appliances and electronics department.”

With that, I start to annoy her. “Do you want them

in hard copy, or should I share the file with you via your computer?

” Shit!, I thought.

“In hard copy—bring them to my office.”

“I’ll have my assistant send them to you.” “Don’t

you have legs?

” “Do you really want me standing right in front of you?

” “Fine, this is going to be easier than I thought; this little kitten is already showing her claws.” “If

I have any doubts, do you think your assistant is going to clear them up for me?

” “I’ll bring you the relevant files right away,

” she said, after a sigh.

I walked away smiling.

My plan had begun; luckily, my father had gone with my brother to customs and wasn’t coming back.

In seven minutes—yes, I timed her—though inwardly I’d given her ten minutes before calling her out on her inefficiency—she walked into my office carrying twelve folders. The door was open, and she didn’t have a free hand to knock.—Don’t

you know how to knock?

She looked at me and, patiently—without showing any anger at my lack of empathy—said with a smile and in a very polite manner:

“I’m sorry; to save time, I brought all the folders together, and I didn’t have any free hands.”

“Next time, announce yourself—it doesn’t cost you anything. You don’t know if I’m busy.” Yes, I was being childish.

“I’m sorry. Shall we look at the documents now, or should I come back later?

”Was she messing with me? I was going to ask her about every single file and drive her crazy with questions for hours, until she cried.—

Now, have a seat. Or are you in a hurry?

—Excuse me, she said as she settled into a chair across from me.—

Where do you want to start? Electronics or appliances?

I don’t care, I thought, as I looked at her and my eyes drifted to her mouth; I shifted restlessly, feeling something ignite inside me.

I got even angrier—I think at myself.—“Electronics

,

” I replied, looking away.

She opened a folder with the files from the past six months. I was amazed—they were impeccable. Not even I, as an accountant, had everything so detailed, concise, and with all the necessary data. I looked at the rest of the months and then at the home appliances section; they were just the same—perfect.

I looked at her; I didn’t know what to say to her. Yes, I should congratulate her—she was managing things perfectly, impeccably.—“How

many people do you oversee? Because if there’s too much staff…”

Somehow, I was going to make her uncomfortable.—“One

per department, plus three administrative secretaries and my assistant.”

It really was very few people for so much work.—“Who

authorizes the overtime?

” Yeah, I’m splitting hairs or looking for a fifth leg on a cat.—

Overtime was set by your father, and it’s not excessive; once you organize your work, it gets done quickly.—

If it goes too fast, it leads to mistakes.

I was never going to be satisfied; I know I’m being a jerk, and she’s so… fiery… Stay calm, stay calm when you answer!

And so self-assured.

—The three secretaries review the data—once it’s ready—then my assistant organizes everything into each folder, files them, and I verify that there are no errors.—

Do you think you’re infallible?

Her eyes have already glazed over—is she about to cry? I smiled.—No

, sir… That’s why we double-check everything, and we have everything detailed in hard copy, backed up on the computer, and also in the cloud.

Shit! She’s got everything covered! I’m going to mess with you, even if it’s just with the schedule, I thought.—Take

everything with you; tomorrow we’ll continue with other departments and then with purchasing.—

Excuse me,

she says, seriously and politely.

She leaves, and I feel a certain emptiness; I was left wanting to tease her a little more.

I threw myself into my work; I’d really wasted time with Camila—she was doing her job well.

To my surprise, my father came back. He asked me how it had gone; we chatted for a few minutes, and he said goodbye. I watched as he went into Camila’s office, closed the door, and after 20 minutes (I keep tabs on everything), they left together. I checked the time: 9:30 p.m.

The last shift went until 10 p.m., but she hadn’t stopped since 9 a.m. or earlier—because when I arrived, she was already there. Well, she doesn’t travel. What more does she want?

I went downstairs, ready to leave, and saw the little vixen and my father having dinner at the restaurant on the ground floor, chatting animatedly, laughing from time to time. It made me sick. He didn’t invite me to dinner, but he invited her!

I went back up to the first floor, ordered a sandwich and a coffee, and watched from a distance to see what they were up to.

Nothing—they were in public.

They couldn’t see me, and I could barely see them, but I could guess their movements. After a while, they stood up; my father kissed her on the top of her head to say goodbye and left. He isn’t even that affectionate with me. “What do you want—to crouch down so he’ll kiss your head?” I asked myself.

I’m ridiculous. I followed her—I’m turning into a stalker. To my surprise, she went back to the office.

I watched her, hidden, while she worked oblivious to me. Around noon, she turned off and locked everything up, set an alarm on the floor—I didn’t even remember it existed. I

went down a few steps so she wouldn’t see me. Now she really was gone—she went to her apartment.

I’m going to get up early to see what time she starts work.