by Whitney G.
“Well, hopefully, that’ll last longer than your next assistant.” He tossed me a bright blue folder.
“What’s this?”
“This is your newest executive assistant’s resume and intent letter,” he said. “I took the liberty of picking out the next one, and I can guarantee that she’ll last longer than a few months.”
I flipped through the paperwork and immediately knew she wouldn’t last longer than a week. She was just like every assistant he’d recommended to me before. Ivy-league educated, years of experience in hotel management, utterly destined to fail. Even her personal statement of why she wanted to work for me rang a familiar bell of imminent failure.
I truly believe that I can help make Preston Parker be the best CEO he can be by becoming the best executive assistant he’s ever hired.
I’d never mentioned it to George, but I found it quite ironic that I rose through the ranks of the hotel industry before getting my business degrees; that the first hotels I took over were achieved out of my hunger and desperation for success, not anything else.
Why haven’t we ever taken a chance on someone like that?
“As you can see, she graduated from Yale at the top of her class.” George smiled as he spoke, saying the same words he’d said hundreds of times before. “Not only has she worked in the hotel industry for over ten years, she’s spent significant time with the marketing and branding departments at the Hilton, Marriott, and Starwood brands. I think you should pick her brain for inside tips on the competition.”
“I’ve been number one for ten years. I don’t have any competition.”
“You will if you don’t start getting any backup help.” He groaned. “At some point, you have to accept that you need one hell of an EA to help you keep this company running. Someone who can not only help you here, but someone who can go in your place to meetings whenever you finally decide to take a break, or God forbid, take a vacation like a normal person.”
“Fine.” I shut the folder and handed it to him. “Give me a few weeks to pick out my next one, and if she doesn’t work out, I’ll go with your choice.”
“Fair enough,” he said. “I need to sit in on all the interviews, though.”
“Why? Don’t you trust me to pick her?”
“Now that I know you have women texting your phone about their pussies, and you’re hell bent on your next assistant being a ‘she’? Absolutely not.”
TWO
Preston
A few weeks later
PLEASE DON’T BE ANOTHER disappointment ...
“Can you tell me a little bit about your previous experience at Toys ‘R’ Us, Miss Jackson?” I asked the redhead sitting across from me. “Your resume says you used to work in their senior sales department.”
“Well, yes.” She smiled. “I um, did a lot of accounting and unit shipping.”
I tapped my fingers against the desk. So far, she seemed impressive, but something about her was off. She blushed every time her eyes met mine—typical, but any time we asked her a question, she looked down at her palm as if she’d written a cheat sheet.
Who the hell needs a cheat sheet for an interview?
“I’m sorry that the company was ultimately forced to close its doors in the end,” George said. “What do you think you can bring from your experience in the toy world to the hotel world?”
“A lot. I have tons of experience with making sure that customers are satisfied, ensuring monthly sales goals are met, and providing top quality service.”
George nodded, looking somewhat pleased. “Did you ever work on any projects with my good friend Tim Lause?”
“Who?”
“Tim Lause,” he repeated. “The chief of senior sales. If you worked in senior sales, you would’ve worked on at least a few projects with him. Correct?”
“Oh, yeah. Right. Totally. Lots of projects with Mr. Lause.”
“Can you tell us what kind?” I asked. “As in, with some actual details?”
“Oh, um ...” Her cheeks turned red, and she looked down at her palm again. “I ... My ...”
“We’re very impressed that you know all your vowel sounds, Miss Jackson,” I said. “I’m more interested in the details of your previous projects.”
She didn’t speak.
“Do I need to repeat my question?” I asked. “Do you not understand what previous projects mean?”
“Okay, look.” Her eyes went wide as she sat up. “I only put Toys ‘R’ Us down because they went bankrupt and I figured there’d be no way for you to call anyone and ask for a reference. I usually use other out of business companies for my most current job, and I guess I should’ve just stuck with those for this time. Damnit.”
“So, you’ve never worked at Toys ‘R’ Us?” George asked.
“I used to shop there all the time.”
“Do you really have a law degree from Yale?”
“No, but I went to one of their summer programs when I was a senior in high school.” She looked between us. “I had a perfect GPA. And before you ask, I didn’t lie about being good at customer service. Ask my manager at Starbucks. No one makes a pumpkin spice latte quite like me.”
“Okay.” I shut her folder. “You can go now.”
“Can I expect a call for a second interview?”
We gave her a blank stare.
“So, is that like a no?”
“It’s like a hell no.” I pointed to the door. “Out. Now.”
She huffed and grabbed her bag, slamming my door on the way out.
“If you even think about giving her a second interview ...” George said.
“I’m thinking about giving her a bill for wasting my time.”
As I was scratching her name off the list, a financial executive, Linda, stepped into my office.
“Sorry to bother you without an appointment, Mr. Parker,” she said. “But I just finished recalculating the profit and loss reports from The Grand Rose Hotel.”
“And?”
“It looks like those recent losses can’t be traced to anything particular, and they’re pretty minor. It’s only fifty-five hundred dollars a month.” She walked over and handed me a sheet with her notes.
I clenched my jaw. No loss was “pretty minor” in my company, and I always needed to know where every dime was going.
“Is it safe to assume that someone is stealing from me?” I asked.
“Quite the contrary, sir. The Grand Rose’s managers are certain that the losses have to be due to a guest. Actually, they say they’re due to a non-guest.”
George and I exchanged glances, and I knew without a doubt that someone on my staff was lying and stealing from me. I’d thought that by personally ruining the careers of the last few people who dared to steal, that I would never have to worry about this again, but someone was about to get a harsh reminder about how ruthless I could be.
“Tell them I’ll be there next week so they can kindly explain how a non-guest can steal thousands of dollars from me without ever checking in,” I said, my blood boiling. “Tell them I want everything printed out, and if every single penny isn’t accounted for, I’ll fire them all and make sure they never work in this city again. I’ll fire you as well if I find out you’re covering for them. Is there anything else you need to tell me?”
“No.” She swallowed and headed to the door. “That was it, sir.”
I ran the numbers through my head and tapped my fingers against the desk.
Fifty-five hundred a month at one property times twelve months of the year is a little over sixty thousand. If they manage to repeat this at four other properties, they’ll walk away with over a quarter million. Who the hell would even attempt to do this shit without thinking they’ll get caught?
“I have an idea, Preston.” George interrupted my thoughts. “Well, outside of the fact that you just threatened to fire her, why haven’t you ever asked Linda to be your executive assistant?”
“I have, and she turned it down. She said
I already drive her to drink, and her husband doesn’t want her working too closely with me.”
“Well, what about Cynthia?”
“Cynthia is only twenty years old.” She also wants to fuck me.
“Well, maybe she could grow into the position. You were only twenty years old when you bought your first hotel, and look at how you turned that dump of a property around. Look at how much you’ve accomplished in the nineteen years since. Maybe Cynthia is the next Preston Parker in the making.”
“I can guarantee that she’s not.”
“You’re not willing to give her a chance?”
“I don’t even want to think about giving her a chance.”
“Well, I think it’s a pretty good idea.”
“Let me show you why it’s not.” I dialed her extension. “Cynthia, can you come into my office for a minute, please?”
“Gladly, Mr. Parker.”
Within seconds, she stepped into my office. Her cheeks were flushed pink, and her skirt was definitely inches higher than it was earlier.
“Oh.” She stopped dead in her tracks when she saw George. “I thought you were calling me in here so we could be alone.” She cleared her throat. “How may I help you this afternoon, Mr. Parker?”
“As you know, I’m currently searching for a new executive assistant. I was wondering if you’d be interested in being my interim EA if the next interviews don’t work out.”
“Oh, of course.” She bit her bottom lip, blushing even more. “If I became your EA, does that mean I’ll be your go-to person for like everything? Like, we’ll probably spend a lot more time together?”
“Yes.”
“Like private meetings and overnight business trips? Alone?”
“Yes.”
“Will we share a hotel room whenever we’re away?”
“Not at all. Typically, my executive assistant gets a separate room for travel.”
“Well, I wouldn’t dare trouble you with a separate room. I would love to save you the money, and nothing about our relationship would have to be typical.” She moved closer, her eyes widening with each step. “At least, not at first. I would ease you into things, let you take things slow, but I have to be honest and admit that I like everything the rough and hard way. If we really got along well, after a few months of being your EA, we should discuss—”
“Okay, enough.” George didn’t let her finish. “Thank you for your time, Cynthia. We’ll let you know if the last interviews don’t pan out.”
“I really hope they don’t.” She licked her lips like a starving animal, then she smiled at me before leaving the room.
When she shut the door, George looked at me. “She’s making direct sexual advances, and you haven’t fired her yet? Why?”
“Because she does excellent work. She’s also one of the few people on my team who doesn’t break into tears whenever I ask for multiple things at once.”
“Noted.” He opened his laptop and set it on the edge of my desk. “Before we get down to today’s business, I’ve been meaning to ask you something. Are you going home to see your family this holiday season? I know you usually don’t, but I’m working on the executive calendar and would like to know.”
“I don’t have a family,” I said, my voice terse. “We’ve discussed this before.”
No matter how close I was with George, discussions about my family (or lack thereof) were off-limits. I never talked about them with anyone and I didn’t see that changing anytime soon.
“I know how you feel about this topic, I just—” He dropped the subject when he noticed the look on my face. “Okay then, onto my latest research.” He showed me his latest findings and stuck to the things I preferred to discuss, and after four hours of walking through the legal ramifications of my latest deal, he left my office.
Still restless and needing to fill my time with work, I asked Linda to email me the final Grand Rose numbers so I could see them for myself. The moment I finished recalculating the deficit, I knew something wasn’t adding up.
The losses all took place on the same three days of the week, and for whatever reason, they all took place in the morning. I picked up the schedule for the cash pick-ups and saw that they all corresponded to those dates.
Seething, I asked Human Resources to prepare pink slips for the eight managers and told George to have the legal team prepare for a lawsuit.
I picked up my phone and called the hotel directly. “This is Preston Parker, your owner. I’ll be there to fire whoever’s been stealing from me tomorrow.”
THREE
Tara
I WAS OFFICIALLY CONVINCED that there was nothing worse than being young, broke, and jobless in New York City.
Nothing.
With exactly fifteen dollars and forty-eight cents in my bank account, every day was a struggle to make it to the next, and I knew that if I didn’t get a job soon, I would be homeless.
My business degrees might as well have been printed on toilet paper for the shit they’d brought me thus far. I was just like every other girl who moved here after law school with high hopes and dreams, realizing that my dream apartment in Manhattan was going to have to be a shared studio in Brooklyn, and that my dream job of working at a Fortune 500 Company was going to have to be freelancing ghostwritten stories like Knocked Up by My Baby Father’s Cousin—The Dom for a couple of hundred bucks.
Even though I managed to snag four to five interviews a week, I hardly ever received callbacks. Only cold, emailed rejections.
Over the past six months, I’d applied for over three hundred jobs, and every night, between tears and a half-eaten bowl of Ramen noodles, I googled, “Is it possible to sue your university if you don’t land a job after graduation?”
I was almost tempted to go back home to Pittsburgh, but my heart wouldn’t let me. I’d worked too hard to give up now, and I knew someone would hire me eventually.
“Quitters never win, and winners never quit, Tara. You’re definitely going to get this job today.” I muttered to myself as I pulled my hair into a side ponytail. I looked myself over in the mirror one last time, making sure the navy-blue dress was wrinkle-free, and then I grabbed my bag and opened the window to the fire escape.
When I was outside, I pulled a handful of condom packages from my bag and lined them on the bottom of the sill, gently wedging them between the glass so I could re-open the window later. My roommate and I were seven days late with our rent, and we needed access to our things just in case our landlord decided to kick us out.
“Are you in there, Tara?” A gruff voice knocked on our door as I climbed down the fire escape. “Is that you snoring, Ava? Where is my goddamn money?”
I didn’t answer. I kept climbing down the rails, running toward the subway station the second my feet hit the pavement. I made it down the station’s steps and jumped the turnstile, making it just in time to catch the C train to Manhattan.
Grabbing onto a handrail, I shut my eyes as the train lurched forward. I took a deep breath and went over the lines I’d been rehearsing for the past couple hours.
I want to work at Russ Stock Exchange because I believe that I’ll be a great asset to your company. I’ve done my research, created a presentation on how I believe we can compete with the other firms, and if you give me a chance, I can promise you won’t regret it. Please just give me a chance ...
“You are now arriving in Manhattan,” the train’s system said, making me return to reality.
When the doors opened, I rushed off and headed up to the crowded streets, heading straight for my next ride. The Grayline Tour Bus.
Slipping a pair of shades over my eyes, I pulled an old ticket from my pocket and showed it to the driver.
“Welcome aboard, Miss,” he said. “Enjoy your tour.”
“Thank you.”
I took a seat near the back and nervously tapped my foot, hoping no one would walk by and double-check the timestamp on my ticket. Several tourists stepped aboard, filling the seats arou
nd me, and I let out a breath.
“Welcome to the Big Apple, everyone!” The tour guide stood in the middle of the aisle as the bus moved onto the street. “Today’s half-day tour will take us through Times Square, Broadway, and to the Hudson River. We’ll stop at quite a few landmarks along the way, but before I can begin to entertain you with terrible jokes and inform you of our city’s great history, I need to scan each of your fare tickets. Go ahead and pull those out for me.”
Shit.
I turned around in my seat, hoping he would walk past me. Then I looked up at the greying skies, wondering if the universe would finally throw me a break and magically make a real ticket appear in my hand. That, or just let the bus go for five more blocks so I could be closer to my job interview.
“Ma’am?” The tour guide stepped in front of me, killing all my hopes. “Ma’am, do you have a ticket for this tour?”
I nodded.
“Well, can I see it so I can scan it?”
“Oh, I lost it at the last stop. Sorry.”
“We haven’t made any stops yet.”
“Are you sure?”
“Let me see your ticket.” He narrowed his eyes at me. “Now.”
“Okay, look. I don’t have one, but—”
“Stop the bus!” he yelled. “We’ve got a goddamn bum onboard!”
“What? I’m not a bum.” My cheeks flushed red. “I just can’t afford a cab right now, so I’m using your bus. When I get a job, I’m going to pay you back for all the rides I’ve stolen, I promise.”
“You’ve stolen more than one ride from us?”
“It’s about to rain,” I said, pleading. “Can you please just let me ride to the first stop? I have a really important interview, and I don’t want to look bad.”
“Not my problem.” He pointed to the door. “Just how many rides have you taken without paying?”
The bus came to a jerky stop, and I stood up and pushed my way past him before answering that question.
Stepping onto the sidewalk, I looked over my shoulder as the guide directed all of the tourists to look down at me.