Amy
P. S. “Rudeness is the weak man’s imitation of strength.”
― Edmund Burke.
* * *
From: J. Spearman
To: A. Walker
Subject: Rudeness
Thursday, April 7th, 5:29 a.m. PST
I apologize for my behavior. Thank you for fixing everything. Attached is the signed contract for Everhart & Everhart. Please make sure to have my accounts payable department wire them the retainer money.
Jackson
* * *
From: J. Spearman
To: A. Walker
Subject: Flight
Thursday, April 7th, 7:17 a.m.
My family members are the only people I trust. I might not live close to my siblings, but we are tight. Alex, my younger brother, is a jock. Seeing him struggle in bed after an accident caused by a drunken housewife who not only almost killed my brother, but her own daughter as well, is shredding my insides. To top it all off, my ex came to the hospital. She’s a cold person and a great actress. It irritates me that my parents treat her like she’s still a part of the family.
But you’re right, I shouldn’t have sent you that message. As you said, it isn’t easy to trust again. You are … too nice and I keep wondering what your endgame is. There has to be something behind the friendly, helpful exterior. Carla has worked for me for years, and I don’t think we have ever connected the way you and I do.
Sorry for being an ass.
J. Spearman.
P. S. I wouldn’t want your job if it involved dealing with people like me.
P. S. 2 I hope you stick around so I can show you how sorry I am.
P. S. 3 “Right actions in the future are the best apologies for bad actions in the past.”
– Tyron Edwards
* * *
From: J. Spearman
To: A. Walker
Subject: Travel arrangements
Friday, April 8th 10:47 a.m. PST
I need to fly back home on Sunday, please make the necessary arrangements. Thank you for everything you’ve done in the past couple of days.
J
* * *
Friday, April 8th 11:25 p.m. PST
JSpear84: Are you still awake?
AWalk90: …?
JSpear84: I take that as a yes.
AWalk90: That’s the most ridiculous question people ask when they text or call at late hours—along with, did I wake you? If people are answering, of course they’re awake. And even if you woke them up, they won’t tell you.
JSpear84: What am I supposed to say?
AWalk90: Try: Hi. If people don’t answer, then, they’re not awake.
JSpear84: Hi!
AWalk90: Hey, Mr. Spearman, how can I help you?
JSpear84: Are you still upset with me?
AWalk90: I’m pleading the 5th.
JSpear84: Are you doing anything fun this weekend?
AWalk90: Nope, I have a lot of work to do. I might go to the Bookstore on 3rd.
JSpear84: To search for treasures?
AWalk90: And work, they have a small cafe and Wi-Fi.
JSpear84: Why would you work during the weekend?
AWalk90: Some clients need us to help them on weekends, and not all the Virtual Assistants are available to support them.
JSpear84: Do they pay you overtime?
AWalk90: I get compensated, don’t worry about me. How’s your brother?
JSpear84: Quiet. I’m worried about him. He’s going to be in bed for another week, and then he has to start rehabilitation.
AWalk90: There’s a great medical center at Stanford. Otherwise, you can offer to let him move in with you and then hire some of the best specialists in the country, who happen to live in Denver.
JSpear84: Is there anything you don’t know?
AWalk90: Probably, but I research a lot. It comes with the territory.
JSpear84: Where do you live?
AWalk90: Online, obviously [wink emoji face]
JSpear84: Is there some policy against meeting clients?
AWalk90: I need to catch some zzzzs before tomorrow but contact me if you need anything.
JSpear84: Have a good night, Amy.
Chapter Seven
Friday, April 15th, 6:46 a.m.
“Good morning, Sushi,” I greet my rambunctious cat. “Where’s your partner in crime?”
“Meow,” he responds, licking his right paw while his honey colored eyes stare at me.
“Office hours begin right about…” I pause, pointing at the wall clock. “Now. I bet Ramen is still sleeping, isn’t she?”
“Meow, prrrr,” he says, giving me a dismissive glare.
“Am I interrupting something?” I ask as I turn on my computer. “By seven, I expect you to have my coffee ready, my oatmeal started and if possible, all of my correspondence answered.”
“Meow!” he protests.
In the kitchen, I pour myself a cup of coffee—thank God for automatic brewing—and start my oatmeal.
“You’re the worst assistant in the history of the world. I’m going to fire you like I did Ramen,” I warn him, but as usual, he’s immune to my rants.
I shouldn’t have favorites, but Sushi owns more of my heart than Ramen does. He’s always by my side, warming up my lap while I work, or on top of my pillow when I’m sleeping. Ramen is too independent and only comes close to me when she needs food.
Gathering my coffee, oatmeal, and half a grapefruit on a tray, I walk to my office. Before I take a seat, I run a hand through my long hair, twirl it up into a bun and grab a pen to secure it.
“Time to get this party started,” I say out loud.
It’s Friday which means, it’s going to be a long day. My clients expect a lot from me. They send a big to-do list and expect me to finish it before five—their time.
As usual, I start answering each message by time zone and then, I check in with my team. Everyone is already working and tackling whatever this Friday has to serve us. As a virtual assistant, Fridays are like Mondays, just super-sized. There’s always an emergency that requires more than one person to fix it. And who do they call? Me.
* * *
From: J. Spearman
To: A. Walker
Subject: Morning duties
Friday, April 15th, 7:26 a.m.
Where is my coffee? I thought you guessed your client’s needs and I need my coffee right about now. Also, thank you for getting my brother an appointment with Dr. Billaud. He’s seeing him next Monday. I heard he’s one of the best sports medicine doctors in the country. I’m not sure how you did it, but I owe you one.
I pause, taking a sip of my coffee and enjoying those words. He owes me one. One favor. I smile and look at Ramen who finally appears from wherever she decided to hide during the night.
“Hey, gorgeous girl,” I greet her. “Did you finally decide to grace us with your presence?”
“Meow,” she says getting ready to jump onto my desk.
I pick up my tablet and set it on the stand. I better start working from the remote unit because this kitty is about to pounce on my laptop, and she won’t let me work on it for a couple of hours. Once I finish setting up, I return to the email.
Attached is the list for today’s duties. I saw that you scheduled a lunch outside the office. Though, it’s not ideal, I appreciate you made reservations at a small restaurant. Please, let me know if you have time to work on Sunday. Mr. Genji and I have a conference call, and I heard you speak Japanese. It would be great if you could take notes for me.
Enjoy your Friday,
J
P. S. How are Sushi and Ramen today?
* * *
From: A. Walker
To: J. Spearman
Subject: Duties and favors
Friday, April 15th, 8:00 a.m.
Your coffee should be there by now. Unfortunately, my magic 8 ball broke yesterday, and I forgot my tarot cards at home. Why are you in the office so early? Did you skip your w
orkout?
This Sunday, like most Sundays, I’m off. If you don’t mind, I’ll reschedule your call, and I’ll be your translator. It’s a lot easier if we cut the middle man. Mariko, his assistant, and I hit it off the last time we were on the phone.
I cashed in a favor for you, don’t forget it when I ask you to sell me your first A.I. for one of my clients. I’ll start working on your list.
Amy
P. S. Sushi refuses to work, and Ramen just woke up and is taking a nap on my keyboard.
P. S. 2 Music always sounds better on Friday. —Lou Brutus
AWalk90 sent you a playlist
* * *
From F. Everhart
To: A Walker
Subject: Legal advice and clients
Friday, April 15th, 8:24 a.m.
I have a few depositions that need your attention, would you mind taking care of them today? If you need me, I’ll be in San Francisco all weekend surfing. Also, the Spearman case is dealt with. Thank you for finding me a new client—not that I needed him. I owe you one.
Fitzhenry Everhart
Everhart & Everhart Law Firm
P. S. “It’s Friday… any plan regarding being a productive member of society is officially out the window.”
* * *
To: F. Everhart
Subject: Friday equals Hell
Friday, April 15th, 8:31 a.m.
I don’t think you realize it, but today is Tax Day and Friday. We are super busy. I hope you don’t mind that I delegated a couple of those depositions. Everything will be completed before five o’clock EST, your original time zone. You always need new clients. I appreciate you taking on the case. His former lawyer knew less about law than I do. Enjoy the waves.
E.
P. S. “Welcome to Friday. In preparation for takeoff, please ensure all negative attitudes are properly stowed. On behalf of your captain, Jack Daniels and myself, welcome aboard. I expect sunshine and good attitudes today for our trip. Enjoy the ride.”
Unknown
* * *
Friday, April 15th, 9:14 a.m.
JSpear84: Ed Sheeran, seriously?
AWalk90: But of course, it’s Happier! A great tune for a Friday. What are you doing after dinner?
JSpear84: Work? And the song isn’t happy, it’s about this poor bastard’s break up, and how his girl is with another man.
AWalk90: Yeah, but it’s not a bitter tune, it’s a: I wish you luck. I hope that one day I can be as happy as you. Since it’s Friday, your mood should let you wish everyone happiness.
JSpear84: Now you’re defining my moods.
AWalk90: Just trying to challenge your current one. Also, there are plenty of other songs on that playlist. Friday I’m In Love—an oldie but goody. Shut up and Dance by Walk the Moon is perfect right now … think about it. I have work to do, and you are interrupting me. Got it, buddy?
JSpear84: Have a nice day, Amy.
Chapter Eight
Friday, April 15th, 11:18 a.m.
Today’s workload is heavier than usual. Between Tax Day and last-minute projects, my plate is full, and I won’t have enough time. I’m going to have to push a few things to tomorrow. Not Sunday, I’m taking that day off even if I don’t sleep for the next forty-eight hours. Life doesn’t give you exactly what you want. Today, I wanted to get out and enjoy the warm weather. Apparently, the only out I might be able to pull off is to pack my things and work at the bookstore.
It’s around eleven thirty when I decide to take a break and prepare some lunch, but right before I decide what to cook, my phone starts ringing.
“Damn it,” I curse because I can’t get anything done today.
“What can I do for you, Mr. Everhart?”
“So formal,” he says with a mocking voice. “I need you to make a reservation for tonight.”
He is one of my oldest and most favorite clients. He barely asks for personal favors.
“Are we celebrating something?”
“That I might get laid,” he chuckles. “So, make it fancy, special, and blow my date’s mind.”
“You’ll blow the rest?”
“No one knows me as well as you do,” he says with a chuckle. “That’s why you’re my favorite assistant.”
“I’m your only assistant,” I remind him.
“Yet, you can’t be faithful to me,” he says dramatically.
“Ha, you’re funny. I’ll have everything set for tonight at seven.”
“Sounds good, what are you up to today?” he asks with a smooth voice.
He makes me want to stay and chat with him for the rest of the evening.
“You’re not going out today?” he questions curiously. “Do you finally have a hot date?”
As I search for a good restaurant in San Francisco, I continue the conversation with him.
“I might head to the bookstore after I grab dinner,” I respond.
“Buy yourself some dinner, charge it to my account.”
“Aren’t you the best boss?” I comment. “I’ll take the dinner, but I’m still not quitting my other accounts.”
“You can’t blame me for trying,” he insists.
“Maybe it’s time you got a real assistant,” I suggest.
“You know what happened with the last one. I can’t afford to have women throwing themselves at my brother’s feet. My sisters-in-law won’t be happy.”
“I’ll get a male assistant,” I offer.
“Then, I won’t be able to get anything done. Stop trying to fix me up with someone else. You and I are forever, sweetheart.”
“Fine, be that way.” I stop, or I’ll never be able to get off the phone. “I’ll send you the information for your reservation once I have it.”
Around noon, my stomach grumbles and I finally rise from the seat and go to the kitchen to prepare myself a salad. Instead of working, I text my friend Laura to see if she’s available to chat.
Laura: Skype me?
I set my laptop on top of the coffee table, next to my food and call her. When she comes up on the screen, I see her sitting back, feeding Simone, her three-month-old daughter.
“Oh, you’re busy feeding the infant,” I say with disdain because it pisses her off that I’m not talking with a small voice and making parties for the baby.
Why would I? I can’t hold her, she can barely listen to me since she’s never around and we haven’t been introduced. Evidently, the day we meet in person she’s going to become my favorite niece. I just won’t say that to Laura. I enjoy pissing her off.
“Simone, her name is Simone,” she corrects me.
“One day, I’ll get used to calling her Simone. How is she doing?”
“Let me see, she cries every two hours, demands food, and craps like an adult.” Laura kisses her forehead. “She’s doing fine. She hasn’t done anything extraordinary yet, but I can’t imagine my life without her.”
I scrunch my face. “You’re talking like a true mother. One day you’re going to dump me for one of those women who take their children to play dates and know how to make giraffes out of toilet paper rolls and glue.”
“How’s work?” she asks, rolling her eyes and ignoring me.
“The usual, my clients demand food, complain every two hours, I’m sure they crap like adults. It’s like having multiple babies, but not a single one of them is cute.”
“None of them?”
“Well, Fitz could be Chris Evan’s doppelgänger—but he’s not into women. The other three I have on the roster are pretty ugly if you ask me and J. Spearman—aka Jackson Spearman—doesn’t have a picture online, and I am not allowed to search for any information, or he’ll sue me.”
She gives me an incredulous glare. “I take that you didn’t cyberstalk him.”
I grin. “I tried, there’s not one picture of the guy.”
“Of course you stalked him. That’s in your nature, you’re a true rebel who never gives up a quest.”
I groan, pinching a few leaves of sp
inach and fighting with the strawberries. “Yeah, I almost fired him as my client,” I say before taking a spoonful of salad.
“Uh-uh, what did he do?”
“He’s one of those men who thinks he can spread his anger around the world.”
She nods as if understanding. Laura and I go way back. She was my roommate from freshman year and even when I changed schools in college, we lived together until I decided to move out of Boston.
“What’s for lunch today?” she eyes my bowl.
“A ‘salad,’” I answer dismissively.
“Without lettuce?” She snorts. “That’s not a salad. Does it have any greens?”
“Do artichokes count as lettuce?” I stab some of them along with roasted red pepper and carrots.”
“Nope, you’re just mixing stuff in a bowl.”
“It’s a rainbow of veggies, ahi tuna, and wonton sticks.”
“Dressing?” She raises an eyebrow.
“Sesame dressing, and lots of it.” I grab my ramune and take a few sips.
“You were born in the wrong country,” she declares, giving me an eye roll. “Have you looked into moving to Japan, yet?”
“I’m happy here. What else can you tell me about yourself? Husband?”
“He’s pretending that he’s working while he’s playing Player Unknown, or maybe it is Fortnite. I can’t keep up with his vices,” she says with a huffy grin.
“I’ll send him some work,” I say loudly, hoping he can hear me.
“Anthem,” I hear Alistair protest. “If you two are going to talk shit about me, get your facts straight.”
“Tell him I have some work for him,” I insist. “To get his butt in gear.”
“Erasing your love letters to J. Spearman?” he asks loudly.
“Have you been spying on me?” I protest when he comes to the screen, kissing the top of Laura’s head and then the baby.
“No, I have better things to do, but while I was updating the chat app, I happened to catch some of the action. Things are heating up,” he says mockingly.
Maybe Later Page 5