The Intern (Encounters Book 3) Read online

  The Intern

  Encounters #3

  Jack Harbon

  Copyright © 2020 by Jack Harbon

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

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  About the Author

  Also by Jack Harbon

  Chapter 1

  “Mm, there go your favorite person in the world,” Desiree murmurs, her eyes cutting across the small in-office cafeteria. She laughs at the way my face scrunches up and says, “What, you’re not going to turn around and look?”

  “Girl, fuck him,” I reply.

  I don’t even need to look back to see who she’s talking about. I know she means Rafael, and I know that if I turn around, we’ll end up making eye contact. I don’t know what it is about his gaze, but there’s always been some kind of stuck-up aura to it that just makes me want to mush his face and tell him to get a personality.

  Rafael Perez is the lead developer for Red Wonder Media and the eternal thorn in my goddamned side. The reason I find myself rolling my eyes more often than not and the cause of my near-constant annoyance here in the office.

  I hadn’t planned on taking the internship in the first place. My goal was to get my degree in computer science, fly back home to Houston, and find a new place and job there. Close to my family, but not too close that I’d end up smothered like I did before. Red Wonder just happened to be in the right place at the right time, and I couldn’t turn down the opportunity. Professor Henderson heavily implied that this was what I needed to do for my career, so I put off moving and signed my lease for another six months.

  I’m starting to think that was a mistake.

  Life at the office is fine. Shit, it’s great some days. Red Wonder likes to think of itself like a knockoff Google, so the office is designed to be as comfortable as possible. We literally have pajama days once a month, and catered lunches are a daily thing. When it comes to workplace environments, it’s pretty fucking amazing.

  My problem is Rafael.

  “What’s your beef with him, babe?” Desiree dunks a forkful of greens into her small bowl of salad dressing, popping it in her mouth and chewing. She covers her mouth with one hand and adds, “Like, is he racist or something? ‘Cause I’m quick to snitch to HR. Don’t play with me.”

  I crack a smile at her. “No, he’s not racist.”

  In fact, in that respect, Rafael does a pretty decent job of making everyone feel welcomed and listened to. Some of my friends from school still vent to me during our online game nights, and it sounds like this is another instance where I lucked out. From being told their hair is a little too wild for business to more aggressive acts of bigotry, Red Wonder might be a safe haven for Black and brown creatives.

  But it’s his personality.

  I don’t have a problem with people who know they’re the shit and don’t hesitate to remind you, but Rafael doesn’t just remind you. He plasters it on every wall in the room and the message is so clear it’s like being kicked in the nuts forty times, consecutively, with increasing velocity.

  “Then what’s the tea? Don’t be holding out on me, bitch. I told you all about Megan and Shawn’s office romance last time. It’s your turn to dish.”

  I sigh and put down my sandwich. “Okay, look. I think he’s fine. He does a good job managing everything. He’s the reason LOVRS is going to be finished and ready to launch this quarter instead of at the end of the year. But he’s got this attitude. It’s like… It’s stank, for lack of a better word.”

  Desiree snorts and nods. “Fair. He do walk around like his shit don’t stink.”

  “On god. I get it, first Latino man in Red Wonder history to be in charge of something this big. That’s huge. But at the same time, you can smile every once in a while. Not to sound like one of those guys out on the street.”

  “I was gonna say…”

  “No, but seriously, I think if he just stopped trying to be the big man in charge and loosened up, he’d—”

  Desiree flashes her eyes at me and looks over my shoulder, putting on a smile. “Hey, Rafael,” she says brightly.

  “Afternoon,” he says, offering her a quick nod before he sets his gaze on me.

  I could smack this motherfucker for looking so good.

  Six-foot-four with clipped dark brown hair and a pair of eyes that look seductive even when he’s on the phone with his higher ups. Not only that, but his slacks are always tailored to perfectly highlight an ass worthy of an exhibit at the MoMA and he has some pretty ass hands. Always manicured, with a clear coat on top to make them look even healthier.

  No really, I wanna fight him.

  “Can I see you in my office, Jaymore?” he asks coolly.

  After I finish eating this prosciutto and arugula.

  “Sure. And just Jay,” I reply, putting on a smile that rivals Desiree’s. “I’ll talk to you later,” I tell her as I rise and put away my food.

  “We still need to make dinner plans,” she reminds me. “And you’re paying.”

  “Says who?”

  “Says Bank of America. Fenty just dropped some more lingerie and I definitely gave that woman my rent money.”

  Rafael clears his throat, reminding us that he’s still waiting for me, and I’m tempted to ask him if he’s ever known fun, even in passing. Instead, I bite my tongue, toss my lunch, and say a quick goodbye to Desiree.

  The walk to the office is uncomfortably silent save for the sound of Rafael’s Italian shoes rhythmically hitting the tiled floor. We step into his office and he shuts the door behind me, something I’m not quite sure I like. Either I’m about to be let go or this is a serious conversation we’re going to have.

  He sits down on the edge of his desk and turns to me, hands clasped in his lap. “Sorry to interrupt your lunch, but I’m swamped and I’m not sure I’d have any other time today to talk with you about this.”

  “It’s fine.” I wave it off even though my stomach is still growling. “What did you need?”

  “Well, it’s about your internship.”

  Yup, this is it.

  “What about it?”

  He takes a deep breath. “We’re going to need another month or two to work things out before we decide who we’re letting on.”

  “Seriously, Rafael?” I can’t stop myself from speaking the first thing that comes out. “This was supposed to be a twelve-week thing. I’ve been here five months.”

  He puts those perfectly manicured hands in the air, trying to calm me down. “I know. I know, Jay. This isn’t solely my decision. I’d personally like to get this process over with as soon as possible. We’d have done it weeks ago were it my choice.”

  “I have bills to pay, though,” I insist. “This is one of the few places that reached out offering a paid internship, but it’s still not enough to afford much here. We can’t keep being strung along missing opportunities at other companies for nickels and dimes.”

  “You think I don’t know that?” His tone is curt, and I raise one eyebrow at him. Rafael collects himself and says, “I’m stressed about work. I don’t mean to take it out on you.”

  “We’re all stressed.”

  “Fair. Look, I’ll talk to them and see about possibly giving the interns a bit more, but it’s out
of my hands if they say no. It sucks, I understand that. But that’s how it is sometimes.”

  There’s a part of me that wants to argue that this is probably against some kind of rule, but I’m not sure. I was lucky enough to get a paid post-grad internship meanwhile a lot of my friends worked for free and still didn’t get hired after graduation. Months wasted that they could’ve put towards saving up or building connections with others in the business.

  “I hate corporate America,” I mutter, shaking my head and laughing bitterly.

  “It hates you too.”

  “No kidding. Who needs LOVRS when I can get fucked by my boss’s bosses every single day?”

  To my surprise, Rafael cracks a smile at my joke. I don’t think I’ve seen this expression from him since I first started and he found out the vending machine was restocked with M&M Rice Krispies.

  “This damn app.”

  I tilt my head, curious what he means by that. In all our team meetings, he’s been nothing but pep, reminding us nonstop that this app is going to be huge. A contender in the marketplace and a huge competitor for Tinder and Hinge.

  “Not as excited about it?” I ask, tempting fate. I fully expect him to shut the conversation down, suddenly aware that he’s not talking to a friend, but rather one of the developers on said app.

  “I’m excited, sure. I’m just tired of dealing with it every day. I’m also supposed to do some after-hours promotion for it. It’s exhausting.”

  For the first time, Rafael seems to be dropping his veil of unshakeable confidence. He’s not poised like he usually is. He’s not on. I don’t know if I like it yet, but it’s certainly a nice change of pace.

  “Can I be honest?”

  He glances up at me, eyes narrowed as he says, “Tread carefully.”

  “I don’t think the world needs another dating app. I like the features this one has, like the ability to sort your matches by political affiliations and race and stuff, but sometimes it feels like we’re making the same thing in a different package.”

  “The market is crowded, yes. Almost makes you want to go back to the old days of meeting people in real life. Easier times.”

  “Well, for some of us.” I don’t elaborate, and I don’t think he needs me too. He’s overheard plenty of conversations me and Desiree have had about the guys I’ve talked to. He knows that for a minority of people, these apps have made the dating world more accessible. Without it, plenty of queer folks would have never met their partners.

  “Anyway,” I say, adjusting the cuffs on my button down. “I should get back to lunch. I’ve got, what, seven minutes left?”

  “Six if you run back to the cafeteria.”

  “I don’t get paid enough to run anywhere in this building,” I reply. Once again, Rafael shoots me a smile. It’s disarming in nature, his stern expression softening and his white teeth poking out from beneath full lips. I start for the door when Rafael says,

  “I’ll pay for your lunch tomorrow.”

  I pause, fingers wrapped around the handle. “Yeah?”

  “I know that sandwich wasn’t cheap.”

  “Well…thanks. I’m going to hold you to that, so don’t try to cheap out on me.”

  He rolls his eyes and waves me away. “Go.”

  When I close the door behind me, I bite back a smile and return to my desk instead.

  Chapter 2

  I swear to God, if one more motherfucking customer puts a plate on top of another plate with ketchup or sauce on it, I’m going to start poisoning every burger in Camillo’s diner. Grumbling to myself and tossing silverware into my bucket, I put aside thoughts of murder long enough to clean the entire table and wipe it down.

  In the kitchen, I dump all the dishes into the scalding soapy water and prepare them for the dishwasher.

  “Fuck, my feet,” I groan, pausing to stretch out my arches.

  “Someone would pay good money to,” one of the cooks says, laughing at his own joke.

  I snort. “They better be paying more than Camillo.”

  “I heard that!” the cook replies.

  As if hearing his name and appearing from thin air, Camillo rounds the corner and points directly at me. If Danny Trejo’s persona was in Danny DeVito’s body, that would sum up Camillo to a T. He’s a squat man with a big mouth and bigger attitude, so when he points at me, I’m instantly put on edge.

  “What’s up?” I ask, trying to play it cool.

  “Need you to take care of a customer for me.”

  I crinkle my face and shake the bucket resting against my hip. “Not my job, my mans.”

  “Your job is what I say it is, my mans. New girl left to take her smoke break and that’s her section. All my other girls are busy, and he’s been sitting there for a long time. Get your foot fetish ass out there and check on him.”

  I bite my tongue, well aware that now isn’t the time to argue with him. He’s worse than Rafael when it comes to not being approachable and personable in any way, shape, or form. Instead of reminding him that I clean the tables not put food on them, I roll my eyes and head to the door.

  I can tell who the customer is just by the back of his head, and immediately I consider throwing in the towel and going on break. Not now. I already have to deal with him at work five days a week, I don’t need him at my second job too.

  “Go,” Camillo says, nudging me out of the kitchen.

  Dragging my aching feet the entire way, I approach Rafael and ask, “Is there anything I can get for you, sir?”

  He looks up and recognition crosses his face. “Jaymore.”

  Rafael looks painfully sexy in a plain maroon Henley T. Way better than he has any authority to look if you ask me.

  “Just Jay,” I remind him.

  “Jay. What are you doing here?”

  “On the clock,” I say, pointing to the apron around my waist. What’s more embarrassing than being forced to wait on my boss out of the office is the fact that my apron isn’t black like all the other waitresses. It’s white and serves as a way to distinguish between servers and busboys.

  “You certainly keep busy, no?”

  “Well, as you know, I don’t make much at my day job,” I say with a shrug. I don’t feel as antsy about not holding my tongue as I would normally. Sure, I’m working now, but Rafael isn’t my boss here.

  “I like your work ethic,” Rafael says, stirring his straw in his water. His eyes roam over me a bit longer than expected, from my head to my toes then back up again.

  Pardon?

  No, what was that about?

  “Yeah, you should let the hiring managers know. Put in a good word for me, y’know?”

  Rafael gives me a slight smirk and nods slowly. “I’ll be sure to let them know.”

  An uncomfortable silence follows his reply, and I rock side to side, giving him that tight-lipped white guy smile I get from some of my coworkers at Red Wonder. “So,” I say, leading the conversation back to why Gino forced me over here. “What can I get for you?”

  “I’m actually supposed to be meeting my date soon.”

  This is a surprise to me. For some reason, I expected Rafael to be married with kids, the uptight manly father that wants to bring home the bacon. This is the danger of projecting.

  “Running late?”

  “About forty-five minutes, yes. I’m not sure he’s going to show.”

  “He.” I mean to think it, but it comes out faster than I can control.

  “Yes, he.” Rafael’s amused by my shock, and he laughs in that deep, controlled manner that shouldn’t make me excited but does. “This is the assignment I was telling you about. It was supposed to be some kind of promotion for LOVRS. Prove that the app works so well, even the team lead uses it for his dating life. That kind of thing.”

  “Ah,” I nod. I’m still hung up on him being into dudes. All this time I thought he was boring and straight, but Rafael Perez is out here smashing cheeks. Or getting his cheeks smashed. I’m not going to be presumptuous a
nymore.

  I clear my throat. “Sorry he didn’t show. Kind of an asshole if you ask me.”

  “Funny, since I’ve seen more of those than I have of him since I joined LOVRS beta program.”

  My eyebrows go up and I fight the urge to let my mouth fall open. “Oh, wow.”

  “Sorry, perhaps that was a bit too much.” He stifles his laughter with a long drink of water. “You should sit.”

  “I’m, uh…”

  “You’re on the clock, I know, but still. Sit. I’ll let your boss know I asked if they come out here looking for you.”

  I don’t make a move, glancing at the open chair and back at Rafael. Camillo will more than likely throw a fit, but what am I supposed to say? The customer is always right, aren’t they?

  “Jay, sit. You’ll be making my hour here worth it.”

  “Okay. Yeah, sure.”

  I sit down in the chair across from him, skeptically flipping through the menu left on my side of the table. I know every meal like the back of my hand, and this is just a way for me to stare at something other than the way his pecs look in his tight shirt.

  “Ooh, your date finally showed.” The waitress I don’t immediately know the name of appears out of nowhere, pen and paper in her hands and her eyes clearly red from the smoking break she just took. I’m not sure that’s the kind of smoking Camillo expected.

  “I’m not his—”

  “You should be more on time, mister,” she scolds, playfully swatting my arm and giggling. I turn to Rafael only to find him clearly enjoying the fact that he’s gotten me in trouble.

  “All that matters is that he’s here now, right?” he asks.

  “Exactly! So, what should I get you both? Any drinks or appetizers?”

  Once we’ve ordered two burgers and two sides of fries, Daisy, from what her nametag reads, bounds off to the kitchen, far too much pep in her step. Knowing this place, I’ll give the poor girl about three weeks before she calls in sick and never comes back. Bubbly personalities like her don’t last very long here.