Chapter Six

Charlie told himself that he was ready for his interview. He had showered and shaved, dressed nicely, tamed his unruly hair as best he could and managed to find parking. He checked one more time to ensure that all of his support material was still inside the portfolio case that was securely tucked under his arm as he approached the address…one hour early. Luckily there was a street-level café in the building that housed Hunt's office. He would wait there. It would give him time to calm down and collect his thoughts.

He entered the café—Les Trois Magots. A little bell announced his arrival, not that the woman behind the counter would have had any difficulty noticing him. It was a small establishment.

"Good morning," she chirped as Charlie closed the door behind him. The woman was small in stature, had curly ash-blonde hair and soft grey-blue eyes. She had a warm smile and creased face that said I love you, now sit down and eat. Her name badge identified her as Gwen. Charlie liked her immediately.

"Hi," Charlie said, as he smiled and headed over to the counter. "A large latte and…" He surveyed the array of baked goods. "One of those…please," he added, pointing to a flaky pastry that showed hints of chocolate concealed inside.

"One large latte, and one pain au chocolat. Is that for here, or to go?"

"Here, please."

"Have a seat and I'll bring them right to you."

He made his way to a small table in the corner where he could discreetly see who might be heading in for an interview ahead of him. Like any battle, it was important to know who the enemy was. He placed his portfolio case on the table in front of him so he wouldn't forget it.

Gwen was there in a moment with his order. "I think you'll like this," she said of the pastry. "It's my speciality."

"You make them yourself?"

"You bet. I studied in Paris for six years."

"And you ended up in Calgary?"

"Sometimes life has its own plans for us," she said with a smile, then returned to behind the counter.

Charlie sipped his latte and stared out the window. No one had entered or exited the office of Declan Hunt Investigations. He must be the first interview.

He knocked back the rest of the drink. Coffee was probably not the best idea this morning. He already felt the caffeine doing laps around his circulatory system, and he knew that he'd have to pee—but not now. Not when he had the chance to go. His body would wait until mid-interview, then his knee would start to vibrate…like a five-year-old's. He grabbed the pastry, shoved it into his mouth and bit down.

His teeth didn't slice through it. His molars didn't flatten it like a piece of bread. The pastry actually shattered in his mouth, like a glass Christmas tree ornament hitting the floor. His tastebuds were flooded with a burst of flavour as shards of buttery pastry flew through his mouth, across the table and all down the front of his clean white shirt. Then came the wave of chocolate. "Oh, my God!" Charlie covered his mouth, his eyes darting up to see if Gwen had seen him.

"Are you all right?" she asked.

"This," he said, holding up the pastry, "is the best thing I have ever tasted in my life! I bit into it, and it just…shattered in my mouth. You said you made this?"

"I most certainly did, and you have just given me the greatest gift a baker could receive. Thank you. And for that compliment, I'm giving you another one. And don't you dare complain about the calories."

She brought another pastry over and put it down in front of Charlie.

"This is pure alchemy," he said.

Gwen laughed. "So what brings you to this part of the city? I haven't seen you here before."

"I'm applying for a job. Upstairs."

"Oh," she said with a certain inflection which elicited a "What's wrong?" from Charlie.

"Nothing. Nothing at all." She paused for a moment. "But you look pretty young to have much experience in detective work."

"Oh, I'm just going for an office position. Do you know anything about the company? I mean, is it a good place to work? Did you know the person they're replacing? Do you know why they left?"

"Slow down, and eat." She sat down across from him. "I'm not going to be spreading any gossip about the man upstairs. One thing I've learned in life is that when someone tells you something about another person, they're either trying to sell you something you don't need, or trying to stop you from buying something that they want. Just go in there and keep an open mind. Be honest, ‘cause if you don't, it'll just catch up to you. I'm a pretty good judge of character and you seem like a good kid, so just be yourself, and don't let Declan scare you."

What Charlie heard from Gwen's speech was "I'm not going to spread rumours" and "Don't let Declan scare you." He started to panic then took a bite of the second pain au chocolat and the calm washed over his body again.

"So," Gwen interrupted him, "what time's your interview?"

"Eleven."

"Then you'd better go and take advantage of the washroom, brush yourself off and head up there."

Charlie took her up on the offer. Before he left the washroom he brushed off any crumbs remaining on his shirt, fixed his moppish blond hair as best he could and returned to pay the bill.

After the transaction, Gwen handed him a box. "Here. Give these to Declan. If he says anything, tell him I ordered you to bring them up. Use those exact words."

"Will do. And thanks for everything. I think I'm as ready as I'll ever be."

"You'll do well. Poke your nose in when you're done and let me know how it went."

"You got it."

"Oh, one more thing," Gwen added. "You may want to take that," she said, indicating his crumb-covered case on the table.

Charlie left the café, portfolio carefully tucked under his arm, and entered the door marked Declan Hunt Investigations.

At the second-floor landing, there was another door stencilled with the name of the company. Below that was a note stating "Just come in." Charlie checked his phone—10:56 a.m. He silenced it, took a deep breath and opened the door.

It was a bright, uncluttered room, toned with warm woods and brick. It was peaceful—so different from the other offices he'd worked at. His heart rate increased. I would look so good working here!

He stepped inside and closed the door behind him. Charlie was all alone. What was the protocol in this situation? Should he call out? Maybe he should clear his throat? He looked around to see if there was an obvious place to direct his throat-clearing when Declan Hunt entered from a side door. He was wearing khakis, brown loafers and a snug-fitting white shirt with his sleeves rolled up to below the elbows. His black hair shone like it had just been washed. His strong jaw was covered in a five o'clock shadow. He looked even more handsome than he had in the photograph—if that was possible.

"You must be Charlie," he said, approaching with his hand extended.

"Yes." Charlie took Declan's hand. He had a firm handshake. Charlie's pulse quickened and, to his horror, he started to get an erection. He used the box from Gwen to cover his growth spurt.

"Is that for me?" Declan asked, pointing to the box, smiling.

"What?" Charlie replied, thinking that he was referring to the bulge in his pants.

"The box…"

"Oh… Yes. The lady who runs the café downstairs asked me to bring them up to you."

"That was no lady. She's the devil in disguise," Declan said as he reached forward to take the box, but Charlie was in no position to give it up that quickly.

"I'll just put it here," Charlie said as he walked to the desk, imagining all sorts of things which would deal with his not-so-little problem—thoughts of influenza, injured puppies, seeing his mother naked. That seemed to help.

"You obviously have lovely neighbours," Charlie said, turning, after shifting his portfolio to cover his mid-line issue.

"She's not so much a neighbour, as my landlord…and my stepmother."

"Your stepmother? Wow, and I thought it was bad enough still being at home with my folks at twenty-four—I'm so sorry. That didn't come out right."

Declan smiled. "Don't worry about it. Sometimes we just never quite grow up the way we thought we would. Now, come on. Let's have a talk in my office."

Charlie followed Declan, all the while staring at his firm buttocks, thinking, You grew up just fine.

Once they were seated on opposite sides of Declan's desk, Charlie removed two pieces of paper from the portfolio. "Now, Mr Hunt—"

"Please—call me Declan."

"Of course… Declan." Charlie was having trouble controlling his quavering voice. "Here are letters of reference from my previous employers and—"

Declan interrupted, "Rather than spend time talking about what you did in the past, I'd like to focus on what I'd like you to be doing for me in the future."

"Sure," Charlie said, his rehearsed speech now thoroughly derailed.

"You'll be filling in for my regular assistant, Mrs B, who has taken a three-week leave. Most of the work will be standard office duties, scheduling, invoicing, answering enquiries—that sort of thing, which I don't think you'll have any problems with."

"Okay…"

Declan continued, "Now, about the agency—we sometimes deal with confidential cases that involve clients that, shall we say, work outside the law."

"…All right."

"And, you may already know that we specialise in clientele from the LGBTQ2S+ community."

"Of course," Charlie lied. He had not even thought to look up anything about the company other than how hot the owner was.

"So, I assume that won't be a problem with you, given that you'll be on the front line dealing with the clients?"

Charlie replied, "No. Not at all. I get along really well with… Lesbian, gay, bisexual, trans and…plus…people. I, myself, am…gay, that is. Have been for ages."

Please interrupt me and stop me from making an ass of myself.

Declan smiled. "Good. Now—why do you want to work here?"

Because you're hot.

Anything is better than spending more time in my parents' basement.

Did I mention that you're hot?

All of these thoughts screamed through his brain in the split second before he said, "To be honest, I know I can do the job. It seems like it'll use most of the same skills my last six jobs required and I was good at those, but…I thought maybe, just maybe, for the first time I can do something that really matters to real people instead of corporate entities. Even if it lasts only three weeks, I'd be grateful for the opportunity."

Declan sat in silence, staring at him.

Charlie rose to leave.

"Hey, where are you going?" Declan asked. "Don't you want to get to work?"

"What?"

"The job is yours, if you want it."

"Don't you need to check my references?" Charlie asked.

"Gwen called up the moment you left her place and gave you the thumbs up. So did Mickey at Bar-None."

"The bartender?"

"Yeah. I trust that guy with my life which, by the way, he's saved a few times. He texted me Friday night and told me you'd be accepting the offer of an interview."

Charlie shook his head in disbelief. "How did Mickey know? I hadn't made up my mind when I was talking to him."

"He's got this thing… He just senses stuff." Declan came out from behind the desk. "So, can you start right away?"

"Yes! But don't you want to see the other candidates for the job?"

Declan smiled. "I cancelled the other interviews."

"Why?"

"A detective learns to trust his gut—and Mickey's. Now, come on. Let me give you a tour, that is if you're still interested in working with me."

"Sure… I mean yes! I'd love to."

"And you're okay to start right away?"

"Absolutely!"

Declan began to show him around. "You've already seen the main office space. That's your desk over there," Declan said, indicating the one Charlie had placed the pastries on. "By the way, if Gwen's offering anything free for me…just say no. I like to pay my own way, even with Gwen."

"It would be a shame to…"

"They're yours. Go wild. Now here," he said, opening a door behind the desk, "is a kitchenette with a coffee maker, espresso machine, fridge, microwave. And your washroom. The client washroom is through the next door out in the main room," he explained.

Declan opened a pantry unit beside the counter. "Now, in this cupboard are the electronics that apparently run the telephone, computers and security system. The manuals are down there." He pointed to a stack of books, still factory shrink-wrapped. "As you can see, neither Mrs B or I had a clue as to how any of that stuff works, which is why nothing is…working. I figure since you're here and you seem to have experience in that sort of thing, you might as well try to get the tech up and running. Just let me know if there's anything that'll affect me directly. I'll deal with any fall-out from Mrs B when she gets back."

Charlie stared in awe at the high-tech jungle. If there was a seventh heaven, this was the eighth.

"All right, so far?" Declan asked.

"Oh, yeah," Charlie replied, smiling.

"Okay then…" Declan placed his hand on Charlie's back and directed him to his chair.

He rotated Charlie to face the computer. With one hand on Charlie's shoulder, and the other on the computer monitor, Declan said, "This…is the computer. Oh…" He pulled off a Post-It note that was affixed to the monitor. "This…is the password. Mrs B always left it here for security reasons. You know, in case she forgot it…" Declan gave him a pat on the shoulder.

"That's it. Good luck." Declan turned to walk away, then turned back. "Play around and see what you can figure out. I'm an idiot when it comes to how this office works. Mrs B would never tell me anything. I think she thought I'd just fuck it up." He paused. "And she was probably right. I'll be in my office if you need anything. If I'm not there, you can find me in my apartment upstairs, just through the green door behind my desk."

Declan smiled and left the room.