by Jack Harbon
Lost in his thought, Trish’s gaze brought him back to reality. He couldn’t exactly decipher what she was trying to communicate with her eyes. Finally, she said, “You’ll be fine.”
He nodded and looked back at the movie. He hadn’t even realized it was playing again. Trish’s comment drew a small smile from him. She was right. He’d be fine.
*
“Dude, you’ll be fine,” Chad promised. He stood outside the club with Kit, nonchalantly tapping away on his phone. He seemed far too relaxed considering the two of them hadn’t been to a gay club since their sophomore year in college, and that one hadn’t even been in New York. He’d heard horror stories about the clubs here, and the last thing he wanted to do was look like a fish out of water.
“You better not ditch me, you hear me? I don’t care if Michael Ealy himself walks in and wants to eat your ass like vanilla cake. If you leave me, I’m fucking your shit up, got it?”
“Damn, insecurities,” Chad laughed, stuffing his phone in his pocket. “I’m not gonna leave you all by yourself. You’ve got too much of a baby face for me to leave you with the sharks. Besides, if we stay by the bar, we get more drinks from these older queens.”
“I’m not gonna complain about that,” he smiled.
“You need to get yourself a sugar daddy. One with a nice penthouse and hella money.”
“Gross, those guys are usually perverts. Probably even serial killers.”
“Oh please,” Chad said, rolling his eyes. “All I’m saying is, if a daddy wants me to sit on his face and pay me for it, I’m not turning him down.” Kit could hear two boys behind them make noises of agreement. He cracked a smile and looked back up front at the bouncer.
The two of them stepped closer, waiting with bated breath to see if they would be let in. Thankfully, after a quick look up and down, the bouncer opened the rope and let them inside.
The club was exactly how Kit imagined it. Alcohol-fueled bodies writhed and grinded on the dance floor, businessmen laughed and toasted at the tables in the corner, and the older men perused the room like it was hunting season. The two of them took seats at the bar and ordered drinks, turning to face one another.
“I’m still not over your interview, dude. He really said he hopes one day you’re more prepared for interviews?” Chad asked. He stirred his Cuba libre with the straw. Kit swallowed down his shot of vodka and nodded.
“Is that not a bitch thing to say to someone before you sashay out of the room?”
“He sounds like a complete asshole,” Chad said. “Was he at least hot? Because you can probably get away with being hot, suave, and a douchebag, but you can’t be an ugly bitch.”
“Yet here you are,” Kit smirked.
“Blow me from the back,” Chad retorted.
“To answer your question, yes. He was hot. But that doesn’t excuse his actions.” It didn’t matter to Kit that Roman had beautiful eyes or a smirk that, under the right situation, was probably sexy as hell. He treated people poorly and that turned Kit off. Kit turned to the bartender to order another shot and did a double-take at the man across the room.
“What’s he look like?” Chad asked.
“Turn around. He’s right there.”
Slowly, Chad twisted in his seat to look for him. Kit described his angular face, sharp nose, and perfectly-styled facial hair, and Chad eventually found him seated on the other end of the long bar, lazily chatting with a much younger boy. The kid giggled and playfully shoved his shoulder. Roman stiffened and turned around, clearly disinterested in talking to the boy. The younger man made a nasty face and spun Roman around, said something insulting, then dumped his red drink on Roman’s lap.
Roman jumped up and shoved the boy away.
“Holy shit,” Chad laughed. “So much for suave. Serves his ass right.”
Kit threw back the other shot and slammed the glass on the bar. “Not quite,” he said, hopping up from the bar. Before Chad could stop him, Kit chased after Roman, following him into the bathroom. He could hear him cursing under his breath, viciously scrubbing at the red stain on his tan slacks.
“Motherfucker,” he growled.
“Karma’s a bitch, ain’t she?” Kit asked, leaning against the wall. Roman spun around and glared at him.
“Did you know him?”
“What?” he asked.
“Did you know that guy? Ask him to pour that on me as some kind of petty revenge for your shitty interview?” Roman moved to the sinks to wet a paper towel.
“You really think I thought about you enough to stalk you to a club and enlist some twink to dump his Cosmo on you? You must think you’re the center of the universe and not just an asshole worthy of dumping drinks on.”
“So, what, you just came here to gloat?”
“Exactly. You got exactly what you deserved. You don’t get to treat people like objects that you toss away when you’re done with them.”
“I have a few hundred dollars in my wallet. If I give them to you, will you disappear?”
“I hope your pants are ruined and you’re embarrassed when you leave,” Kit said, turning and heading for the door.
“Wait!” Kit stopped and turned around. “I’m sorry I was a dick. I need your help, though.”
“I already helped you. Your office looked like shit.”
“I need your help again,” Roman said through gritted teeth. “I can give you five hundred dollars if you just go down the block and pick me up some pants. The store doesn’t close until ten, so you’ve got about twenty-five minutes.”
Kit stared at him skeptically. There was no way in hell his pride was so high that he couldn’t walk out to his car with a stain on his pants. But Roman didn’t smile or laugh. His brows remained knitted together, hopeful that he would take the offer.
“More.”
“Huh?”
“Give me some more money,” Kit said.
“Five hundred is plenty,” Roman retorted.
“Then you can save it and walk out there looking like an idiot.” Kit started for the door again before Roman called out to stop. He held his smirk back and turned around. “Like I said. More.”
“One thousand. Just get me some fucking pants already.” Roman yanked a Benjamin from his wallet and handed it to Kit. “Thirty for the waist, thirty-six for the leg. Hurry, please.”
Kit rolled his eyes and took the money. He found Chad and pulled him up from the chair, tugging him out the back door.
“Whoa, what’s going on?” he asked, regaining his balance as they walked.
“He’s paying me one grand to buy him some new pants.”
“Jesus, I thought you just said you didn’t want a sugar daddy.”
Kit rolled his eyes and quickened his pace. As obnoxious and entitled as Roman seemed, Kit wasn’t above doing him a favor as long as it brought in money. He’d need some extra cash, especially if these other jobs never called him back for an interview.
They found the store and he glanced down at his phone. They’d made it with just over fifteen minutes left. The two of them split up and went looking for a proper pair of pants for Roman. Chad jokingly held up a pair of corduroy pants that made Kit’s skin crawl. Kit was just about to give up when Chad called him over.
“These look like the ones he was wearing, right?” Chad asked. Kit looked them over and smiled.
“Yep.”
They brought the slacks to the cashier who’d been glaring at them since they walked in. He could imagine how irritated the woman was. She’d just started closing up when they arrived. She hastily bagged their purchase and handed him his change.
“Have a good night,” she said with a forced smile.
Chad and Kit returned to the club with the bag and Kit hurried to the bathroom to make his delivery. He didn’t even say a word before he tore the bag from Kit’s hands and unbuttoned his slacks. Kit diverted his eyes and let Roman change. He looked back up when he heard the sound of a zipper. Roman stared at himself in the mirror and sm
iled. He was just about to leave when Kit held up a hand to stop him from passing.
“I think you’re forgetting something,” he said.
“What?” Roman looked at him like he’d lost his mind. “Oh. The money.”
“Yeah. The money. Hand it over.”
“I changed my mind,” Roman said, adjusting the Rolex on his wrist.
“What do you mean you changed your mind?”
“I’m not giving you a grand for just picking me up a pair of pants. That’s hardly worth it.”
Kit took a deep breath to keep himself from swinging on Roman. When he opened his eyes and exhaled, Roman was looking at him blankly. “If you don’t give me my money, I’m going to go out there, order another Cosmo, and ruin your pants all over again. Run me my money, Roman.”
“No.” Roman stepped around him and opened the bathroom door. Kit’s backwards counting was interrupted when Roman said, “I’m not giving you any money until you do some real work. Seven o’clock on Monday. Don’t be late.”
Kit made a face and turned around to say something when he realized Roman was gone. A moment later, Chad pushed through the door.
“So, did you get your money?” he asked, looking for the wad of cash.
Kit shook his head. “No, but… I think I just got the job?”
4
HGTV Bitches
“Like, I wouldn’t have a problem with all the protests and stuff if they weren’t out there blocking the streets and stuff, y’know?”
“Exactly. We get it, you guys matter too, but it’s such an inconvenience for me. Sit-down strikes aren’t a thing anymore.”
“Totally.”
Mornings like these reminded Kit that he should never, ever leave the house without a pair of headphones. Most of the time he could block out asinine conversations with the sounds of Rihanna and Drake, but that only worked when he brought the earbuds with him. Without those, he was forced to listen to people chatter about things they knew nothing about.
And that wasn’t even the worst of it. The stop before, he’d had to put up with a couple violently making out across the aisle from him. Anyone with that much sexual energy at 6:30 in the morning couldn’t be trusted.
When he reached his destination, Kit practically leapt from his seat. As quickly as possible, he pushed through the crowd and hurried up the steps, unable to inhale anymore white privilege from the two women sitting nearby. The walk from the subway to Yellow Fall was twenty minutes if he strolled and ten if he walked briskly. In order to make a good first impression, Kit hurried through the streets, always on his toes. His dress shoes didn’t make his movements any easier, but he managed to get to the door with fifteen minutes to spare regardless.
The receptionist’s eyes lit up happily and she gave him a wave. It was a small gesture, but Kit grinned proudly and marched up to the elevator. As he climbed inside, he opened his notepad app on his phone and added a new task: learn the front desk lady’s name.
The doors opened on the sixth floor and it was a completely different scene than the last time he’d been in the building. Instead of the thirty or so people he’d been greeted by before, there were only seven people in the room. Some still looked a bit sleepy, as if they’d just woken up from their desk-nap.
One woman looked over her shoulder as he stepped out of the elevator and smiled. Unlike the others, she seemed alert and focused. She wore an impressively tall pair of black heels, a royal blue high-waisted pencil skirt, and a yellow blouse opened just far enough to reveal her white camisole underneath. The bright colors popped against her deep brown skin.
“Hello there. Did you bring the coffee?” she asked, tilting her head. Kit blinked, unsure if she was talking to him or someone behind him.
“What coffee?”
“The coffee every assistant brings,” she explained, a hint of condescension in her voice. “It’s something Roman always has his assistants pick up. Off to a rough start, hm?”
Kit wasn’t sure whether this was real life or not. He’d been there literally one minute and there was already somebody coming for his work ethic.
“I’m sorry, did you hire me?” he asked, tilting his head the same way she did. “If my memory’s correct, Roman hired me, and Roman forgot to tell me to pick up coffee today. If you have a problem with that, you can go talk to our boss about it.”
The smile on the woman’s face turned vicious, but before she could say anything else, Roman’s office door opened and he stepped out.
The sleeves of his white button up were rolled past his elbows and his hands were stuffed in the pockets of his tailored slacks. They looked suspiciously like the ones Kit had picked up that weekend. Roman looked fresh off the set of Suits, and Kit’s breath caught in his lungs when as he approached.
“That’s enough,” Roman said. The woman looked between the two of them and softened her smile.
“I apologize, Roman.” She turned to Kit. “You too. I get mean when I don’t have my coffee in the morning.”
“Hm,” Kit said simply, looking at Roman instead of the woman. She backed out of the conversation and returned to the table where the others sat. After waiting a beat, Roman said,
“Yolanda Carmichael, Yellow Fall’s best illustrator. Gorgeous, deadly, and one of the reasons the company hasn’t fallen flat on its ass yet. Also known to get a little bitchy in the mornings.” Roman smirked and looked over his shoulder at her. She was now speaking to the table in an authoritative manner.
Kit shrugged half-heartedly. On one hand, he wasn’t here for being talked down to. On the other, he loved seeing a Black woman in charge of herself and her work. After all, he was just an assistant. He could be gone the next week. What did she owe him?
“Tell her to bring her own damn coffee, then,” Kit muttered under his breath. Roman chuckled and place a hand on Kit’s back, turning him around. The gesture would’ve felt patronizing if it weren’t for the fact that Kit secretly liked it.
On the door beside the elevator hung a small whiteboard with eight names. Beside each of those names were various types of coffee.
“Most of the time, these orders never change, but some change their orders when seasonal drinks come out, so you’d do well to look over the chart every now and then. Forgetting the drinks will lead to seven very angry employees glaring at you. And if you think Yolanda was bad, wait until you forget to bring mine.”
Kit took a step closer to the board and read over everything. Most people liked their coffee black, but three of the employees had very specific combinations. He took a quick picture so that he wouldn’t forget. When he slipped his phone back into his pocket, he noticed Roman staring at him.
“What?” Kit asked.
“Those are the orders for today.”
Kit was silent for a second before he realized what he was saying. “Oh. Right, I’ll get right on that.”
*
The little coffee shop around the corner from Yellow Fall was packed with various forms of hipsters. Some wore beanies and tapped on their iPhones while others reeked of last night’s blunt and Febreze air freshener. He slipped around a girl with bangs and a sundress and pulled his phone out to list off his order. The cashier’s eyes widened for a moment before relaying the order back to one of the employees.
“Sorry about this. My boss and the rest of his team are picky,” Kit explained.
“You’re from Yellow Fall, aren’t you?” the woman asked. Kit glanced at her nametag. Michelle.
“I am, actually,” he said cautiously. “How’d you know that?”
“My manager was telling me about these customers who come in and order a ton of drinks. They all end up working at Yellow Fall. I just figured…”
“Ah, yeah, seems like coffee runs are part of the job here. It’s my first day, so I’m a little out of my element.”
“It’s my first day too!” Michelle exclaimed. When she laughed, her brown ponytail swished from side to side and her dimples became more pronounced.
Michelle leaned over the counter and lowered her voice. “Let’s just say,” she began, “I still don’t know what these different sizes mean. I barely know how to make plain coffee, let alone all these fancy drinks. I just really need the job.”
“Girl, you don’t have tell me,” Kit chuckled.
Michelle told him she’d call his name when his order was ready and he took a seat, scrolling through his phone to avoid looking at other people. He thought about calling Bria to let her know that his first day was going alright and his first task was pretty easy, but she was more than likely still asleep. Bria and Trish had been up all night working on costumes for the musical.
Instead of waking her, Kit opened his favorite word game app and half-heartedly tried solving the puzzle. The distraction worked, because soon enough Michelle called him up. He stood from the scratchy seat and pulled a few bills from his wallet to pay.
“Good luck on your first day!” Michelle called after him.
“Thanks! You too!”
Kit used his back to push the door open, then hurried down the street. He didn’t want to move so fast that he might spill the drinks, but being outside in this weather was too much for him. The morning was freezing and all he craved was the warm embrace of indoor heating systems. He stepped out of the way of a woman screaming into her phone then gunned it for the door before it could close behind the last person who’d entered. Kit narrowly made it inside but managed to do so without spilling.
When he returned to the sixth floor, he could practically hear the relieved sigh of his coworkers. Were they his coworkers? He’d have to ask Roman later.
Kit placed the coffee down in the center of the table and began disbursing the cups. Yolanda’s smile seemed genuine for a moment when he handed over her drink. Once the others had all received theirs, Kit took a seat and relaxed. He glanced at the woman in front of him as he poured sugar into his cup.
