The Ferryman Institute Read Online Free PDF Page B

demeanor usually took center stage shortly thereafter. She was certainly the friendliest manager he’d ever had, that was for sure. Yet it was her seemingly unending supply of patience that Charlie appreciated most.
    At least, that’s what she was like when he wasn’t busy making her job miserable. Charlie sincerely hoped her patience was actually unending.
    She stood, stock-still, one arm across her chest, the other covering her face. When she spoke again, her voice had lost its edge, as if her anger had finally collapsed under the realization that she simply couldn’t win. “I swear, Charlie, you will be the death of me. I don’t know how, but being your manager will most definitely kill me.”
    Charlie noted the difficulty of such a feat, seeing as it was impossible for either of them to die. “Am I that bad to work with?” he asked.
    â€œWorse.” There was no hesitation in her reply.
    â€œOh.” He paused. “Can you toss me a towel?” The quiet thumping of her heels marching away provided his answer.
    Fifteen minutes later, Charlie emerged from his private room transformed. His hair had a look of controlled chaos about it, a step up from its previous iteration of pure chaos. It danced to its own rhythm atop his head, a wave of chestnut with a mind all its own. The shorts had been swapped out in favor of a snappy black suit tailored to his modestly broad shoulders, a conventional white button-down underneath. An elegant wristwatch wrapped around his left wrist. The final flourish, which he was fiddling with as he walked out, was a silver tie he was exceptionally fond of. An inch shy of six feet tall, Charlie Dawson possessed a casual strain of good looks that bordered on ruggedly handsome—trim but fit build, baked-in layer of stubble, and inquisitive eyes. He was no lady-killer—nor in his occupation did he have any particular desire to be—but he caught the eye when he entered a room.
    Yet the silver tie wasn’t the only new adornment fastened around Charlie’s neck as he reentered his main office space. He could feel the albatross strung around his neck like a physical thing, forged of heavy guilt and ponderous regrets. The intervening time had taken the thin veneer of humor off the brief conversation he’d just had with Melissa. Charlie always felt guilty after he walked out of the Institute unannounced, but this time he’d blown off his manager in fantastically sarcastic, if not downright insulting, style. It wasn’t the first time he’d done that to a manager, but it was the first time he’d laid it on that thick with Melissa. It wasn’t sitting well with him, which probably meant it had curdled several times over with her.
    She was currently seated on his couch with her legs crossed, a dainty black heel dangling from the toes of her right foot. Thoughhe was trying to avoid her gaze, he’d caught a glimpse of the I’m still not happy with you look currently aimed in his direction.
    â€œAh, the crown prince finally graces me with his presence,” she said.
    Nope, definitely not sitting well with her, either.
    â€œI, uh . . . I owe you an apology,” he said, keeping his eyes focused on his tie. “I was just—”
    â€œStop. Right there, just stop. You always say that,” she said. Each syllable she spoke was granite. “You’re sorry for this, you’re sorry for that. Every time this happens, I get myself all worked up and bent out of shape over your disappearing act, only for you to waltz back in here like it’s no big deal. It makes me feel like I’m the bad guy for trying to do my job. This is not the person I like to be, Charlie. And you know what makes me even more upset? You already know that.”
    Charlie found himself with a sudden and desperate need to fiddle with his watch. He couldn’t think of another time he’d seen Melissa this upset. Now