Running Away to London

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Running Away to London Page 2

by Geiza Stefany de Oliveira


  “You don't know what conservatism is. I suggest you buy a book right now and find out.”

  Cotina turns her back on her right away and stomps away. I stand, adjusting the dress in its wrapping — it is pink, fringed, tulle and knee-length. The phone rings, my boss answers abruptly. He talks to some suppliers, asking for information.

  The atmosphere in this place is still tense in the same way, so my head starts to hurt. I have got to go to the post office to take the box after my boss takes a letter from its shelf and puts it on top of everything I do. The box goes to Milan. I think Elliott Pollentier is in love.

  How would he not be? That man is young, handsome and seductive. The sort of European beauty not cute, but abrupt, tall with treacherous features of an alpha male. His hair is passionate, mostly backward combed. He reminds me of old-guard men that I would fall madly in love with.

  Elliott Pollentier is a type of nuclear bomb about to explode. Whoever is the victim of your passion I wish all the luck in the world! Once again I will be back sometime later knowing that I have got lost 2 pounds just today. My back calls for help, but my work has just begun.

  My boss needs more than dozens of things that I do. Every time I go back to his office he is arguing with someone. For him, nothing is good today. People come confidently into your office room and walk out completely downcast, not at all funny.

  The more time passes in here I am more afraid of being fired simply because my boss is unhappy with everything and everyone. Elliott has no more than 1 minute of smile and peace. After that, he becomes an evil wolf after little pigs.

  I lunch alone filling my plate with carbs. I suspect most here are vegan. Kim, with her friends, speak audibly about Wellington. That is when I realize everyone is tense around here.

  The only thing left for me is to try my best to do my job. I take my boss's suit from the main closet here. A slim suit that he will wear at a dinner party. This time when I come back, Mr. Pollentier is ready to leave with some sort of Louis Vuitton handbag.

  He waits for me propped on his desk, fiddling with his black iPhone. As soon as he sees me he gets up, I notice how taller he is than me. Mr. Pollentier takes the suit from me and without saying anything opens the empty suitcase for me to put on. And it all. He does not say goodbye even shake my hand.

  I know it is already at 6 pm, my body faints, I have got a tired face and I can hardly wait to go home. However, I see my boss walking down the hallway and his huge body streaked with notorious muscles. I concentrate. I can hardly wait to get home to remove all the Christmas decorations.

  Chapter 3

  Traditionally, we remove Christmas decorations on the 6th of January, in my country. This is also today's date. I even thought I should get home and take off the miserable decor I made, but I could not. Incidentally, I could not in the last 7 days, because the job is demanding all of me.

  I need to be spotless, which makes my room a real war zone. When I arrive I am already exhausted and without a good mood. Today, however, I sit on the couch, though exhausted, and I stare at my decor. I wish my last Christmas had been amazing and affluent, but even my flatmate went far from the traditions — Rebekah does not celebrate Christmas.

  There is still the fact that I practically spent the savings I had for the rest of my life on clothes, shoes, and bags. My desire to work at Pollentier Magazine did not come overnight. I did not start working by chance. I chased the Human Resources guy and now I will have got the experience of working with an amazing but rigorous editor-in-chief.

  I look at the small room where I live. There is only a 2-seater sofa here, facing a small TV and a huge window in the middle. The freshly painted white walls make this place look a little more decent, but the carpet does not. The side of the television is tiny tree Christmas pie I picked up from someone who had left in the building hall to anyone who would.

  The flasher wrapped around it only works half, only 4 red balls are hanging. At the foot of the tree, there is a picture frame with a picture where I am with my mother. I do not like to look at our selfie so much, because it makes me distressed with the longing I feel.

  I remember my Christmas past once again: my meal was good, without many demands, but I stayed alone in here watching Christmas novels until my mother called. My dream was the opposite, for sure. I wanted friends, family, boyfriend... the decor should be impressive and should have got gifts.

  I still get upset thinking it was nothing I would like, but I pick up a blank sheet. I look closely at my decorations and write down all the important points for my upcoming Christmas.

  Be beautiful and fragrant.

  Make a decent decoration that the most important holiday of the year deserves to the sound of the best Christmas playlist.

  Pack various gifts for the best friends I will make this year.

  Send gifts to my mother as she deserves.

  Planning a Christmas dinner with a lot of grapes passes if possible even in drinks.

  See the Queen's speech in my boyfriend's arms, preferably with an engagement ring on my finger.

  I have got already evolved at work considerably.

  And I did a lousy job last Christmas, but this year it will not be like that. There is no more important holiday to me than Christmas, and I will work needed this year so that everything goes perfect paper. I finish tidying up my mess at 10 pm.

  My day starts very early with Kim calling my number and ordering coffees, croissants and a real rich man's breakfast. Mr. Pollentier already arrives before me in the office. Although I can make it a few minutes early.

  I arrive with my pink coat full of bags in rain-soaked hands. I still have got to make Mr. Pollentier's coffee. I do as carefully as possible. These are days when my hair remains arrested over the Brigitte Bardot way I can.

  I wear a black dress extremely tight to my body enjoying that my belly is straight, like never! This routine is breaking up with me and it has not even started. Mr. Pollentier is eating everyone's liver. His scolding is too much for me because I also make mistakes and at 4 pm, when the sun has set, my performance drops considerably.

  Mr. Pollentier still looks at me with superiority. I hate that. He mentally rejects me, because he thinks I am too old for the job, but I still do the flawless work and always give the answers he wants to hear from me; I always do my homework. By no means did I enter this work unintentionally.

  I want to be in Pollentier Magazine because I know my potential and all I can do. At the moment, I am only Mr. Pollentier's assistant. That means I am only responsible for him and nothing else for the company.

  All my boss tells me to do is about him. I have got several notes on Kim's calendar about what I need to take care of his life; this includes talking to his nutritionist to prepare the proper snacks, for example. In my contract, I had to sign after reading that I would be available anytime Mr. Pollentier needed me.

  He does not want me around outside his office. Today I have got to make notes in his notebook about his remarks about Gisele Novak's latest work. For the first time since I started working here, I see my boss do lightly pondering about someone.

  I heard Kim say at one of the lunches that since he came in, it looks like the magazine has turned into something new. Everyone needs to conform to his conservative style that seems to come straight from the 1980s. Mr. Pollentier drives differently than his father was doing three months ago.

  The truth is that everyone is unhappy. I have got to make him a fortified coffee when he is leaving the office or when he visits designers, photographers... I still can not imagine him giving his opinion about an editorial essay inside his magazine. Maybe I am full of preconceptions in the head about the fashion industry now, but he seems so out of place in this world when it includes fashion art.

  I walk through my boss's office; he types in the notebook. I set the silver platter on his desk. I can see how he is dressed: he wears vibrant blue in closed-to-the-neck social trousers and shirt set. He puts on a black boot that loo
ks like leather.

  I notice his stunning hair that falls a little over his forehead. God, this man is beautiful! Still, without facing me he takes his cell phone out of his pocket and gives it to me on camera. He wants a picture. My boss pulls the food to himself after pushing the notebook and then settles on the pose that hypnotizes me.

  He looks at me like a model and that too serious and hot what makes me lose my balance. Mr. Pollentier intertwines his fingers under his chin with his elbows on the table. I take the pictures he wants and then, robotically he reaches for the phone.

  While he is having coffee I have got to go get some magazine issues from the house and elsewhere. I talk to Timothée, the oldest and most boldly dressed man in here, and he helps me by getting to know the editions like no one else.

  Sometimes, I do not remember everything my boss says and I do not write down every detail because he talks fast and asks for a lot of things. I arrive in his office watching him scratching his neck several times, but I look away. Elliott Pollentier is such a handsome man that facing him too much can be inappropriate.

  I put the magazines on his desk, he is finished the coffee. I grab the platter and my stubborn eyes stare at him for just a second. It is just a glance, but I could have got sworn I saw spots on his neck and face. I am already walking into the kitchen when suddenly a thought comes to me.

  I turn around, full of fear. I look straight at my boss which makes me drop the platter and so I draw his furious gaze to me. Before he can open his mouth to question me and Kim reach me, I cover my mouth with my hand. My racing heart makes me run wild, but I have to calm down!

  “What the hell happened to you, Luiza?”

  He asks me abruptly.

  “Your face, sir...”

  He stands up closing the laptop abruptly, Kim approaches widening his eyes to him and having almost the same reaction as me. Oh, I am very screwed now!

  Chapter 4

  Kim takes a horrified step back about to report what I did to my boss. What the crap!

  “You're having an allergic reaction, Elliott! For God's sake, get up!”

  He takes a deep breath after Kim speaks. He gets up angrily and I kneel without looking at him to catch the mess I just made here.

  “Was there nut in something?”

  I hear him closer and closer. I get up immediately with the platter in hand, terrified.

  “Yes, in the cafe.”

  I confirm. My boss is already in front of me, seems to feel nauseous, but is still very angry.

  “It was my fault, Elliott. I should have got told her that...”

  Elliott looks at her about to collapse. I am stunned and Kim also stops talking.

  "Do you know what this will cost me today?"

  He asks, too loud and red... too red.

  “I'm so sorry...”

  “You're fired, Kim!”

  It is a scream that makes me close my eyes and every part of me falter. I do not believe Kim will be fired after saving me.

  “But I...”

  “Go, before I end your chance of being hired by any decent employer in Great Britain!”

  I look at Kim, extremely upset. I have got no courage to say anything. She looks at me devastated but comes out humble... Oh no! I have got to do something for her... I will do something!

  “Luiza!” I hear my boss very close. He is almost jumping around my neck. “Stay here and clear all appointments of my day!”

  His blue eyes could be fire on me. I just nod. I leave the office room at once and when I come back he is no longer here. God, I almost killed my boss today! Kim still picks up her things, to my relief. I approach her immediately.

  “Sorry, but you don't want you to feel sorry for me.”

  She insists nervously.

  “I'll do what I can to bring you back.”

  “If you want to lose your job then go ahead. He doesn't take orders from his mother, and I'm talking about Audrey Pollentier!”

  She stands up with her Jimmy Choo bag already on her shoulders.

  “I swear I'll try, no matter if I have got to lose my job."

  She arches her eyebrow at me with a look of disgust.

  “You are a sweetheart.”

  I cross my arms at her seriousness, I know very well she meant I am crazy. I look at Kim carelessly.

  “It's not fair what happened here, he's still a man and what happened was an accident.”

  She shakes her head pouting.

  “Honey, you will still know who Elliott is. You could end up fired, like me, or become exactly as he is. Be careful.”

  I decide not to answer. Elliott and Kim do not know who I am. I go to my boss's desk, where I pick up his schedule and try to clear his appointments without stopping to think about everything that just happened. I find that it is not just picking up the phone and calling the names on the phone book.

  Even because I do not have got anyone's number here, and Kim left me into tightness in my heart. I get extremely nervous now, holding on to my job for another day or even when my boss's mood allows it. I get up and head to Kim's desk.

  I am looking for anything until I mess with your computer. I discover a notepad for beginners an hour later. Her phone rings and I answer it by clearing two appointments... I read the notepad for almost half an hour realizing the valuable tips until I see a suggestion on the desk drawer.

  I pull the drawer still nervous and see a white, aged notebook. There are lots of phone numbers in it, which helps me find everyone I need. It seems that this was easy. I do not have got to break my head to take care of Mr. Pollentier's life, but my spine pains.

  My boss does not break news... and why would he please your assistant? I have got concerns for him at the moment. The hours pass, until lunch arrives and the people keep staring at me and gossiping. I prefer to eat on the street, but not here! Things start to get tough from now on.

  I walk around in Mr. Pollentier's office dismissing any onlookers who arrive — they know the boss is not here.

  “He is not at the moment, but I can take your message.”

  I mean quiet with a skilled smile. Inside, I am shaking. Finally, 6 pm arrives and my legs do not hurt even my spine. There is no sign of Mr. Pollentier. I pick up my phone, desperate for news, but there is nothing new.

  On his Instagram, the only update was from the photo I took earlier. I watch the feed as I return home upset. There are a lot of pictures on his Instagram, especially one of his pajama dads... I am fascinated. His Instagram is from a fun, charming, trend-driven man.

  Why in the office is Elliott Pollentier this man? God, I remember 3 months ago, Mr. Anthony was gone. Then I realize the many images from various places. He never makes selfies. However, he travels a lot and has many friends. I see his slender, huge sister. She is a model, blonde, only 17 years old.

  They have got pictures in beautiful places, from Paris to the beautiful townhouse. I look at my watch after preparing the morning clothes I will wear with a clear coat. I fall asleep late at night, still worried about my boss. When I least expect it, at 2 am he calls me. I stare at my cell phone screen for a few seconds seeing his number in disbelief.

  “Hi, this is...”

  “Take your passport and meet me at the airport in an hour, because we'll fly to Milan.”

  Then he hangs up on me. I look at my cell phone screen, still lying on my stomach and grimacing.

  “What the crap!”

  I take a deep breath. I stand up in bewilderment, it seems my boss hit me with a shovel in the head. He did not tell me how many days we will stay and what we will do! For situations like this, I take one piece each, which can be versatile at any given moment.

  I look quickly at the poor weather in Milan. I pack a suitcase almost stuffed with things with medium boots and over the knee. So I dress in a huge boot, a thick black jumpsuit, and a black coat. I catch an Uber realizing that I'm going to Milan out of the blue.

  I smile instantly. I thought about that when I decided to work f
or Pollentier Magazine. I love this lifestyle! There is no demerit in being an assistant. Elliott may even deliberately press my head about my age and my job, but what matters is what I want.

  He will take me to Milan and I won't pay a penny more for it. I arrive at the airport in the middle of the somewhat disheveled night without understanding until my boss looks at me. He makes a curious look at my hair and my face burns with embarrassment.

  Chapter 5

  I run my hand through my hair as if it is casual. Elliott is critical, very critical. The gaze keeps going through me until it gets to my boots. My boss turns up the nose.

  I look at my boots wondering what is wrong with him. They are beautiful and cost me 60% off the original price. I take a deep breath trying to respect him. I notice the clothes he also critically wears voluntarily.

  On her slender body, I see a Calvin Klein set of printed pants and a shirt. He wears a black patent-leather shoe by Calvin Klein. He looks like a cool young man who does not care much about classic clothes. He does not even notice me watching him anymore.

  For a moment an image passes through my thoughts, of me embracing a man like him because everything I see attracts me so much. I look away from my boss. He stays silent all the time, so I have got no idea what will happen in Milan.

  Our flight is quiet and first of all, I have got already ordered a car for when we arrive. I did this at Uber while going to the airport. We arrived 2 hours later, anxiety will not let me sleep. My boss stays awake with me staring at nothing thoughtfully.

  I even think about asking if he is better, he looks a lot better, but I'm afraid of being fired. We go to the car waiting for us on the way out, and I love Milan. I do not hide my smile. Meanwhile, my boss talks in Italian brilliantly with the driver.

  I think we will stay anywhere but not Tirano. At no point does he stare at me. We arrived two hours later while I was asleep and my boss has got my cell phone.

 

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