by Karen Gordon
HiJack
By Karen Gordon
To secretarial goddesses everywhere--we all know you really run the world.
Chapter One
One of the advantages of living alone is that there is no one to judge you when you stand in front of your closet only wearing your Wonder Woman gold cuffs and tiara. I need to feel powerful this morning. I need to get dressed and go to work and to my lunch meeting with Mr. Rockhurst.
Not that I plan on wearing my Wonder Woman costume (although, I considered wearing it under my work clothes, minus the jewelry).
I spent the weekend deep in self-care mode. On my way home from work on Friday I stopped at the grocery to stock up on comfort foods. When I got home, I purposefully ignored the emptiness and busied myself with clearing away the last of the Danny messes then setting up my chick cave for a full-on pity party. Winter had finally arrived and the cold, rainy weekend ahead fit my mood to a tee. I washed and dried my pink hugging pillow then pulled my winter furry blanket from the storage chest. I wasn’t ready to sleep in my bed alone, so the couch would be my world for the next two days. While the water boiled for the potatoes I was going to cream, I lit lavender and rose candles.
Dom couldn’t take either night off from the restaurant, but we made plans for tomorrow to be a spa day for just the two of us. My phone kept dinging as I prepped for my night. It was Dom sending me more recipes for homemade masks, salt scrubs and deep hair conditioners. I always loved silence and usually spent days at home without turning on the TV or music. But tonight it was too silent, Danny’s voice conspicuously missing. So I played Vivaldi while I changed into my softest pink PJ’s then put the finishing touches on my dinner.
When I climbed under my blanket and settled in for my dinner, I was in Vivienne heaven—a heaping bowl of creamed potatoes topped with cheddar for dinner, a beautiful chilled rosé wine, followed by a dense chocolate cupcake. Once I had filled the hollow space in my core with food, I queued up the tears. City of Angels did it for me every time. It may have taken me days to break down and cry when my dad died, but Meg Ryan could get me there in less than two hours. I wailed. I sobbed until my chest hurt and I felt like I had cried myself dry. I cried for my dad, for Danny, for me, for Meg and for her Angel. Damn I felt for Nicholas Cage like I never had before—left alone in the world with all his love to give. I cried myself to sleep.
Dom scraped up what was left of me the next day. She molded me back into some semblance of my old self with lotions and potions, and lots of handholding and encouraging words. She brought Starbucks and chocolate croissants and her mama’s roast pork and plantains to heat up for dinner.
By Saturday night my mood had started to shift. Creamed potatoes were replaced by Puerto Rican comfort food. My pink jammies were tossed in the laundry in favor of yoga pants and a cami. Vivaldi gave way to Kelly Clarkson, and Meg and Nicholas were put back in storage. I spent the night on the couch watching Julia Roberts Eat, Pray, Love her way around the world. It was good to see someone else recovering from loss.
Now I’m in Wonder Woman mode, ready to tackle…I have no idea. Lunch, that’s obvious, but why?
I finally opt for a business suit, but give it some key Vivienne touches. For one, I skip the shirt. A strategically placed safety pin keeps the neckline of my jacket exactly where I want it. It’s intriguing and I add my delicate gold necklace with the Irish goddess symbol charm to boost my powers. I’ll take all the help I can get today. I keep my makeup and jewelry simple to offset the sexy effect of no blouse. And, my piece de la resistance—four inch heels. They’re classic pumps but with devilishly pointy toes that look like they could injure you. They will also make me exactly the same height as Joel Rockhurst. I checked online, he’s 6’2”. It’s harder to be intimidating when you are eye to eye.
✈✈✈
I feel fierce and ready for whatever he throws at me when I show up at Carolyn’s desk. She’s on her phone, but she smiles up at me and points to his door, indicating that I should go in. I smile back, suck in a deep breath and pull myself up to my full height before I open the door.
Joel Rockhurst looks like the CEO of a private jet company should, if you’re going by Hollywood standards anyway. He’s a sixty-three year-old silver fox, aging like Richard Gere or Kevin Costner—all distinguished and kinda sexy. He has the body of a man with a personal chef and a private trainer and just enough lines on his face to make it look like he hadn’t hit the Botox, yet. When I walk in, he’s also on the phone and fiddling with a golf club while he talks. He uses it to point to a chair in front of his desk, indicating that I should sit there. I sit on the edge. I don’t want to get comfortable until I know what this meeting is about.
As he finishes his call I study his office. Most of it is pretty generic for anyone in our industry--glamour shots of all the planes we make, awards for charity work, a few golf trophies. There are photos on his desk, probably of his family, but they’re facing away from me so I can’t scrutinize them. The décor says wealthy, but is more business than flash. Like him, it’s all understated. The desk alone probably costs more than my car, but it’s made to look more mundane and well-used. There’s a marble-topped table next to my chair with two industry magazines and an interesting paper weight. I can’t resist the urge to turn it toward me.
As he hangs up, he catches me and smiles. “Welcome to my office, Ms. Ramsey. I’m glad you could make it.” He doesn’t stand up to greet me. He’s keeping it casual, except for my name.
“Thank you.” I smile back and try to look relaxed. I don’t let go of the paperweight but instead pick it up. “EPR gauge,” I note. I study the face further. “From a 1960’s model J2.”
He laughs and shakes his head. “I was right about you.”
Ok, that was cryptic. “Sir?” I have to know more. Right about me how?
He pushes himself out of his chair and walks past me to the conference table at the far end of the room. “I hope you like chicken, Ms. Ramsey. I always have chicken on Mondays.”
What a perfect Joel Rockhurst statement. It sounds accommodating, but isn’t.
I shrug. “Chicken is great.” I stand and walk toward the table making sure I stand near him briefly and face him, eye to eye. He pulls the chair out for me and I sit. “Thank you.”
As he walks toward a bar cart he asks, “What can I get you to drink?”
I play it safe. “Water would be great.”
He returns with a glass of water for me and a glass of tea for himself. When he sets it down, I push a small plate containing lemon slices toward him and he nods. “You’re good.”
Ok, we’ve established that. I don’t think my nerves are showing, but my irritation might soon if he doesn’t get to the point.
He sits and immediately begins to cut his chicken and green beans. I follow suit. After chewing and swallowing his first bite, he finally gets to the point.
“Have you met my son, Jack?”
I pretend to be searching my memory, but there is no reason on God’s green earth I would know his son. Sure we’re about the same age, but we don’t exactly run in the same circles. “No sir. I don’t think so.”
“Well, he’s finished up at Duke and will be starting here in a few weeks.”
And we have an answer. He keeps talking but it’s clear. I’m here because I’m going to be working for Jack. He wants me to be his son’s secretary.
He is still talking, saying something about marketing and Jack’s degree, but I’m already scanning my memory for any tidbit of information on this guy. I come up with very little. All I really know is that he’s Joel’s son from his second marriage and must be twenty-two or twenty-three if he just graduated.
I take a bite of my chicken and try to casually chew it, but I’m already itching to get out of there and get to a computer to find out more about my new boss. Joel finishing a sentence with, “so, how does that sound to you?” snaps my attention back to him.
I hope my smile looks genuine. “It sounds…fantastic.” Because really, what else am I going to say? It sounds like a perfectly shitty idea, sir. It’s my new job now whether I want it or not.
“Of course, your new position will put you in a new salary grade. Carolyn will go over all that with you.”
I nod and I think he is wrapping things up, but then he pushes his plate away and leans in to me. “I’ve watched the work you do for Bob, Vivienne.”
He’s switched to my first name now. This has my attention.
“You are amazingly organized, hard-working, loyal. Jack will need someone like you to…help him.” He’s choosing his words carefully and I’m trying to read between the lines. “It may take him some time to adjust to a corporate schedule. I’m counting on you to help with that transition.” He puts heavy emphasis on the word help.
I nod like I’m in complete agreement, but I’m not sure why he’s stressing this to me. Is his kid mentally deficient in some way? Why is he pushing this idea so hard?
“I will do my best, sir.” Now, I’m really dying to wrap this up and get to a computer. “And, I truly appreciate you choosing me for this position.”
He seems satisfied that I’ve read his code words because he reaches across like he is going to shake my hand, only he squeezes it instead, like a family member or friend might. Are we conspirators now? Did I just join team Joel and Jack? It’s all sitting way too heavy in my stomach for me to eat so I excuse myself, saying that I had a huge breakfast and giving some lame excuse about needing to get back to my desk.
Thank god he lets me go. But then there’s Carolyn. As Joel ushers me out she smiles up at me like I just won the lottery and she’s giving me the big check.
“Here’s your packet.”
Joel excuses himself before going back in his office and shutting the door. I take the heavy packet from Carolyn and force as genuine a smile as possible. This could be the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Maybe I should be grinning from ear to ear, but I can’t do that until I know for sure. I don’t do happy on half information.
I peak inside the packet. “Wow, there’s a lot here. I’ve got some studying to do.”
“You’ve got time.” She reassures me. “You’ll officially start next week but if you want to I’ll give you a tour of your new office.”
An office. I get an office. Not a desk, an office. This is sounding pretty good already. I’m picturing an inside, smaller office, but I’m still thrilled. Chances are it will have a door. I’ve always wanted an office with a door. I can’t take the tour now. I just told Joel I had to get back to my desk. I beg off until tomorrow.
Now for the tricky part, I’m jonesing to google Jack Rockhurst like an addict needing a heroine fix. But digging the dirt on him on a company computer is not a good idea. This is a job for Dom. I text her.
Chapter Two
“Holeeee crap.”
Dom’s report isn’t very helpful. So far she’s cussed and laughed a lot. I have to be careful what I say to her because I’m sitting at my cubicle desk, the one without a door.
“Could you please elaborate on that? I’m afraid I don’t understand.”
“You, my Chiquita, are in trouble.”
“Still not clear.” I’m getting irritated and she is having way too much fun with this.
“Do you remember the movie Pearl Harbor?”
“The what?” She’s pushing me.
“We watched it at my house, the night that I snuck Luis in and you spent the night in the bathroom because the Chinese food we had made you sick.”
I’m digging through my Filofax brain for this reference and for a reason why she is bringing this up now. “Ok, yeah, I guess so.”
“So Ben Affleck was in that movie.”
“Ok.”
“Your new boss looks like Ben Affleck in that movie.”
I quickly do an online search for the movie and go through the pictures for one of Ben Affleck. Holeeee crap. “Really? Are you kidding me?” I stare at the picture some more. “I might be in trouble.”
I quickly shut down the site. I can write off a lot of strange research to helping Bob, but staring at Ben Affleck photos isn’t on that list.
“Could I get a report emailed to me on that, please?”
“Yeah, I’ll send you pics and stuff before I go to work.” Dom is quiet again and I can hear her keyboard clicking. “Oh, this is going to be good.”
“Great. Well, thanks for your help on that. I’m sure Mr. Brockhaus will appreciate the report. We’ll talk again soon. Bye.” I hang up on her.
Speaking of Mr. Brockhaus, I’m dying to know if he knew about this, although I’m sure he did, and when he found out. His job comes first and he would have risked it by telling me, but I’m still feeling a little betrayed by his silence. He knows me. He knows I hate surprises, all surprises. I text him the news and wait for his reply.
Congrats! I’m really going to miss working with you, but what a great opportunity.
Is it? There’s still that weird part of the conversation I need to figure out where Joel practically spelled out that Jack will need help.
Heads up might have been nice, but I understand. We need a farewell lunch, someplace very expensive, on you, before I go.
He replies.
Of course
Good, because I plan to pump him for information at this lunch.
I still have the rest of the afternoon in front of me. As tempting as it is to go home and read Dom’s email, I stay. I’ll have to start training someone for my job, so I decide to get a jump on things and create a Bob manual. We really have been a good team. I hope I can get something like it going with Jack. Then the Dom-induced picture I have in my head pops up with images of me and Ben Affleck doing very un-business like things in my office with a door. Holeee crap, I’m in trouble.
✈✈✈
Dom wasn’t kidding. He does look like a younger Ben Affleck. A little preppier, but damn. He is definitely the product of generations of WASP in-breeding—perfect thick dark brown hair, angular jaw line, amazingly-white straight teeth, and puppy-dog brown eyes. Danny has brown eyes. I love brown-eyed men. Not good.
I’ve only been home ten minutes and I’ve already read through her entire dossier. I mean, he’s not a celebrity, so there probably wasn’t much on him, plus she had to get ready for work. She ended it by promising me more tomorrow.
What I’m really looking for is what’s wrong with this guy. He looks normal. He graduated from Duke so he can’t be a total moron. There are lots of pics of him at society events here in Savannah and in Durham. He’s tall, like his dad, so I will definitely need to break out my four-inch heels again for his first day.
There were also pictures and sports articles from him playing rugby and lacrosse. Fuuuuck, those are a little too much. Thank God he won’t be walking around the office with his shirt off and messy, sweaty hair. Somehow, I’m going to have to immunize myself from any lust I might feel. I can’t fail at this job and I sure as hell don’t want to get fired. If he fires me I’m out of JetStream, permanently. There would be no going back to I-sales.
Danny. I need a picture of me and Danny. I could put it on my desk to remind me of him and it would let Jack know I have a boyfriend. Perfect. Except there are no pictures of me and Danny. There might be some of me in high school with my Dad and Danny, but those wouldn’t do. It looks like I have about a week and a half to learn Photoshop.
✈✈✈
I force myself to stop researching and starring because I needed to go through the packet, so I can return any paperwork Carolyn will need for HR.
My pay raise will be huge, almost double what I was making. Wow. As I read the amount and all the o
ther benefits I want to call my dad and share the great news with him. I could call Carla. She’d be happy. But it wouldn’t be the same. So I do something I’ve been doing a lot lately. I look up at my ceiling and talk to him. I have no idea if dead people can hear the living, so I just assume they can.
“Double, dad, it’s almost double. And stock options and lots of vacation time. Cool, huh?” I wait for an answer. I don’t know why. “So, did you have a hand in this?” Can he do that? Can he pull strings where he’s at? Put ideas in someone’s head? “If this was you, thank you. You’re still meddling, but thank you.”
I decide to call Carla after all. Maybe she can find a picture with me and Danny in it. I don’t remember any being taken, but it’s worth a try. We end up talking for more than an hour—about Danny, about my new job, about my new boss, about the crush she had on her first boss back in high school. We talk more than we ever have before and it feels great; both of us feeling more connected to my dad through the other, both of us noting his great taste in women. Before we hang up, we friend each other on Facebook and promise to stay involved in each other’s lives. And again I feel his presence, my dad still influencing my life, bringing good things my way.
It’s past midnight when I sign the last paper in the packet, reorganize it and put it back in the manila envelope. I’m emotionally drained and need sleep but Dom is getting off work right now. So I delay sleep for a consultation with my better half.
“You do realize that no matter what he looks like, he’s forbidden fruit, right?”
For Dom, the queen of sappy romance novels and lover of Lifetime movies, this is a huge let down, one she is not ready to accept. “Yeah, but if you two hit it off…” She wants my mind to go with hers down the billionaire’s girlfriend path.
“No if, Dom. If we did anything and it didn’t work out, I would be not only unemployed but there would be no job, ever, for me again at Jetstream. It’s not worth the risk.” I can feel her disappointment through the phone and right behind it a dash of stubborn determination, a trait we share. I try to dash it. “I’m not ready for anything anyway. I think there’s still a contrail from the plane Danny flew away on.”