by Katy Kaylee
And somehow, I had reviewed all of it in two days, approving of everything by noon on Friday with only ten hours to go before the party started.
Ugh. I wanted nothing more than to slink home and hide under my covers until Monday, but I knew I needed to go to the location and double check that everything was how it should be.
Because of course the party had to be held off location. Because rich, media people were annoying and so were the internet famous people they recruited. Or at least that was how I felt in my tired, cranky mood.
It wasn’t often that I let my work affect me so, but I just felt so on edge. Between my mind constantly flitting to the way Mr. Fitzgerald had looked at me when telling me about the party, and the seemingly endless list of minutiae I had to wade through, I was surprised that I hadn’t ground my teeth down into nubs.
I debated going to Mr. Fitzgerald’s office to tell him I was leaving for the party location, but I didn’t. On one hand, he told me not to check in with him for every little thing so it just made sense not to.
On the other hand, I was somewhat avoiding him.
I knew it was stupid. He was my boss that I was assisting so I was going to have to interact with him eventually. But was it wrong for me to want that interaction to be after I had a full weekend to myself and a chance to breathe? I was so run ragged and worried over the party that I felt like a raw, exposed nerve and even the slightest touch would just shatter whatever façade of control that I had.
I thought about getting on a bus, so that I could take my time and let my thoughts unwind, but I knew that would be wasting far too many minutes that I should spend on making sure everything was perfect for the party. Because it had to be perfect. Mr. Fitzgerald had made that very clear.
So, I flagged down a taxi, sliding my work credit-card through the reader in the back. At first, I had been quite nervous about having anything work issued that required me to spend money. But after all the coffee runs, food pick ups and dry cleaning that I had to do for Mr. Fitzgerald, I had quickly realized that carrying that amount of cash was just unfeasible.
Between the traffic, and the distance, it took me far too long to get to the place. Some sort of big, corporate space with floors one could rent out for parties and other important events. There was the signage that I had written in for and I could see the lights were on in the second-floor windows. Heaving a relieved sigh to myself, I headed up the stairs.
The door was propped open by a chair when I reached the landing, and let myself in. Sure enough, there was a team of interns and other assistants all setting up, as well as what looked like the DJ. Quickly, I did a walkabout, and I was relieved to see that everything was just as we had planned. How often did that happen?
I finally allowed myself a real sigh of relief and went to the large cooler that catering had brought. Just like I had requested, there were two of them, one with one containing allergen and gluten containing foods and the other free from all that. I figured nothing would crash a party like someone’s throat closing up or stomach turning itself inside out, so maybe I had been overcautious, but I wasn’t taking any chances.
“Hey there, Beverly, right?”
I looked up to see one of the head assistants in the entertainment division. Clinton, I was pretty sure his name was. A nice enough guy, and so pocket sized that it was hard not to want to shove him in my purse. He was a good worker and had helped to make a lot of my task easier over the past two days.
“That’s me,” I said, shutting one of the coolers and looking around once more. “But I prefer to be called Bev. Did you make sure that the bathrooms are fully stocked? Plenty of toilet seat covers, feminine hygiene products?”
He nodded, grinning. “Everything’s been checked off twice and then triple checked again. You’ve all planned a good party.”
“We’ve planned a good party,” I said matter of factly. “You were a part of it too.”
“P’shaw,” he retorted with a wink. “I just ran around and got you coffee. Ain’t no big thing.”
“Is that what you call it?” I asked, feeling myself relax ever so slightly. Clinton was a pleb like me. One of the few people I wouldn’t have to be as strict around. “Seemed like a big deal to me.”
“That’s only because you had an entire team’s workload thrown on you in just forty-eight hours.”
Now it was my time to shrug. “But hey, it worked out, right?”
“Knock on wood. You’ve worked hard. Why don’t you head home and finally get some rest? Trust me, we’ve got you covered here. I’m sure the head honcho is gonna be real pleased with everything you’ve done.”
“Thanks,” I murmured, feeling my face flush a little. “I guess I’ll just… head out then.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
He gave me a friendly nod and I turned to go, giving everything one last look over while I did. But I didn’t even manage to get out the door before my phone rang.
And I mean really rang. Not as in a text message or a notification, but an actual phone call. Who called people nowadays?
I wrested my phone from my purse, not sure what to expect. Telemarketer, maybe? Did I forget a bill?
But in wasn’t any of those. Instead it was a contact that one of the secretaries had programmed into my phone. One that had only been previously used for the occasional text message containing an order.
Mr. Fitzgerald.
I stared at it, letting it ring one more time before I realized that I needed to answer. Taking a breath, I tried to gather myself.
“Yes, sir?” I asked uncertainly.
“Ms. Viello. I checked your desk and the secretaries said they hadn’t seen you all day. Where are you?”
“I’m at the party location. I just wanted to check to make sure that everything was set up properly. I’m about to head home now.”
“Head home?” he questioned, sounding cool as a cucumber while I was still trying to figure out why he was calling me when a text would have surmised. Fitzgerald wasn’t exactly one to waste time on inefficiency.
“Yeah. I double checked everything and it’s all going well.”
“But if you’re at home, how are you going to attend the party?”
I swallowed, feeling my mouth going incredibly dry. “Attend the party?”
“Of course. I need you there to take notes on everyone I talk to and what we talk about, and anything else interesting that sharp mind of yours might pick up.”
His compliment to my brain flew right over my head as panic quickly swirled inside of me. “I, uh, wasn’t aware that I would need to be present.”
“Of course. You planned it, it’d be a bit depressing to not get to enjoy at least a little of it.”
I scrambled for an answer. Something to get me out of the situation I very suddenly found myself in. “I think I’d rather enjoy some sleep.”
“Hah, won’t we all. But sleep is for the weekend.”
“I don’t have anything to wear, and that’s a lot of extra hours.”
Parties just weren’t my thing. I didn’t like being social, and I especially didn’t like being social with coworkers after hours. And I really, really didn’t like hanging out with coworkers after hours when there was alcohol involved. Whoever decided that work parties and getting drunk were compatible was an utter idiot.
“I’ve already added the overtime, plus an after-hour bonus to your check. And you said you’re already at the party location, right?”
“Uh-huh.”
“I’ll have one of my PAs bring you an outfit from wardrobe.”
“Oh, I couldn’t-” I was fully aware that wardrobe was full of either custom or designer pieces that cost an entire week’s check or more.
“Don’t worry about it. Besides, if you’re going to be working at the party, it makes sense to wear something that represents us well. I’ll see you soon, Ms. Viello.”
And then he hung up.
I stared at my phone, sputtering at the blank screen. Did he r
eally thing he could just order me to-
Well, actually, he definitely could. He was my boss and a super mega CEO who was used to getting his way. I was sure that I could just refuse and go home, but then I wouldn’t be a team player. And not being a team player was code for ‘soon to be fired’.
Rolling my eyes to myself, I headed to the bathroom and did my best to make myself look a bit better while I waited. I didn’t have a lot in my purse, but a brush, some perfume and a little bit of water splashed on my face could do wonders.
I tried to plan out my interaction for the rest of the party, how I would act and how fake my smile would have to be. It was exhausting, and I just didn’t have the energy for it, but I had to.
No wonder so many other assistants had quit before me. This went beyond competency, beyond smarts and being able to do my job. This was an endless slog uphill with a bunch of unfair requests.
I was just thinking bitterly to myself how unfair it all was when someone new stepped in with a package. Their eyes scanned between their phone and the room until they settled on me.
“Ms. Viello?” he asked, stepping forward.
I nodded, standing up to take the package. I knew it was my new outfit, but I waited until he was gone to open it.
And thank goodness I did, because once I saw what was inside, I felt my eyes go wide and my face burn vermillion. There was no way he was expecting me to wear that, was he?
I couldn’t believe it. As terrible and uncomfortable as I had assumed the night would be, it had suddenly gotten a whole lot worse.
Fitz
My driver pulled up to the party just bordering on fashionably late. Truth be told, it had been hard to contain myself and not show up early. I wanted to see Ms. Viello in the outfit that I had picked out for her. To see her how she reacted to the sudden responsibility that I had thrown onto her.
It wasn’t hard to guess that she wasn’t exactly a party person. Despite her eye for detail in planning them, I was sure that she viewed them as wastes of time. Would she be livid when I met her? Or uncertain, clinging to my shadow all night for a bit of extra security? I could only hope.
I headed past the security we posted at the outside entrance then headed up the stairwell to the appropriate landing. I felt more excited, more alive than I had in ages, anticipation bubbling in my middle.
Was it really just a silly little assistant causing all this hubbub inside me? It didn’t seem probable, but when I spotted her just inside the entrance, clearly waiting for my arrival, it wasn’t like I could deny it.
She was wearing the dress that I had picked out for her, a hugging, emerald dress that was just casual enough for the party but just upscale enough for everyone around her to know that it wasn’t cheap. She was an absolute meal in it, her cleavage nearly spilling over the top and her wide, luscious hips taking the fabric to its absolute maximum.
Her legs were clad in the same plain, sensible stockings that she usually wore with her skirts in the office, but her feet were decked in black, velveteen wedges that I hadn’t seen her wear before. Had those just been in her purse, or had she had one of the many other assistants go fetch them for her?
I hadn’t been sure if she would actually wear the dress. I had almost expected to come to the party to find her stubbornly in her own cloths with that defiant tilt to her chin which made me want to conquer her that much more. But to see her all decked out in what I had chosen for her, put on display like a beautiful work of art… it made the night that much more interesting to me.
“Mr. Fitzgerald,” she said, and for once I could see that she was struggling to keep her mask of professionalism in place. “You’re here.”
She looked like she didn’t know whether to be relieved or upset about that, but that suited me just fine. My mind was still lingering on how the dress clung to her every curve, my body thrumming to reach out and touch her.
“That I am,” I answered calmly.
She had taken her hair down. It was the first time I had ever seen her without her severe bun, and I had never realized just how long her hair was. Falling in thick, gentle waves, it went almost halfway down her back. If only I could just wrap my fingers up in it and pull her towards me…
“According to the guest list the entertainment division gave me, almost everyone is here. I wrote a list of who might be the most advantageous for us to speak to, so do you-”
I stepped forward, raising a hand to lower the tablet that she had brought up to hide her face. She looked up at me, her green eyes wide before she caught herself and that impenetrable demeanor slid back into place.
“None of that for tonight. People can smell it when you have an angle. We’ll just walk the party and have whatever conversations that present themselves.”
“That doesn’t sound very efficient,” she argued. Because of course that would be her objection. Not the dress, not the shoes, not having to work a ridiculously long day on top of a ridiculously long week. No, it was the thought of wasting time, of suboptimal planning that had those full lips of hers contradicting me.
“This is one of the very few occasions where efficiency is not a good thing.” I offered her my arm, but she just looked at me. I swore smoke was coming out of her ears as her mind churned, but eventually she just gestured to the catering table.
“Can I get you a drink, Mr. Fitzgerald?” She asked instead.
Oh well. The arm thing was a gamble as it was. “Sure, lead away.” I said. Normally I wasn’t a following kind of guy, but I wouldn’t mind seeing the view as she walked away.
It was everything that I had been hoping for, each of her round cheeks barely contained within the satin dress. It was something else to watch them try to fight past each other, and I barely managed to avert my eyes in time before she turned back to me with an empty cup.
“What would you like?”
“I’ll take a water bottle,” I said. It seemed like she barely contained rolling her eyes before turning back to one of the workers at the table. She said something I couldn’t quite catch, and then they handed her two water bottles.
“Here you are, Mr. Fitzgerald,” she said, handing one of them over to me.
I took it from her but didn’t unscrew the top yet. Gesturing to her own, I raised one of my eyebrows. “You thirsty?”
“Yeah. It seems that having surprise responsibilities that involve a whole lot of social interactions can lead to dry mouth.”
It was the first time that she had mouthed off to me since that one time about the notes and it took quite a bit to hold back my smile. I liked the way she challenged me, keeping me on my toes.
“Are you telling me that you aren’t a social butterfly, Ms. Viello?”
She seemed to realize exactly what she said to me, her cheeks flushing before she quickly recovered. “Did I give you an impression otherwise?”
“Honestly, I can’t say. For working almost a month together, I don’t know much about you.”
“Well, that’s not true,” she answered. “You know that I’m quick, efficient, good with small details and the job itself. What else is there?”
I couldn’t help a short laugh. It was maybe the longest sentence that she had said to me since the whole note situation, and I wanted to hear more. “Certainly, there’s more to life than your job.”
She glanced up at me sidelong, her thick lashes obscuring much of her expression. “That seems strange, coming from you.”
“Does it?” I asked, turning to face her fully. She kept herself in profile relative to myself, but I didn’t mind.
“Yeah, you’re Mr. Fitzgerald, who built his own media empire all on his own from the young age of twenty. You’re not exactly known for taking it easy.”
“No,” I murmured. “I’m not. But just because I’m relentless doesn’t mean I don’t know how to have fun outside of my job.”
“Is it really a job when you own the place?”
“If it wasn’t a job, then I wouldn’t need an assistant, would I?”
When I glanced down at her she had the tiniest of a smile, her cheeks coloring ever so slightly. “Fair enough. And I do like having a steady paycheck, so let’s leave it at that.”
I opened my mouth to keep it going, feeling more entertained than I had any right to, when suddenly someone was in front of me, their voice far too annoying and fishing for the moment.
“Ah! Fitzy, it’s so good to see you!”
Only all my years of control kept me from grimacing at the sound of a very specific talent agent.
Normally just an agent wouldn’t have the ability to talk to me like that. Let alone use such a juvenile nick-name, but Charles Van Meter was an old friend of the family that I’d known since I was eight, and there were certain passes I gave the man.
I supposed it helped that he had led my company to some of its most lucrative talent matches in our early years and I probably wouldn’t be where I was without him.
“Charlie,” I said with a nod. “Good to see you.”
“Really? Cause your face doesn’t say that!”
The downside of doing business with someone who knew you too well. “My assistant and I were just discussing a rather irritating run in we had earlier today.”
“Oh, assistant, huh?” the older man asked, turning on that sort of endearing charm that only those in their sixties could have. “You poor dear. Ending your first week with a shindig? Fitzy, you are cruel.”
“Actually, this is the end of my first month,” Ms. Viello answered with that same sort of business-cautious tone she used with me. Good. She wasn’t fooled by Charles’ innocent old man routine. While the man was affable and preferred kindness over machinations, there was a reason he was one of the best in his business.
“Month?!” Charlie declared, hand over his heart in a flamboyant gesture. “Oh honey, you must be something. You sure you don’t want to quit working for this old bully and come to where you’ll be cherished?”
Normally I would have rolled my eyes at Charlies joking about poaching one of my employees, but I didn’t feel any sort of levity. Instead a slight bit of possessiveness burned in my chest. Ms. Viello was my assistant. She had come to work for my company, and if he knew what was-