I yawn. “Good-bye, Cruella La Bitch…”
Chapter 3
Home Sweet Home
I woke up an hour ago, still a little drowsy from last night but walking on air nevertheless. I stuff my letter of resignation in an envelope, address it, stamp it, go to the mailboxes, and drop it in the outgoing mail slot. It’s only right that I do this. I’ve received six frantic voice messages from Cruella La Bitch. She fired me in the last one. Not once did she ask if I were okay. For all she knows, I could’ve gotten hit by a bus. It happens!
It’s ten thirty a.m. My cell phone rings as I head back to my bedroom to get dressed. Once again, it’s Cruella La Bitch. I’m not even tempted to answer it.
I hum the national anthem as I scramble two eggs, brown a slice of toast, and warm up the coffee I made earlier. I take my time eating while reading the first chapter of The Great Dame, Monroe’s book. I had promised her I would read it and tell her what I thought.
Jack never told me what my new job would entail, but I’m sure it’ll be a hell of a lot better than what I had before Patty fired me. I grab one of the suits I bought for job interviews. It’s a sensible navy blue with a pencil skirt and nipped in the waist jacket. I once read in a magazine that if a candidate is pulled together for job interviews, then potential employers will view her as organized, efficient, and professional. The article provided images of this inspiring suit. I went out and bought three just like it: one black, one navy blue, and a pale gray pinstriped one.
To my dismay, I’m unable to rub off last night’s red lipstick. It was the permanent kind. I brush on mascara, pin my hair up, and slide into a sensible pair of closed-toed pumps. I jump in front of the bathroom mirror to take a look at myself and gasp. Instead of a lowly associate-slash-assistant, I’m looking at the boss. Maybe it’s a sign.
Before beating the pavement, I print out a few resumes just in case HR asks for one, Google A&RT’s address, and learn that it’s A&R with a small “t” Media Group. I snatch my long trench coat out of the closet and walk to the building near Rockefeller Center. It takes fifteen minutes to get there, walking at a perspiration-free pace.
I take the elevator to the twenty-second floor. For the first time since hearing about the new job, I’m nervous. There’s no time to panic. The elevator doors open, and I’m right in the thick of it.
That old familiar New York energy buzzes in the air. People work diligently in cubicles. Offices surround the cubicles. I can see inside all of them because the blinds over the windows are open. I scan the floor wondering where they’ll put me. With my luck, I’ll probably be somewhere out of sight and out of mind.
I feel a tap on my shoulder. “Excuse me, are you Maggie?”
I turn spastically. “Yes.”
“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you,” says a woman with a pleasant smile, long brown hair, and curves that go on forever.
“That’s okay. I mean, yes, I’m Magnolia Conroy.”
She extends a hand. “But you prefer Maggie?”
I arch an eyebrow and accept the offer to shake hands. “Um, yes, I do.”
“That’s what we heard. If you could follow me.” She’s still very pleasant.
People are always nice in the beginning. The claws don’t come out for at least two weeks. Wearing the blue suit was spot-on. She has on one just like it, and her whole demeanor screams organized, efficient, and professional. A number of people look up to notice the new girl.
She stops at an office with a closed door. “By the way, I’m Linda Matthews, your assistant.”
I can’t stop my eyes from bulging in disbelief, but other than that, I hold it together. “Thanks, Linda.” What sort of situation did Jack finagle for me here? I have an assistant?
She knocks on the door. We wait together in awkward silence. My skin has grown hot under my jacket, and my head is light. I just might pass out.
A fashionable woman in a mustard-colored suit opens the door. She puts the article I read on what a suit says about you to the test. Her skirt is pleated and her jacket is fitted but short and flirty, yet she embodies professionalism. Her hair is jet black, and her tan skin is flawless.
“Hello, Maggie.” She shakes my hand. “Please come in.”
I turn to Linda. “I guess I’ll see you soon.”
“I’ll be at my desk.” She smiles.
I go into the woman’s office, and she invites me to sit in the chair across from hers.
“I’m Lena Chance, the Executive Director of Corporate Communications and Marketing,” she says.
“Oh.” I’m caught off guard. “I thought I was meeting with HR.”
“Yes, well, I thought we should get acquainted first since this was so sudden.”
“Very,” I admit.
Lena grimaces. “If you don’t mind, how are you acquainted with Vincent Adams?”
I wonder if she knows she’s making that face. I sit straight and show her my world-famous poker face. “Truth?”
She gets comfortable in her seat. “Sure.”
“I’ve never met him. I was referred to him by Belmont Lord.” I take a freshly printed resume out of my satchel and hand it to her. “He thought my credentials fit the job.”
Her scowl transforms to a look of intrigue. “Belmont Jaxson Lord?” She sets the resume on top of her desk without even glancing at it.
“Yes.” I try to sound confident. I don’t want to lose momentum by revealing that we’re related. “He was my mentor while I was earning a MBA in marketing at Columbia University.”
“Oh, what a lucky girl.”
That must be all she needs to hear because she’s done vetting me. I nearly faint when I learn that my new job title is Marketing Manager of Corporate Branding. I’ll handle how we’re branded at corporate events, and I’ll seek new event opportunities to showcase our company’s products. In a nutshell, this job is the reason I went to graduate school.
Lena shows me to my office. It has a view of another skyscraper and not even a slit of sky. I have a nice-sized desk and chair and enough space for a small sofa. Two large black and white stills of New York City are tacked on the wall. The office is contemporary and tasteful. I can hardly believe it’s mine.
“I sent you a number of emails that I want you to look over,” Lena says, standing in the doorway of my new office. “Vincent Adams is in L.A., but he’ll be back for our meeting with him on Friday morning. Be ready to toss some ideas around for the IK App. I heard you have experience with apps?”
“I do.” I’m itching to sit in the executive-style chair behind my new desk.
“Good. We’re really looking to corner that market. I imagine that’s why Vincent was happy about having you on board.”
“He was?” I sound surprised.
“We’ve been interviewing for this position for a month. We had three solid candidates, but he called me early this morning and told me you’re the one. When the CEO and owner speaks, I listen. But I have no doubt you would’ve been one of my top candidates.”
I hesitate. She said candidate, not choice. I feel my eyes expanding. I don’t want to be the office pariah because I received special treatment. “Right,” I say.
This won’t be an easy ride. If I fail, they’re going to let Vincent Adams know it. The second Lena leaves, I get cracking by reading the emails she sent. They’re meeting notes, press releases, and technical literature regarding the IK, or In the Know, App.
Around six o’clock, Linda peeks into my office to ask if I need anything from her. She startled me a bit. I forgot I had an assistant. I think about what Patty would do in this instance. Patty would’ve insisted I stick around just to remind me who’s in charge.
I smile pleasantly. “No, I don’t need anything this evening. We’ll work on some projects later this week. Have a good evening.”
She tilts her head. “You’re not going home?”
I shake my head. “I want to make sure I’m ready for Friday’s meeting. I have a lot of HR orientations
tomorrow and Wednesday.”
She steps into my office. “I can help you get up to speed.” The look in her eyes tells me she’s ambitious.
Last Friday, I was in her predicament, stuck and having no idea how to move up. “Sure. If you have the extra time.”
“I do.”
“Then sit down. I’ll order dinner from Naggio’s. They deliver.”
“I can do that. It is my job.”
“Not anymore. Sit.” I power on my cell phone. It convulses from the sheer number of voice messages. “I’m able to order my own lunch, get my own coffee, and book my own flights.”
She throws her hands up. “But that’s my job.”
“You’re a communications and marketing assistant, not a personal assistant.”
“But there are forms you have to fill out and processes involved in booking flights.”
“Then I’ll fill them out and learn the process.”
She sits back, cross her arms, and looks impressed. “You’re going to rock the boat. Most of the managers around here are afraid their assistant will take their jobs, especially hot ones like me.”
I laugh. “Not me.”
“Well, you’re hot too.”
I laugh louder. “Whatever.”
Before we venture further down that path, I hit Naggio’s speed dial on my cell phone.
Later, after we’ve researched events that cater to specific demographics, Linda fills me in on everything Vincent Adams while we eat dinner. I learn that he’s a bachelor and “hot,” but he only dates models, professional dancers, or actresses—basically, no real, down-to-earth women. According to Linda, his picky taste extends to the way he runs the company. He’s meticulous and aware of what goes on in every department. He personally interviewed every person who works for the company.
“When he looks at you, it’s like he’s staring through you. He blinks, but you hardly notice it,” Linda says. She widens her eyes, doing a Vincent Adams impression.
“Then he looks like a serial killer!”
“I look like a serial killer. He looks hot. He’ll probably interview you too. You’ll see what I’m talking about.”
“I hope so.” I laugh, although I don’t mean it. I wouldn’t do so well under an interrogation by a boss with crazy eyes.
It’s minutes past ten p.m. when we finish up. Linda leaves before I do because she has a thing in Chelsea. She appeared on the verge of asking if I wanted to go with her, but then she remembered I’m her boss and thought better of it. I wouldn’t have gone anyway because all of a sudden, I’m struck by fatigue from being out too late last night. The stress of starting a new job and bailing on the Black Marble meeting has wreaked havoc on my nerves. If it weren’t for the new job endorphins, I probably would’ve conked out a long time ago.
I collect my bag and leftovers from Naggio’s and drag myself to the elevator. Surprisingly, I’m not the last person working tonight. There’s a meeting in one office, and few others are working on their laptops in their cubicles.
The elevator doors open. I’ve seen the face of the man who’s staring back at me. He was at the wedding. He’s the guy who was gawking at Mandy Hill. The tall drink of water must be Vincent Adams. I thought I’d recognized his face from somewhere. I try to think of where that might be, but I’m suffering from a major mental block.
“Excuse me,” he says. I’m blocking his path.
“Oh.” I step aside to let him pass.
My skin is hot under my jacket. He looks better up close. If he’s into super-hot women, then I haven’t a chance in hell. I’m not unattractive, but I’m not the prime rib on the menu either.
He gives me a slight smile and says, “See you on Friday.” He walks right past me.
When I get into the elevator and face the office, I’m determined not to watch him. I don’t want the big boss to think I’m hot for him. Right before the doors close all the way, he walks past. Our eyes connect.
Damn. That was intense.
It’s about thirty degrees outside. Spring is two weeks away. I pull up the collar of my coat as I walk through the city. It’s never a lonely walk. People are always out and going somewhere, even at three o’clock in the morning.
So that’s Vincent Adams? I would’ve never noticed how penetrating his gaze was if Linda hadn’t mentioned it. But she’s a hundred percent right. He shouldn’t feel so familiar. I know I’ve seen him before, but I can’t remember where.
I take less time to get home than I did to get to work. Jimmy, the nighttime doorman, lets me in and we exchange hellos and goodnights. I kick my shoes off as soon as I enter the apartment.
“Home sweet home.”
I turn on my cell phone. I’m maxed out at twenty new messages. Most of them are from Patty, calling me every name in the book. There’s a calmer message from Lori, the head of HR at Make it Work, Inc. She asks me to meet her at eight a.m. tomorrow so we can discuss how to handle job references. She also wants me to complete the exit form and interview. I can’t help but chuckle. I want to go in just so I can rub my new situation in her face, but I don’t have the time.
“I hope you hold your breath,” I mutter and delete their messages.
I return Monroe, Cleo, and Hannah’s calls. Thank God all three went directly to voice mail. I let them know that Jack found me a new job and it’s perfect. I tell them that I’m too beat tonight but will talk to them tomorrow.
I drop my coat and my jacket on the floor in the hallway and step out of my skirt in front of the bathroom. I only have to peel off my blouse when I make it to the bed. I fall face forward onto the mattress, close my eyes, and I’m out like the bulb on a flickering streetlight.
Chapter 4
Peek-a-boo
It’s Friday. The week went by so fast and the days were so long that I didn’t have time to meet up with my girlfriends. I sat through two days of orientation, which included the company’s creed, how they got started, and every product under their belt. I signed papers for Human Resources and met with bank representatives to discuss my 401(k) package and special profit-sharing option. On Thursday, Linda and I spent most of the day preparing for today’s meeting.
I’m running a little late, so I speed walk to the building and through the lobby. I don’t have to wait long for the elevator. Once inside, I push my way to the back of the cab, close my eyes, and try to steady my breathing. My head is spinning and a thick film of perspiration layers my skin. A lot of scents swirl in the air, but one stands out. I open my eyes. Vincent Adams is at the front of the cab, facing forward. I shuffle a little to the left to hide behind two tall men.
The boss keeps his face forward. The doors slide open, and he steps out first. I creep out behind him, looking like a wet rat. I cut a sharp turn in the opposite direction even though my office is directly across the floor. The meeting starts in ten minutes, so there’s no time to go to the restroom and freshen up. I take the long way to my office only to see that Vincent’s office is right across from mine. His door is open, and he watches me as I plop into my chair and spark up the laptop.
Linda walks in. “I’ve printed out our research and emailed you an outline of everything we discussed yesterday.”
“Shit,” I whisper. My heart is beating out of control. “I didn’t mean to be late. It’s been a hectic couple days.”
“What do you mean late?” Linda says. “You’re early compared to the other managers. And we did the bulk of the work last night. I mean, you came up with most of it, but I feel like I learned a lot.”
I grin. “You did?”
Linda smiles. “Yeah.” She steps up to my desk and leans on it. “And he’s here.” She looks over her shoulder. “Oh my God, he’s watching us.”
“That’s because I’m late,” I whisper.
“I told you, you’re not late.” She lifts her eyebrows. “If I’m lucky, he’s checking out my ass.” She shifts her hips from left to right.
I can’t help but laugh. “By the way, I need you in the m
eeting with me. We’re a team.”
Her eyes expand. “No way, really?” She stands up straight with her hands on her hips. “You do know you’re rocking the boat, right?”
“Then let there be mutiny,” I joke.
Linda goes away laughing, which seems to spark Vincent Adams’s curiosity. He’s on the telephone, but he’s staring at me. I don’t even think he’s aware of it.
I get the good news that the meeting has been pushed back to eleven a.m. That’s why Linda insisted I’m not late. I take a few minutes to call Jack and get the specs on Vincent Adams.
“Hey, Mags.” He sounds as though I woke him up. “How do you like the job?”
I smirk. “Were you sleeping or have you just finished having sex?”
“Both.” He chuckles. “What do you want, kid?”
“First, I’m not a kid, and second, I want to thank the hell out of you for getting me this job. Jack, you’ve changed my life.”
“You should’ve asked for my help a long time ago. If you’re not happy, Mags, then I can’t be happy.” It sounds as if he’s reprimanding me.
I swivel in my chair to face away from Vincent’s probing eyes. “Yeah.” I feel my smile pulling my mouth in two opposite directions. “Hey, I wanted to ask you… Vincent Adams, do I know him?”
“Yeah, and he remembers you too.”
“He does? From where?”
“Remember those four months you lived with my parents in Denver? He went to school with you.”
“Vincent Adams…” I whisper. “I’m still coming up empty.”
I’m good at forgetting unpleasant experiences. After my parents divorced, my mom moved us to Denver to grieve. Those were the worst four months of my life. They wouldn’t have been so bad if Jack hadn’t already moved to L.A. As soon as he was free to escape Uncle Charles, he did. I don’t blame him. His dad was a supreme asshole.
“Do you remember Robert Tango? They were best friends.”
I gasp and slap my hand over my mouth. “I do.”
There's Something About Her, A Manhattan Love Story (LOVE in the USA, #2) Page 3