While being within five feet of Grant usually made me a bit nauseous, Sasha had been scheming to land a job as his assistant since her first day. Mr. Patocka’s decision to place me in the very position she’d been working for all summer would no doubt push her beyond any irritation she’d had for me before.

I smiled at the thought. This would mean an all-out war.

“Is there a problem, Sasha?” I asked, trying to preserve a bit of respect from my future employees.

“Problem? Not at all,” Sasha said with the sickeningly sweet laugh that liberated her from most awkward situations she’d created for herself. “I apologize, Nina. I didn’t realize you were so sensitive,” she smiled.

I looked to Mr. Patocka. “Are we finished here?”

“I’m finished with the meeting, but I need you to come to Grant’s office with me, Nina. He needs to brief you on a few things before you start back next week.”

The other interns filed out of the room, shaking hands and saying their goodbyes. I nodded to each of them as they made a bee-line to the elevator, but not before meeting Sasha’s cheap grin with one of my own.

Mr. Patocka escorted me down the hall and into the elevator, punching button four, where my father’s office still resided. Grant’s office was on the opposite side of the floor, parallel to Jack's. Half of his walls were covered in degrees and pictures of polo ponies, and the other half allowing the sunshine to pour in from large windows that overlooked Fleet Rink.

Mr. Patocka knocked on Grant’s half-opened door. “Er…Mr. Bristol? Nina’s here to see you.”

“Bring her in.”

I walked into his office, sitting in a puffy green chair, feeling amiable for a change. Grant had worked for my father for ten years, and like every cliché rise-to-the-top story, Grant started at entry level. The only thing that would have made his story any more boring would be if he’d began in the mail-sorting trenches, had we kept a mail room. But Grant didn’t begin his days at Titan as a mail boy.

He began as an intern.

“Nina,” Grant greeted me over his thin, square glasses.

“Grant,” I acknowledged with a nod.

Grant looked at Mr. Patocka and smiled politely. “Thank you, Eugene.”

Mr. Patocka ducked from the door and shut it behind him. Even though I saw Grant as somewhat of a weasel, the rest of the employees regarded him as their personal savior.

“Okay, what’s with all the formalities, Grant?” I said, crossing my arms.

“Give me a break, Peanut,” he smiled.