by Amara Kent
“Did you like my singing?” she asks with anticipation.
“I did. You sang beautifully.”
“Just like her mother,” my mother comments.
“Really? I sound just like Mommy did?” she asks me.
“Exactly like Mommy.”
“Do you have to go back to work now, Daddy?”
“I do, sweetheart. I’m sorry.”
“That’s okay, I know work is important to you. Grandma, can Chrissy come over after school?” Her eyes are full of hope, as she waits for my mom to give her an answer.
“If it’s okay with her mother, sure.”
“Yay!” Chloe bounces in my arms.
“Okay, baby. I have to go now. I’ll see you after work, yeah?”
Her little face lights up. “I have a new book for us to read!” she exclaims.
“Really? From school?” I ask, interested.
She shakes her head. “Grandma bought me a new book about ponies.”
“I can’t wait to read it with you,” I declare.
I give her one last hug, along with my mother and leave them. I grab a taxi and dial Nancy’s cell phone.
“Dean,” she says.
“How’s it going?”
“Very well. She’s picking things up quickly.”
“Good.”
“How was Chloe’s performance?”
“She was amazing. Outshined all the other students,” I say with honesty.
“I have no doubt. She’s just like Melinda.”
“Wonderfully so.”
“I’ll see you when you get back.”
“See you.”
As I exit Dean’s office, Nancy pats the chair next to her and ushers me over. “Before I proceed to instruct you on how to complete the tasks Mr. Lukas has requested of you, I first need to instruct you on the important daily tasks and rules when it comes to being Mr. Lukas’s PA. He arrives at work at—” Seven in the morning, I say together with her, in my head. “You are not expected to be here that early. You start at eight a.m. on the dot. Try not to be late, he is a stickler for punctuality. Did you notice the café across the street?” she asks me.
Oh, you mean the café that makes the best coffee in all of America? Why yes, yes I am very familiar with them. I nod.
“They have been making Dean’s coffee ever since they opened. They already know his order and know to have it ready by seven fifty-five a.m. It should only take you five minutes to get upstairs. He takes a tall chai latte with two shots of coffee. You shouldn’t need to worry about it, but it doesn’t hurt to know it. Remember it, always.”
I write this down. The order sounds horrible to me, but then again, it could have something to do with the fact that he’s drinking something that’s created like a coffee, but is actually a tea. I also don’t like cinnamon, and it has a strong taste of cinnamon.
“There are three places in total Dean gets his lunch. You need to ensure that when he is in the office, that he has his lunch at his desk at exactly twelve p.m. Every morning at eleven, you will need to ask him what he would like for lunch and then ring the restaurant or café that makes it for a delivery.”
I’m in disbelief with this particular information. I can’t believe he has his PA come in like a damn waitress and ask him what he would like for lunch. Like what the damn fuck is that shit? I take a breath in and smile at Nancy. The poor woman has had to do this for him ever since he started this business ten years ago.
“I know what you’re thinking. It wasn’t a demand of his, it was something I had started.” I’ll just take that statement back, I think. She literally mothered him. “He hadn’t eaten lunch and had felt too dizzy to drive home. He’s so busy and such a workaholic, he will forget to eat.”
I write this down as well.
Note: Make sure man baby eats his lunch.
“There is one café, one Japanese restaurant, and one Italian restaurant on his list. From time to time you will be required to pick some general items up for him, as well as book in certain appointments for him, as well.”
“Like?” I ask.
“Dentist, doctor, tailors, cobblers, dry cleaners, etcetera.”
“Oh.”
She continues to rattle off the various rules and tasks I have to complete for Dean. There are so many it’s halfway toward being a tome. I feel like that meme with that dude rolling out a list written on parchment? Yeah, I feel like that meme right about now. Some of them are just ridiculous, like: ring the company that provides the fauna to come and replace the flowers scattered within his office… It’s all fake! I understand and am all for having real plants in an office. It provides clean air, boosts productivity, and is just visually pleasing, but to have someone come in to deal with fake plants is beyond absurdity. With all the money he has in the world, he can’t afford some goddamn real ones?
Others were more centered around the general daily activities of the business itself, and not a personal errand boy for Mr. Lukas, like typing updates onto the companies digital web board. This can be viewed by all staff members. Every time there’s an update, it sends out a notification.
“When you send out an invitation and reminders to people, there are different groups set up specifically for certain emails. There are ones just for management, ones just for teams, ones just for certain jobs and clients and one for the entire company. There is a list of the groups, and depending on what your email will contain, will depend on which group name you choose. I’ll show you once how to send an email, and then I’ll sit here and watch as you create the others. Always use a professional tone whenever you email people. Never casual.”
I watch on as she goes into a new email and then moves and clicks around until she has brought up a reminder. In the body of the email she types in what she has to say, and then in the Send To bar, she types in the group name. In the CC bar, she types in Brigitte’s name, Donald’s, and Dean’s. Proofing the email one last time, she sends the email.
“Do you think you can do that?” she asks.
“Yes,” I reply with all the confidence in the world.
We go through the other tasks with ease, and before I know it, it’s twelve thirty p.m. Nancy glances at her watch. “You’ve done well today, Tiffany. You’ve caught on a lot quicker than most have here.”
“Thank you,” I say with pure honesty.
I find myself becoming quite fond of Nancy. We don’t know each other, and our only time together has been while we’ve been training, but she has a warmth that you cling to. She’s the kind of person I would want to have as my mother.
“I think it’s time for lunch. I’ll go on mine after you—”
“Oh no, please. Take yours now,” I insist.
“No, no. I’m fine. Take yours now. You only get forty-five minutes. When I’m gone, there always has to be one person here at all times to take phone calls. You have a switchboard system set up, so any calls that come in for the company will come directly to you, and then you filter through to the relevant department. You shouldn’t get a whole lot, but sometimes there’s an overflow, or someone hasn’t chosen the right area, or they’re not sure where they should get put through to.
“If you ever need more time for lunch, you will be required to ask permission and stay back. Now go.” She ushers me off, tapping me on the shoulders so I get up from the chair.
“Hi!” a chirpy voice greets me. I turn around to see a girl with curly blond hair and a bright smile. Her blue eyes shine down on me.
“Hello, darling, how are you today?” Nancy asks her.
“I’m good. I just wanted to see if Tiffany here wanted to come for lunch.” She fiddles nervously with her nails.
“Tiffany, this is Brigitte, Donald Masterson’s PA,” Nancy introduces me. I smile at Brigitte and say hello. “Where are you going to lunch?”
“Me and a couple of the guys from the marketing team are going down the road to Toro. Would you like to come?” There’s hope in her eyes, and I feel sorry for her that this entire rel
ationship of ours is falsified and only exists because I’m trying to fuck over her boss’s boss. I’m not out to make friends, but sometimes it has to happen. It comes with the job description.
“I would love to. I love Japanese food,” I accept with the same enthusiasm as she had made the offer. Her tense smile slips into a natural one.
“Did you want me to pick you up something, Nancy?” she asks.
“No, love, I have left over stir-fry Gerald made me last night,” she gratefully declines.
“Okay. Come on, let’s go.”
I follow Brigitte to the elevator and then down to the fourth floor, where the marketing and advertising department is. These two departments work closely with each other, hence why they share this floor with cubicles that are so close they almost seem stacked on one another.
“How are you finding your first day?” she asks me as we step out and into the throng of cubicles and people wandering about. They smile widely at me, which I return with obligated politeness.
“It’s good. There’s a lot to learn, but I feel I’m picking it up easily.”
“Good. Dean is a stickler for perfectionism above all else. If things aren’t done to the standard with which he expects, then all shit breaks loose. I don’t know if I could ever work with him. He’s incredibly handsome to look at, but even still. Donald is much nicer, and more approachable. I always get nervous when I’m around Dean.”
We head toward the back of the room, and stop when we reach a four cubicle set up with a placard sign that simply says, Romero Group. I’m assuming that is the client profile they work exclusively on.
“Donnie, you ready for lunch?” Brigitte asks the guy I met earlier today.
He looks at me with a slightly perplexed expression and points to me. “Haven’t I seen you around before?” he asks, in obvious mock confusion.
Brigitte rolls her eyes and slaps him. “Don’t mind him. He’s the resident dad. Always coming out with these pathetic and lame dad jokes.
You consider that a joke?
I force a chuckle out, and Donnie looks at me with a satisfied grin. “New Girl seems to like it,” he proclaims.
“First off, her name is Tiffany. Secondly, of course, she’s going to laugh. This is her first day. Now where’s—”
A guy comes around and swiftly and lithely picks up Brigitte by her waist and spins her around. She laughs gleefully, and I suspect that maybe this is her boyfriend, by the way she’s giggling like a school girl. He places her down gently and kisses her on the lips.
“I hear you were looking for me,” he says lightly against her lips. Brigitte nods and kisses him.
“Okay, break it up you two!” someone calls from the distance, causing Donnie to laugh.
They do as requested, and the guy turns to face me, holding out his hand. “Hi, I’m Ricko,” he introduces himself, shaking my hand.
“Hi, I’m Tiffany,” I offer in return.
“Ahhh, yes. Mr. Lukas’s new PA. Good luck with that position. I’ve heard him to be quite the hard ass,” he says with a laugh.
Oh, I don’t doubt that at all.
“I’ve yet to see it. Fingers crossed I never do.”
“Oh, you will. Most of us have seen it. This company being his baby, he prides himself with being the number one marketing and PR company in the country. You don’t get that respectable title by being a cuddly teddy bear,” he states as we make our way out of the building.
“Is he really that bad?” I ask Ricko.
Brigitte slaps him across the stomach. “Don’t listen to him. He’s being a dick and trying to scare you. Dean is a fair boss, but he does expect perfection. Just don’t do anything that could cause a major upset to the company, and you’ll be fine. Oh, and don’t forget his coffee. That is the most important thing to remember above all else,” she ends in a more serious tone.
“Oh, I totally understand. Coffee is incredibly important to the daily function of a person,” I respond, equally as serious.
They all laugh, and Donnie claps me on the back. “You two are going to get along fine then.”
As it turns out, the restaurant is literally a few buildings down from the office, which will make traveling there easy for the days he wishes to have Japanese. It’s design is a mix of contemporary and Japanese classic, and you wouldn’t think it could be done well, but these guys seem to pull it off.
“Irasshaimase!” the staff greet us as soon as we enter. The others give them a little bow and I follow suit.
“Kon’nichiwa!” they all say in unison.
I look on in amusement at how close these guys seem to be. It’s nice in this day and age that they take the time to know their customers and how to greet them and in turn these guys have taken the time to respond in kind. We make our way to the front; Brigitte picks up a menu and stands aside to show me.
“I love this place. It has traditional Japanese sushi with a fusion. It’s amazing what they’ve done. This California roll has real crab, not the fake shit you find these days with a miso mayonnaise. It’s the most amazing thing I’ve ever had in my life. The sashimi here comes with this special dipping sauce. Now, I’m not entirely sure what they have in it, but it’s damn good. Um… what else is good.”
“Seared tuna. You can’t go wrong with that.” Ricko leans over and taps on the picture of the item on the menu I’m holding.
I peruse the menu. They have a variety of sushi and sashimi that looks mouth-watering. After a few minutes, I choose to have the salmon sashimi, as per Brigitte’s suggestion, and a katsu makizushi with a kimchi and miso sauce drizzled on top and seared with fire. We collect our food and then venture out to a nearby park, taking a seat at a table under a tree. It’s an absolutely beautiful day. The sun is high, but there is a slight chill in the air that soothes the heat from the blazing sun. Unpacking my lunch, I remove my disposable chopsticks, opening the little container full of the special dipping sauce. It’s runny and dark, and could be mistaken for soy sauce, however it’s far from it. The taste is absolutely intoxicating, and I can’t quite put my finger on what it is. I get a hint of all these various flavors. Soy sauce, sesame oil, and a sweetness I have never had before. My eyes instinctively close and I moan my appreciation at the flavors dancing on my taste buds.
“I take it you like it?” Brigitte asks with a smile.
“Mm-hmm. This is the best sashimi I have ever had before. I think this is officially my favorite place in New York,” I declare.
“Just you wait till you go to Gerrards. It’s the hot spot bar and club for New Yorkers. We should totally go there soon!” Brigitte squeals a little.
I act excited and join in on the merriment. The perfect act of feeling acceptance and glee at making new friends. In reality, I don’t want to be friends with her. I already have a friend, and she’s all I need in this city. It’s not because I don’t want them. I would love to have a bunch of friends to hang out with and do girly things with, but this job doesn’t exactly afford me with that type of normal life.
I smile as we eat and fall into a comfortable conversation as we get to know each other. They ask me about my life in Los Angeles. Why I left and what I did before coming here. I’ve studied my new identity to a tee. I’ve recited it over and over again to ensure that I recognize and know the person I’m meant to be outside of Taylor. The person who is literally going to become my life for however long it’ll take to make Dean fall for me and for me to destroy him like he did to Skylah.
It’s all incredibly boring, and I have to force myself to pay attention to what is being said. The guy—don’t remember what his name is because he’s so damn boring—is drawling his way through his presentation. I never realized someone could literally take on the form of a sloth, but here we are ladies and gentlemen, the most boring person that has ever existed in the world. How can his team and Dean handle him? This meeting could have been over an hour ago, were it not for this guy. The only upside is knowing that he’s the last person to speak.
My eyes skim over the attendees at the meeting, and some have his full attention, whereas others are attempting to seem as if he has their full attention and failing rather miserably. Others have their heads in their hands and have fallen asleep.
I could feel sorry for him, considering he knows just how slow he is by the way his nervous eyes keep flitting around the room at his audience. I’m not entirely sure why they didn’t just get someone else to present to the group. Someone who can speak a little faster, but I’m not the one who has set up this team. Dean must know what he’s doing if he allowed this hire. I look at Nancy who appears to be rapt in the conversation, but I know isn’t. It’s the way in which she fiddles with the sleeve of her top. A telltale sign of impatience. She’s trying to find something else to hold her interest. Every now and then, she will write something down or scribble a drawing.
Twenty minutes later and we are filing out of the meeting room. I close the door behind everyone as they all excitedly and hurriedly make their way to the elevator. The sloth shot out of the meeting room as soon as it was finished probably not wanting to be with his colleagues any longer than was required for embarrassment. I was surprised to discover he doesn’t move like his epithet.
“How was the meeting?” Brigitte asks cheerfully.
Yeah, she has something to smile about. She was asked to stay back to man the phones, while I had to sit in a meeting that had started off well and interesting, and ended up like the first fifteen minutes of Lord of the Rings. Yeah, yeah, I know. I don’t like the movie, I’m the most horrible person in the world. Sue me for not liking something that is supposed to be fantasy and entertaining and ended up being a movie about some hobbit people walking across New Zealand. If I wanted to experience that, I would do it myself instead of watching other people do it for me.
“It was…” I don’t want to come across as mean, but as it turns out, there’s no need because she bursts out laughing.
“Sonny is hard to handle. He talks quite slow. It’s not his normal speed of talk, but he gets so nervous when he has to do this that he starts to talk really slow.”