Come Fly with Me: A Collection

by Whitney G.

  “There,” he said. “Like I was saying, I highly advise you to read the fine print.”

  My eyes caught sight of the words “indefinite employment term,” and I damn near screamed. “Why the hell didn’t you tell me about this before?”

  “You never asked.”

  I felt my blood boiling, felt my hand being seconds away from giving him the slap he deserved.

  “Careful,” he said. “We both know that whenever you’re angry, you tend to say things you don’t mean.”

  “I fucking hate you.” I seethed. “Truly fucking hate you.”

  He smiled, completely unfazed.

  “This can’t count …” I still couldn’t believe this. “You printed the most damaging terms in unreadable, white ink.”

  “And?” he said. “Legally speaking, that doesn’t excuse you from reading them, and as someone with a law degree, surely your professors taught you to be wary of too much white space in a contract for the sake of hidden clauses.”

  “So, you’re admitting that you purposely hid it?”

  “I’m admitting that you should’ve read it.” He smiled. “Would you like to go over the Von Strum files now that you’re officially my partner on the project? This looks like it’ll be your most promising effort yet.”

  I stood still, glaring at him.

  “Then again,” he said, sounding somewhat sincere, even though I knew he wasn’t, “something tells me you need a break, so you’re free to go home and we can pick up tomorrow.”

  I didn’t say a word in response. I stormed right out of his office, straight to the elevator, and went the hell home.

  Fifteen (B)

  Tara

  “There is no way you can call yourself a lawyer after signing something like this.” Ava paced our floor as she read the highlighted sections of my contract later that afternoon. “Not to make you feel even worse, but I don’t know if I’d hire you if I got into trouble anymore.”

  “He printed it in white ink, Ava. White Fucking Ink!” I picked up a pillow and screamed into it for the umpteenth time.

  Ava ignored me and continued to read. “The employee is indebted to her employer for the full term of the contract which is a minimum of seven (7) years unless he/she should perish. The employee agrees that he/she will not submit a two weeks’ notice or any other notification regarding a self-requested termination without advance written approval from the employer. The previous clause is null and void if the employee is submitting the aforementioned notice within the final (seventh) year of employment.”

  I tossed a glass across the room and uncorked my third bottle of wine for the night. I couldn’t imagine working for Preston for one more year, let alone another five.

  “The employee agrees to discuss any issues with her employer as she is a C-level executive/employee and upon completing the first one hundred twenty days of employment (120 days), is no longer under the sole jurisdiction of the Human Resources Department.”

  “Okay, stop. Can you help me fake my death?” I asked. “I think I can live on the run for a while.”

  “No thanks.” She shook her head. “It says that for every bonus you’ve accepted, that adds an additional year to your contract. How many have you earned?”

  At least twenty. “Oh god!” I brought a pillow up to my face again, screaming even louder. “Why is this happening to me?”

  “It also says that if he dies, you’re out of your contract immediately, so you can always go the poison or allergy route. Is he allergic to anything?”

  “Every level of human decency.”

  She laughed. “Well, maybe try talking to him. You never know. He may just let you out of your contract just because you’ve been a great employee. I mean, outside of trying to get him to fire you, what other choice do you have?”

  “Wait, what did you just say about getting fired?”

  “The only other way you can get out of this thing is if he fires you for lackluster work and poor performance.”

  I smiled. “I can definitely do that.”

  Sixteen

  Preston

  I felt betrayed as hell.

  For two goddamn years, I’d worked alongside this woman and I never thought I would see the day when she had the audacity to turn in a two weeks’ notice. She was now my highest paid employee by far and her recent benefits were so over the top and beyond the scope of what any Fortune 500 CEO offered, that George made me submit to a quarterly psychiatric exam to make sure I knew “what the hell she was being offered access to.”

  I knew we had our heated arguments from time to time—that a lot of it was the result of pent-up tension she failed to acknowledge, but I refused to believe that I was as terrible a boss as she often made me out to be.

  I also refused to believe that she couldn’t see how much I’d given up for her. I hadn’t fucked another woman since we met because no other woman compared. I spent more time with her than with the women I used to date, and I could honestly say that she knew me better than anyone else. I was pretty certain I knew her better than anyone else, too.

  “Um, Preston?” George waved his hand in front of my face. “Preston?”

  “Yes?”

  “Are we going to talk about some business today, or are you going to continue mumbling to yourself?”

  “We can talk about business. Go ahead.”

  “Great!” He cleared his throat. “So, as you know, Parker International wants to get into budget hotels for some strange reason that the CEO won’t divulge, but he wants to start with the Von Strum chain.”

  “You don’t have to talk about me in the third person,” I said. “I’m right here.”

  “Miss Lauren has always insisted that I talk to you in the third person when we’re about to pursue something new. It’s actually helped previously.”

  “I don’t want to hear shit about Miss Lauren today.” I seethed. “Are we clear?”

  He blinked, setting his paper down. “Please tell me you didn’t fire her. Please.”

  I wouldn’t dare. “No, I’m just upset about something she’s done recently.”

  “Oh!” He shrugged. “Well, I heard about how she berated our marketing team in Seattle, but that’s nothing to hold against her. She saved you a lot of money and tons of bad press. Now anyway, back to the Von Strum chain. It’s a three-star hotel chain that caters to families, road trip travelers, budget-conscious consumers, and—”

  “Do you think I have a soul, George?” I interrupted him.

  “Okay, that’s it. I think it’s time that I schedule you for another psychiatric evaluation.” He looked at his watch. “It’s been about three months since the last one, so would you like me to ask if the doctor can see you this evening?”

  “Answer the question,” I said. “Do you think I’m soulless?”

  “Depends. Is this conversation off the record?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, with all due respect, Preston, I honestly think you’re an utter asshole.”

  “That’s not what I asked you.”

  “I thought we were off the record,” he said. “You are hands-down the most ruthless CEO I’ve ever worked for, and there have been plenty of times when I’ve thought you lacked a soul. Hell, I think the fact that you don’t have any family or friends in your life has worked to your benefit, but it’s also been a huge detriment in how you handle things sometimes.”

  “Do you think I’m evasive?”

  “You’re beyond evasive.” He laughed. “I’ve been working for you for eight years and I still have no idea who you are.” He laughed even harder and stood to his feet. “I’m going to get an energy drink, and when I get back, you’re going to be the all-business Mr. Parker that I admire. I’m not sure how to handle this other version of you.” He patted my shoulder as he left the room, and my mind immediately reverted to thoughts of Tara and that damn two weeks’ notice.

  I thought about asking her how I could be less “soulless” or less “evasive,” if that
would be enough to get her to be more comfortable staying. If I could tell her that I was willing to do whatever it took to get her to be okay with remaining here at Parker International.

  Maybe we can talk this out like adults.

  “Good afternoon, Mr. Parker.” Tara walked into my office, smiling. “Here’s your lunch.”

  “The interns are responsible for bringing me lunch these days. You know that.”

  “Oh, I know,” she said, setting down the tray. “But since today is such a great day, I wanted to personally handle it for you. I hope you enjoy everything, especially the mashed potatoes.”

  “Why the fuck are they green?”

  “They don’t look that green to me.”

  “They’re the same color as the salad.”

  “Maybe the chef put something in them, then.” She shrugged. “Here is the report on The W Hotels that you asked for earlier. I highlighted all the important parts, just as you asked.”

  I looked down and saw that she’d highlighted “the” in every sentence.

  “I’ve sent your cufflink and watch collection to a new jeweler to get them polished, but they seem to have lost a few of them.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Don’t worry,” she said. “They’re willing to give you a free twenty-dollar cleaning credit if they don’t find them by the end of the day. I mean, the shop’s name is Best Pawn Deals & Cheap Jewelry Cleaning, so I think they’ll do just as good a job with your valuables as the guys at Audemars Piguet or Phillippe Patek.”

  “I swear to God, if every single one of my watches and cufflinks isn’t accounted for by the end of the day—”

  “You’ll fire me?” She smiled. “Really?”

  “I’ll definitely—” I paused, suddenly seeing where she was going with this. “I’ll have to consider all of my options if that is the case, Miss Lauren.”

  If you think I’m going to fire you over some shit I can afford a hundred times over, you have another think coming …

  “Good to know.” She picked up a fork and placed it right into the green mashed potatoes. “Is there anything else I can do for you today, Mr. Parker?”

  I tapped my fingers atop my desk, temporarily distracted by her bright pink lips and form-fitting beige dress. “That’s all for now, Miss Lauren.”

  “I’ll be patiently awaiting your next request.” She gave me a slow smile, one of the rare flavors I couldn’t quite read, and then she left the room.

  The second the door shut, I picked up my phone and called Cynthia.

  “Yes, Mr. Parker?”

  “Can you kindly have one of the interns bring me some lunch? Preferably something without green mashed potatoes?”

  “Um.”

  “Um? By um, do you mean ‘yes and right away’?”

  “No, sir. I meant that won’t be possible. Miss Lauren let all the interns have today and the rest of the week off. She said you wanted it that way, so you could focus all of your energy on the Von Strum stuff.”

  WHAT? “Oh, I see.” I felt my blood beginning to boil. “Well, when you get a chance, can you please pick up a new order for me from the cafe that I like?”

  “Um, well.” She cleared her throat. “She let me off for two weeks, sir. I’m heading home to New Jersey right now. I guess I forgot to unlink my cell phone from my desk phone.”

  I ended the call.

  Okay, Miss Lauren. Two can play this goddamn game …

  Eighteen

  Tara

  I slept in for the first time in two years.

  Rolling over in bed, I looked at the clock and saw that it was only nine o’clock. I grabbed my phone off the nightstand and noticed that my text inbox was full and my unread emails totaled three hundred and seven. Out of habit, I was tempted to start answering them all, to call my town car driver and ask that he immediately rush me to work, so I could salvage the rest of the day, but I turned off my phone instead.

  If Preston didn’t fire me over five “lost” Audemars Piguet watches, then he would definitely fire me for not showing up to one of his most important strategy meetings of the year. I set my alarm for noon and rolled back over, falling asleep.

  Later that afternoon, I took a walk through Central Park before calling my driver and asking him to pick me up at a florist stand.

  “Is everything alright, Miss Lauren?” He jumped out of the car and opened the back door for me. “Everyone at the office thought something had happened to you and I couldn’t reach you on your cell phone.”

  “Everything’s perfectly fine. I just decided to take the day off.”

  “The day off?” He looked at me like I was speaking a foreign language. “Are you sure you’re feeling alright?”

  “Absolutely.” I laughed and slipped onto the backseat. “I’m sure.”

  As he drove, I turned on my phone and saw that my email inbox was now over five hundred messages, and the first page of messages were all from Preston.

  Subject: You’re an hour late.

  Subject: The Von Strum prep meeting is today.

  Subject: Why am I still missing five watches?

  Subject: Now, you’re two hours late …

  Shrugging, I turned it off again.

  “Can we stop at Sweet Seasons for coffee first?” I asked.

  “Of course.” His eyes met mine in the rearview mirror. “Good thinking, Miss Lauren. Mr. Parker is always more understanding when he has some coffee in his hand.”

  This coffee isn’t for him, it’s for me.

  I used Preston’s black card at the shop, treating every customer inside to a free cup on his behalf, and then I bought ten of their eighty-dollar gift bags for no reason.

  When I arrived at the office, the main receptionist stood up from her desk. “Miss Lauren?”

  “Yes?”

  She walked over to me, her eyes wide. “Miss Lauren, are you aware that you’re wearing sweatpants and a tank top? You know how Mr. Parker is about the dress code here. Would you like me to call your contact at Nordstrom and see if she can rush over a suit?”

  “No, that’s okay. I’m sure Mr. Parker won’t mind me looking like this today.”

  She swallowed and stepped back, looking as if she was the one wearing sweats instead of me.

  I gave her one last smile and walked over to the elevator bank, noticing the silent stares of everyone in the lobby. I held back a laugh and hit the button for the top floor.

  Stepping off the car seconds later, I swiped my card against the access panel and made my way to my side of the floor.

  “Good morning, George.” I spotted him sitting in the hallway. “Is it going well so far?”

  “Good morning, Miss Lauren?” He looked at his watch. “It’s four o’clock in the afternoon.”

  “Oh, I didn’t notice. Well, I hope you got a lot of work done today, then.”

  “I probably would’ve gotten a lot more done if you were here.” He looked at my outfit and shook his head. “Mr. Parker wants to see you. I suggest you change clothes first.”

  “No, thanks.” I smiled and headed to Preston’s office.

  When I stepped inside, I saw that he was standing by his windows—wearing the dark grey suit and silver chromed tie I loved him in the most. He was running his hands through his freshly cut hair, and for a split second, I almost forgot why I hated him so much.

  “George said you wanted to see me?” I asked, and he immediately turned around—instantly turning me on the second his eyes met mine. “I’m so sorry that I’m four hours late to today’s meeting.” I rushed the words out before he could respond. “Did I miss anything important?”

  “Not at all, Miss Lauren.” He eyed my outfit and stepped closer to me, and that smirk I was all too familiar with crossed his lips. “When I realized you weren’t going to arrive at your usual time, I told everyone we’ll start whenever you get here.”

  “Then maybe I shouldn’t have shown up at all.”

  “Maybe.” He closed the gap between us. “But
like I’ve told you previously, you’re incapable of being idle in the daytime.”

  “That’s probably the only thing you know about me.”

  “I also know that you’ve never been fucked properly,” he said. “But that’s a story for a different day.” He kept his eyes on mine and pulled his phone out of his pocket, holding it up to his ear. “Mrs. Vaughn, Miss Lauren has finally decided to arrive, and she’s wearing exactly what I expected. So, can you kindly come upstairs with the wardrobe I ordered this morning, so she can pick something more appropriate to wear for our rescheduled meeting?”

  I felt my jaw unhinging and bit my lip to keep my mouth shut.

  “I appreciate your assistance in this matter, Mrs. Vaughn.” He ended the call and returned the phone to his pocket. “You can take as much time as you need getting ready, Miss Lauren. Thanks to you, no B-level or C-level employee is allowed to leave this building until this meeting is finished, so it’s up to you whether people get to go home and enjoy the rest of their day, or whether they get to be a part of some game you’re attempting to play with your far-more skilled boss.”

  Son of a bitch …

  I stood there, glaring at him—hating that my nipples were hardening under my tank top.

  “Would you like some help getting dressed?” he asked, looking down and noticing my body’s reaction to him. He gently tugged the strap of my tank top. “I’m not opposed to helping you take this off at all.”

  Shamefully wet, I stepped back and stormed out of the room.

  He’d won this round, hands down. But I would definitely win the next.

  The next morning, I leaned back in my office chair—hitting ignore on my phone each time Preston called me.

  After ten straight rejections, he walked into my office and narrowed his eyes at me.

  “May I help you with something, Preston?”