by Karen Gordon
His enthusiastic nod tells me I wasn’t wrong when I felt it yesterday. “Oh, they’ll play nice at the office, but there is no love lost between those two.”
I look around the restaurant to make sure there aren’t any other JetStreamers around who might over hear us. “Please tell me why. I’m in the middle of this.”
Bob also takes a quick look around before starting the story. “Joel divorced Jack’s mom when Jack was…” Bob stops to calculate. “I guess he was about seven or eight. It was an ugly divorce and after it Joel had almost no contact with Jack. His mom, Christina, moved them to LA, but it was always known that Jack, being Joel’s oldest son, would inherit the company.”
“Why? If he didn’t feel the need to even contact him? Why leave him the company?”
“Part of the divorce.”
I nod, but don’t reply. I don’t want him to stop.
“So, basically Jack hates his dad and Joel thinks Jack is a moron. He only graduated college with a team of tutors and a lot of donations and Joel had to bail him out of a few scrapes with the law.”
“Wow.” It was so much to take in, so much to process, and it shed so much light on everything that happened yesterday.
“I guess I don’t need to tell you to be careful.”
“You mean stay out of the middle of them.” I shake my head. “I think I’m already there.”
He squeezes my hand again. “You are, I know. Just…” He hesitates and gets quieter. “Just avoid being alone too much with Joel, and probably with Jack too.”
“Oh?” I shouldn’t be, but I’m surprised. I mean, I’ve known that there were men in the office interested in me before, but this is different. HR probably wouldn’t be on my side if I complained. “Both of them?”
“If Jack is anything like his dad, yeah.” Bob has a long history with Joel so I guess he’s dropping me a huge hint based on experience.
“Last night Jack told me his dad told him to keep his hands off me.” I’m calculating every possible motive in this game of chess. “Do you think it might be because he’s interested?” I shake my head. That makes no sense. “I mean, really? Look at me, look at his wife.”
Bob laughs. “You are a beautiful girl, don’t kid yourself. But it’s really more about power. Joel hates to not get what he wants.”
Our burgers arrive and I sort through all Bob has told me as I pour the ketchup for my fries. Things are ten times more complicated than I had thought.
“The key,” Bob’s so enthusiastic about his solution that he starts talking through a big bite of burger. He holds up a finger while he finishes chewing and swallows. “The key will be for you to be indispensable, irreplaceable. You can hold your spot as long as they can’t function without you.” He nods emphatically. “And you can do it. Do everything you did for me and more. My life is hell without you already.”
I smile at him as I chew my burger. I feel bad, in a way, but I need the compliment right now.
“Kara tells me every day how much she misses you.” We both laugh at that.
We chat about trivial things through the rest of our lunch which is kept short. Bob needs to catch his flight and I need to get back to the office and find Jack so I can be the most vital secretary in the history of JetStream.
✈✈✈
Jack’s in his office when I get back from lunch, but the door is closed. I wait, and wait, and wait for him to finish his meeting or whatever he is doing in there and open his door. I realize that I don’t know how to talk to him on so many levels. I literally don’t know how to contact him. He has yet to officially give me his cell number and we’ve never discussed how he feels about me interrupting him if his door is closed. I’m also at a loss for what to say to him based on my talk with Bob.
I can’t be indispensable if I’m not doing anything. I find the post it that Carolyn gave me with what might be Jack’s cell number on it. I send a text.
Let me know when you want to finish going through the meeting notes.
–Vivienne
I wait for a reply but nothing happens for a half hour. My phone finally buzzes with his reply.
Nice of you to show up today. What time did you get in?
Well, that confirms the number. I label it “SmartAss” in my phone. I’ll have to assign him an appropriate ring tone later. One thing is obvious, if I’m going to communicate with Jack it’s going to have to be on his level. With Bob everything was friendly and polite, but definitely businesslike. With Jack it’s going to be more like talking with Dom’s cousin, the one in high school.
Funny. Let’s get this done!
He replies quickly this time.
It’s almost time to go. Bring the folder, we’ll go to dinner.
Oh hell no, we are not going to try that again. I’ll use my semi-lie technique.
I have dinner plans later. Let’s go over this for a half hour now.
I do need to go by Dom’s dad’s restaurant to pick up the fabric swatch for my bridesmaid’s dress. And when I go there I usually stay and eat so I can talk to Dom for a while. It’s not exactly a lie.
With who? The guy in the Photoshopped pic on ur desk?
Damnit. He caught that. He must have been in my office when I was at lunch. I’m glad he’s not here now to see my face flaming red. I ignore his Photoshop comment and push to try to focus on business.
Doesn’t matter. I’m on my way in with the prep folder.
I toss my phone on my desk but it buzzes once more before I leave.
Suit yourself, but I’m not exactly decent.
I roll my eyes and head for his office anyway. My talk with Bob lit a fire under me to make sure Jack and I work together, with a huge emphasis on work, as in getting some done. Right now, I don’t really give a crap what he’s wearing or not wearing. We are going to talk marketing.
Chapter Seven
If--and that’s a billion dollar if--there wasn’t so much ridding on Jack and I succeeding, it might have been fun to work with him. He could give it as good as he took it and it had been a long time since I’d had a sparring partner. Most men cower from mixing it up with me. Jack felt like he had enough ego, money and power to pull it off.
He flaunted his excesses and tried to push my buttons. Most days started with me texting him.
Me: When will you be in today?
J: Got to send a few girls home first. Could you come give them a ride?
Me: I’m working.
J: All work and no play…
Me: Got me this fabulous job.
And so it would go, us trading insults and jabs but at least some work was getting done. As long as I played the game by his rules, Jack was willing to participate. Each week the marketing meetings got a little better, but they were still hardly effective. Jack wowed everyone at his second one by knowing their names. The bar was set low for him. I was starting to feel a little more confident that, given ten or fifteen years, we might become almost adequate.
After two months, the meetings got a lot less painful. Like my relationship with Jack, the managers had designed their own work arounds so that he felt like he was doing something when in fact he was approving campaigns and going over proposals that were already in the works. JetStream had to keep moving and it couldn’t wait for Jack to catch up.
Not that I’m holding my breath for one, but I never get so much as a thank you from Jack. I do his work and cover for him, and he treats it all as if he’s done it himself. I’m feeling particularly sorry for myself on a Thursday afternoon when I find an envelope with my name hand written on it sitting on my desk. It’s Joel’s handwriting and it makes me nervous. Nothing from Joel could be good.
I open it and unfold the handwritten note and I’m wrong. Oh my god, am I ever wrong.
Vivienne,
I want to personally thank you for the fantastic work you are doing as Jack’s Executive Assistant. The department heads are pleased with Jack’s transition into their department and particularly credit you for making
it happen.
As you are already at the top of your pay grade, I’m gifting you one hundred shares of JetStream stock as my personal thank you for making this transition happen. If you have any questions, Carolyn can answer them for you.
Sincerely,
Joel Rockhurst
I look up the current trading price for the stock. Holy shit, I just got a fifteen thousand dollar bonus. Fifteen. Thousand. Dollars. The amount is astounding, but the fact that I got it, from Joel, is the icing on the cake. I don’t know if the marketing managers lied or if Jack really is doing as well as his dad expected, but it feels damn good to have all my hard work recognized.
✈✈✈
Jack notices that there’s a spring in my step when I bring him his lunch. I drop the bag on his desk and turn to leave.
“Why the good mood? Photoshop guy become real?” He loves to try to get a rise out of me for my Photoshopped pic of Danny. I refuse to take it off my desk despite his persistent harassment.
“No, I got a bonus.”
“A bonus? What do you mean you got a bonus? I’m your boss and I didn’t authorize one.”
Open mouth, insert foot—a huge reminder that daddy-dearest is still in charge here. I try to cover.
“Oh, well. I think it’s like a signing bonus.”
“You mean because you’re still here, putting up with me.” He’s joking, but he’s not. He fiddles with the pen in his hand and hesitates before he asks, “So, do you meet with him? Discuss me?”
He’s trying not to show it, but he’s hurt. He thinks I’ve betrayed him.
“No.” I’m sincere and serious. “One of the reasons I was hired was for my loyalty. I don’t talk about you Jack.”
He studies me to see if I’m lying and I let him. It’s an intimate moment. More raw and real than we’ve ever been. His, “Thank you,” is quiet and I’m surprised he doesn’t choke on it. I don’t think he uses the phrase often.
I simply say, “You’re welcome,” and turn to leave. Before I’m out the door he calls out, “Extra shit-yeah sauce?”
I stop and turn toward him so he can see my eye roll. “Yes, Jack. One Conquistador with extra shit yeah sauce on the side, and a side of potatoes.” He sends me downtown to get him lunch from Zunzi’s at least one a week. I always get his order right. But I reassure him anyway. “I take care of you, Jack. I’ve got you covered.” He still looks in the bag, just to infuriate me and I let it slide. My slip up about my bonus from Joel stung in a way that I hadn’t intended. We may push all of each other’s buttons but it’s mostly good natured.
✈✈✈
And just when I think I’ve unraveled all the mystery surrounding my boss, Dom calls me on her break at work that night to let me in on a secret she’s uncovered. “So, how’s Gunner?”
“Who?” I’m home ironing my sheets. I don’t tell Dom because she loves to give me shit about the fact that I always iron my sheets using very expensive rose and lavender water to scent them.
“Um, your boss, Gunner.” She must have some really juicy gossip because she is toying with me, making me work for it.
“Jack?”
“No, Gunner, you know, Gunner John Rockhurst.” There’s unmistakable pride in her voice for her detective work.
“Jack’s name is Gunner? How do you know this?” And why didn’t I?
“Yep and he’s being sued.” She puts a nice pause in for dramatic effect, “for sexual assault.”
I set my iron aside and sit down. This is huge. How could this not be in the papers? Or would it be soon? “What? Where? By who?”
“Some girl from his university. Claims he raped her at a frat party. Him and a bunch of other guys. Says she was drugged.”
I don’t want to believe that Jack could do that, but I’ve seen his drunk, arrogant-asshole side and he doesn’t have the best judgement. “How did you find this?”
“It just kind of came up…well, I mean, I was showing my aunt his picture then there was stuff about this case on like page four. At first I couldn’t figure out what it had to do with Jack. His name is one of like fifteen listed and like I said, he’s listed as Gunner John. Then this one story mentioned his mom, which tied him to Joel, which tied him to JetStream, which made me sure it was him. I guess his lawyer is trying to bury it by using his given name.”
“He hasn’t said anything to me, but then again, I doubt he will.” I go back to ironing, grateful that I have a lot to do because it’s one of my favorite things to do when I need to think.
“He wasn’t charged with anything, but more than one of the stories hinted at evidence tampering and most of the local papers make the girl out to be some kind of drunk whore.”
“God that sucks.” This would be just another one of those irritating stories about rich kids getting away with crimes except I know this rich kid. My heart aches for the girl because my gut tells me he is guilty. “When’s the trial?”
“Two days before my wedding.”
“Wow, just wow.” I flop back on the couch letting it all sink in.
“Do you think he did it?” Another loyalty test; there might be a lot of these with Jack.
I can be honest and still not technically gossip. “I don’t know. I know him but I don’t. I’ve been trying to keep his personal life out of our work life.” I toss the idea around in my head. “I hate to think that he could do that. For the sake of my job I’m going to have to assume he’s innocent until proven guilty.”
“Good answer. Remind me to hire you as my PR person if I’m ever arrested.”
“Me? Let’s talk about your mad cyber stalking skills here. I’m impressed.” Dom has always been my cyber conscious, teaching me to google guys before I go out on dates with them and how to watch my security online. “We need to find you like a CIA job where you track people down online.” She laughs because she knows her future and she has no desire to change it. She’ll have the same calm family life she grew up in, married to Luis forever, lots of kids, working at her dad’s restaurant until she and Luis take it over.
Sometimes, like right now, I envy her solid, calm planned-out life. I used to have one. Ok, an unrealistic, stupid one that revolved around Danny, but it was my plan and my dream nonetheless. I’ve been living in a whirlwind ever since my dad died and Danny left. Me, the chronic over-planner really has no specific plan for my future. I can’t see myself working the way I do if I want a family. I go in early and work late almost every day and now that’s intensified since I started babysitting Jack.
I smirk at the irony that Jack, the man with no ambition and few skills, has his bright future set. I let myself wonder what it would be like to be married to Jack. I definitely wouldn’t kick him out of our bed and he can be funny, but the thought of doing everything for him, pretty much like I do now. He’s a helpless, spoiled child and probably always will be.
I want a man like Danny or my dad. I man who’s made his own way, who works as hard as I do, who appreciates homemade meals and sitting home watching TV with me. Is that too much to ask?
I look up at the ceiling to talk to my dad. “Is it?”
Chapter Eight
On the surface, all is calm at work. Jack puts in a hard three or four hours most days, including lunch, but it gives me enough time to keep him up to speed on everything going on in the department. The managers send me things that Jack needs to approve, but it’s all rote. It’s budgets they are already using and projects that are already started. Bringing Jack in on it is always an afterthought.
I’m still not sure if Jack’s lack of interest is a huge “fuck you” to his dad or if he genuinely just doesn’t really care to earn his enormous paycheck and work toward being CEO someday.
In addition to doing all his work for him, I also drive all over town to get his lunch, pick up his dry cleaning, put gas in his car, get it repaired and inspected. Although, the last one was kind of fun. I got asked out by every guy at the DMV when I pulled up in the Saleen. He had a housekeeper who started
to take over some of these duties, but she quit after two weeks. I can only imagine what his party-central condo must look like. I wanted her back, but I didn’t blame her.
The problem is that under the surface tensions are running high. He’s never said anything, but I know Joel is aware of Jack’s lack of face time at the office. Carolyn dropped a few hints to me. Jack’s trial is coming up. He still hasn’t brought it up to me, but I’ve walked in on more than one conversation that must have been with his lawyer.
Under my perfectly-pressed work suits, my superhero outfit is starting to crumple and choke me. This job is pushing my limits both physically and emotionally. I’m on edge all the time waiting for Joel to call me in for a meeting or someone to point out the elephant in the room—that Jack is doing the minimum work possible for his job. I come in early and stay late doing his work and covering my tracks so it looks like he did it. At first, I used my weekends to recover. I would sleep as much as possible, go to yoga class and had a weekly massage appointment at a spa in town. But now, I don’t have time for any of that either. Dom’s wedding is next weekend, so I have her bachelorette party this weekend as well as another shower, and next weekend I will be part of the wedding festivities all weekend. I try to push my guilt aside that I haven’t been completely available for her. In a way, we’ve been planning this event together for years, even before she met Luis. It’s Jack who needs to be pushed aside for a while, so I can give Dom the awesome wedding she and Luis deserve.
Jack’s trial starts next week and Dom and I have been watching the Durham papers for news about it. His lawyer is earning whatever exorbitant fee he is charging because, so far, no one has tied Jack to JetStream. I’ve tried to convince myself that he didn’t do anything wrong because he definitely isn’t acting like a guilty man. Then again, Jack could be a guilty man who just lacks any form of a conscience. I wouldn’t put that past him.
✈✈✈
I’m trying to get out of the office early on Friday afternoon so I can possibly get a nap before Dom’s bachelorette party tonight, but for the first time in weeks Jack is hanging around past two p.m. It’s almost like he knows I want to leave. I find a budget form that needs his signature and use that as an excuse to pop into his office. He’s working on something on his computer, and I’m tempted to walk around his desk and see if it’s a video game. Then again, today is not a good day to make him mad.