SITTING and rubbing his eyes, Zed tried to get the stinging to subside, just for a moment. It had been a long, hard day already and it was barely noon. With a groan, he sat back, taking the time to reflect on the past several weeks. Perhaps accepting this new job had been a mistake. Sure, the benefits and the money were amazing, but the hours! No longer nine to five, the timetable seemed to run on a conveyor belt.

Zed had, for all intents and purposes, become his boss's shadow. He followed him to every client meeting, every lunch date, even a few board meetings. On two separate occasions, MacIntire had gone so far as to request that he attend a client meeting solo. Under normal circumstances, this would have been seen as a huge opportunity for the young assistant to show his skills and, perhaps, even begin lobbying for a promotion. That would have been, however, if it were not for Zed's prior knowledge that his employer could not stand either client with whom he had been asked to meet.

He had become so accustomed to retracing his boss's every footstep that, to his embarrassment, he’d once accidentally followed the man into the loo. This was a mistake that was not to be duplicated, if only to avoid a repeat performance of the resulting sarcastic lecture given by MacIntire in full view of the entire office floor.

But his duties were no longer confined to just the office. More than once, MacIntire had even claimed to have an “emergency” which somehow required Zed to catch a cab across town after midnight at his boss’ private residence. These emergencies had run the gambit from forgetting a vital piece of paperwork for a client, to running out of wine.

Though, no matter how ridiculous the new position seemed to be, it was not without its perks. One thing that Zed still wasn’t quite over was having a door that he could leave open or closed as he pleased. He relished in having that choice despite the fact that, thus far, he’d been more prone to the former for fear that he might miss his boss's thundering call. 

Though he had become quite accustomed to jumping at the sound of his employer's voice, he'd never truly come to grips with the odd nature of some of the recent requests. Which was why, after taking this position, he had promised himself to be prepared for (and not surprised by) anything.

Only moments after Zed had reminded himself of that fact, MacIntire yelled out his name down the hall. Tearing his eyes away from the massive schedule he’d been trying to organise, he made his way to his employer’s office with only a few quick strides. He knocked on the door frame out of courtesy before entering. 'Hello, Sir. How may I help you?'

'I need a complete wardrobe overhaul, Mr Higgins. Contact my tailor and tell him I need five brand new suits, the latest styles. Then, go to my closest and throw out the five oldest ones. Or, have him tailor them to you. Whichever. I honestly don't care. They're of no use to me, anymore. And, of course, I'll need ten new matching sets of ties, pocket squares, cufflinks, shirts, and socks to go with them. And shoes. Three pairs of shoes. And an overcoat. And an umbrella.'

As Zed quickly compiled the exorbitant list onto a note on his mobile, his eyes grew wider at the sheer approximate price tag of what his employer was asking for. 'An… umbrella, Sir?'

'Yes. I don't use one, but it's one of those things one should always have. All the best people have umbrellas. Prince William has an umbrella. Now, hop to. I expect my new wardrobe will be available to me tomorrow evening.'

With a more than slightly worried look, Zed hurried down the hall, hoping the tailor could make more sense of the list than he could.

Not a week later, and his boss' outlandish requests kept coming. 'Higgins!'

'Yes, Sir,' Zed said, breathlessly. He had been nearly to the other side of the thirty-seventh floor when he'd heard the shout, causing him to madly dash to the office door.

MacIntire looked up, confusion written on every feature. 'Why do you sound like that? Are you ill?'

'No, Sir, just… running.'

'Well, don't—you'll wrinkle your suit. Once you catch your breath, call my dealer. I need a new car. Trade in my old one for the latest Porsche models, gunmetal grey. Bring me three options and I’ll pick this afternoon.'

'This afternoon? Sir, I don’t know if—' But the look on his face left no room for argument as he swept past Zed to go to his next meeting.

Before the month was out, Zed was called into his MacIntire’s office, yet again, as the man paced holes into the carpeting. 'I’ve come to an important realisation, Higgins.'

A slight crease formed between Zed’s eyebrows. 'Which is, Sir?'

'It’s not the clothes, or the car: it’s the place. I’ve been in one place for far too long and I need a change,' he said, ceasing his erratic movement and meeting Zed’s eyes with a strange intensity. 'I want to move house.'

Zed nodded along, already making a laundry list in his head of things that he would have to coordinate for the move. 'Excellent, Sir. Where is the house?'

'I have absolutely no idea where it is. That's your job,' he said, seeming surprised that it wasn’t obvious.

The wheels in the assistant’s mind suddenly squealed to a halt. MacIntire wanted him to pick a house for him? Did he really trust him implicitly? Had he been abducted by aliens and replaced with a carbon copy? He blinked once more, unintentionally communicating his lack of understanding. 'Excuse me?'

MacIntire rolled his eyes before speaking, dryly. 'It's been nearly nine months, Mr Higgins. I should hope you know me well enough to pick out a handful of potential houses that I might like to tour.'

The understanding hit Zed like a ton of obvious bricks. 'Oh... To tour. Of course.'

The CFO frowned, a pensive and somewhat disturbed look painting his face. 'Higgins, if you are going to be successful at this company, you really do need to be more on the ball. We can’t afford any dead weight on this team. I’m sure you understand that.'

'Of course, Sir. No dead weight. I’ll get right on this, Mr MacIntire.'

'Good man.' He strode over to Zed and patted his shoulder, encouragingly. 'Now, off you go. Find me a good one.'

As Zed ran off to do just that, MacIntire resumed his mission to wear footprints into the floor.

AFTER what seemed to be the single longest morning in history, Zed finally decided to ignore his stomach no longer and order lunch. He was just about to dial when his fingers stopped dead above the numbers, hearing a female voice, rather than a dial tone.

‘–maybe you should call one of your old school mates. I’m sure they’d love to catch up with you over dinner sometime.’ The voice lilted reassuringly in a light French accent that was tinted with something else Zed couldn’t quite place..

'That’s not quite the company I was referring to, even if I did have the time to have dinner with friends.' His boss’ voice was tired, almost a whine. Zed had never heard MacIntire sound quite so… young before.

'You're not telling me that the famous Cinq Merveilles is lonely, are you? Don't you have a fit assistant you can shag on the side?'

Zed’s face bloomed hot as MacIntire laughed. 'Even if I was the type, which I'm not, picking from the work pool isn't exactly the wisest decision.'

'Well, then, I guess you're just stuck with Ally.'

'I'm not “stuck” with Ally. Ally is perfect for me. Loyal, smart, witty, confident, successful, talented...'

'Boring, stuffy, needy, only in the country four months out of the year...' she added, playfully.

'Well, you're not wrong. But that's not a good enough reason to leave someone after four years. It's just that, even after all this time, we still haven't clicked, you know? I have my career and Ally has art and painting and is desperately trying to be a hipster...' The woman laughed. 'But every time the subject of commitment comes up— I don't know, I freeze.' He trailed off.

'Augie, let me ask you a very simple question, then. Do you love Ally?'

'Don't be daft; of course I do.'

'Are you in love with Ally?' To this, Mac didn't answer, prompting her to sigh. 'It sounds like everything might not be so perfect after all, huh?'

'I mean, it's not just Ally. It's— everything! I'm stuck in this rut I feel like I can't get free of. I changed my entire wardrobe, got a new car… hell, I moved to shake things up and it didn't work. I'm nearly thirty-five and already CFO? At this rate I'll be retired at forty. Then, what? Dead at forty-five?'

'Oh, yes, that's rational, mon chérie.'

'I'm serious. I feel like I've peaked! Horrible feeling, if I'm being honest.'

'There's more to life than work, Augie.'

'Humph. You sound like Ally. A white picket fence, a dog and two-point-five kids aren't exactly my style.'

'Then, what do you want?'

There was a long silence before MacIntire finally spoke, his response barely above a whisper. 'You know, I never talked to Mum about these kinds of things. Never saw the point. Now, I really wish I had.'

'I really am sorry for your loss, mon loup. I miss her, too.'

'Thanks, ma belle. That really does mean a lot.'

'It's the truth. I do have to get going, though. But I'll call you soon, yeah?'

Zed set the mobile back into its cradle as quietly as he could, hoping that neither MacIntire nor the mysterious French woman heard the click as he did so. He hadn’t meant to eavesdrop on his boss’s intimate conversation, but, nevertheless, it had happened.

This was now the second time he'd had a rare glimpse into the man's humanity. And, for the second time, he felt completely taken aback. Of course his boss was human. Of course he had feelings and dreams and insecurities. But, to actually see it first hand—

His thoughts were then interrupted by a thundering voice from inside the office next to his. 'Is lunch not here yet?!'

Perhaps he’d have time to consider MacIntire’s humanity when he was dead.

'O—on it, Sir!'