by Katy Kaylee
Well, it wasn’t quite running, but the tour was more intense than I had ever imagined it could be. There were ten floors in the building and he led me through all of them. By the time we ended back up by his office, my mind was spinning.
But boy did GSME have a lot of goodies.
There were free snacks on all the floors. Literally. Free snacks. As in I could just walk up, grab whatever I wanted, then go back to my desk. There was also a huge cafeteria with a buffet and salad bar. And apparently free lunch on Fridays. And there was a work out room towards the bottom floor and even a nap room for women and for men. All they needed was a ball pit and a slide and they would be too good to be true.
And yet it was true. I couldn’t believe it. I had a real job and it was practically in paradise! I even had benefits after my first month. I would have had them immediately, but apparently, they took time to get into the system and get set up.
We went back into an office that I recognized as Chris’ and soon he was pulling a picture of me off a small printer, pulling the back away to reveal it was a sticker, that he slapped onto my badge before putting the badge itself into some other sort of small machine.
“The heat will melt the enzymes in the glue to your badge, fusing it.”
“Huh,” I said, more than a bit fascinated. “That’s cool.”
“The opposite of cool, actually. Hot.” he said, waggling his eyebrow at his pun. Oh God, he definitely was a dad.
“Let me guess, you have two kids, one of which is under three, the other is just entering school?”
“Uncanny!” he exclaimed with a laugh. “My girl is five and my little boy is just turning two. He’s a real terror, actually. How did you know?”
I kept my face flat as I answered. “Well, the pun for one. Secondly your tie isn’t tacky or kitschy, which means your children are either too young to give you Christmas presents or old enough to have enough knowledge about work-place appropriate ties.
“You have chipped nails around the cuticles of one hand, but not the other, which I would guess meant you were invited to a tea party with someone who didn’t have enough attention span to get to both hands and you’ve got a cartoon band aid on your wrist.”
Chris raised his eyebrows, grin growing even wider. “Wow, that’s also great attention to detail. I think you’ll fit in great around here.”
“Aw, thank you,” I said, mirroring his smile. “But also, I can see the reflection of your family photos in your glasses.”
That caused him to laugh alright and he tilted his head back. “Oh, you’re fantastic. I can already tell. I can tell this time, you’re gonna be one of the ones that make it.”
“This time?” I asked curiously, but he was already taking my still-warm badge out of machine and handed it to me.
“Alright, now that that’s taken care of, how about we introduce you to the man you’re assigned to?”
A man? Oh well. I knew it was very much an option, about sixty-forty considering the gender split of the company that I had researched online, but I had been kind of hoping I’d been put with a woman.
“This way,” he said, standing up and walking right back out of his office. I had been hoping that we could stay there for a bit, my feet were really aching from my new flats, but I pasted on a professional grin and followed along behind him once more.
“I think you’re going to be real excited about him; a lot of people would kill for this kind of opportunity.”
Huh, it felt like he was selling me. Why was he trying to sell me? I was already there.
I kept my questions to myself, however, and then we were in the elevator and going up several floors.
We went higher, and higher, and then a bit higher before the doors opened into what looked like some sort of beautifully kept lobby. There were two long desks on either side of the room where two smartly dressed women sat -who I guessed were secretaries. There was glossy, alabaster floor underneath leading to glass door and walls that were only partially obscured with what I recognized as those fancy, automatic covers.
It all seemed so important that I was at a loss for who I could possibly be an assistant to. I was far too new and green to be put with an executive, and yet executive was what was written all over the place.
“Hey there, Stacy. Are we clear to enter?”
The red-headed secretary looked up from whatever she was typing on her computer and gave a sharp nod before returning her attention back to her task. That was apparently all the answer that my guide needed, because then he was striding towards the door with me in tow.
The next thing I knew I was stepping into something that could only be described as the epitome of a head honcho’s office space. There was furniture that probably cost a year of my rent, a bar that was far too stocked to ever get anything done, and a massive, dominating desk in the center of the room.
And behind that desk, a look of casual disinterest on his face, sat the most handsome man that I had ever seen.
“Beverly Viello, this is Mr. Fitzgerald, the creator and CEO of Golden Star Media Empire.”
My eyes went wide as I stared at the man. I knew exactly who he was. I had seen his pictures plenty of times in the many articles and tell alls that I had read about him and how he terrorized all of his assistants into quitting, mostly in under two days.
What the hell had I gotten myself into?
Fitz
I looked over the young woman standing in front of me, her clothes clean but cheap and her posture professional, but uncertain.
She was tall for a woman, with long black hair that was pulled up into a sensible bun. Her eyes were wide, and her full lips were parted slightly, making me wonder if my reputation proceeded me.
Did not matter if it did. This woman was young, and I was sure that she would be just as lackluster as all of the other assistants that I had driven off.
It wasn’t that I meant to make their lives miserable, or that I had some vendetta against them, it was just that none of them seemed to be able to tell their heads from their ass, and that was a pretty big part of the job.
Some said my standards were too high, or that I expected too much from people to soon, but that wasn’t the case at all. If someone made a mistake, they just made a mistake. People were human and as long as they didn’t keep on repeating that mistake, I didn’t mind an error here or there.
But no, all of the assistants had been content with doing the bare minimum, with just trying to skate by on what they thought they should have to do and that was it. They crumbled under pressure easily and couldn’t keep up with me.
My eyes slid over the woman one more time before I moved onto more pressing things. She was certainly curvier than I was used to seeing in our media-fueled business. I’d become so used to waifs and women who worked themselves down to as little fat as possible that there was almost something novel in how the woman before me was so soft and feminine.
It was when my gaze reached her face that I noticed that her shocked expression was gone and instead replaced with one of determination and confidence. Normally people held onto that scared, intimidated look a bit longer. Or I could see the ideas for gain spinning behind their eyes.
But not this girl.
My eyes flicked over her sensible shoes and I smiled. It seemed that this girl had probably done her research before she’d arrived. That was promising. But not promising enough to impress me or make me think that this time would go that much differently than the last.
Even if her conservative turtleneck and business appropriate pencil skirt only served to emphasize her figure that much more. I’d seen plenty of stacked women throughout my life, and even if the young woman in front of me was clearly top tier, I wouldn’t let that sway me.
I knew in other offices that maybe a new boss would introduce themselves, let their employee get to know them, and tell them what was expected of them. That was all just a waste of time to me.
“Have you ever been an assistant before?” I asked instead, affixing
her with one of my stares. I liked to pride myself on being able to see through quite a lot of bullshit without even blinking; would she try to slip something past me like so many others?
“No.”
Huh.
No. No explanation beyond that, no assurances that she would still be good for the job. Just a factoid answer. I liked that.
I looked to her face once more to see her chin tilted ever so slightly in defiance. As if she was daring me. Well, I could certainly take a dare.
I stood to my full height, the light behind me casting my shadow across the girl. To her credit, she only blinked once before she schooled her expression into that same inscrutable calm and determination.
Huh. Maybe this would be more interesting than I thought.
“If you have no experience, why do you think I could possibly use you.”
“Mr. Fitzger-” my underling started but this new woman cut him off, her eyes flashing in a way I quite enjoyed.
“It doesn’t matter what I think.”
“Doesn’t it?” I replied, surprised by her answer.
But she just shook her head. “As I said, I have no experience. What I think about the issue is moot. But you help a tight ship here, don’t you, Mr. Fitzgerald, and I doubt you would let on anyone as a permanent employee unless you were fully confident in their skills.”
“Of course,” I answered smoothly, curious where she was going. “But you’re not a permanent employee. Not yet, at least.”
She nodded. “But whoever in HR approved my application was a permanent employee. And so did the person I spoke to on the phone for my initial interview. Jenny, I believe? Then there’s Mr. Daniels here, who handled my final interview and my welcoming tour that we just completed.” She drew a quiet breath and when her gaze found mine, I saw nothing but steel there. “So, if three of your trusted employees think I would be useful to you, I’m liable to believe what they think over my own opinion.”
I leaned forward ever so slightly, interested by this strange woman and her responses. “And what is your own opinion?”
I expected her to falter there. To lie and come up with some sort of flattery that she obviously didn’t feel. Or worse, try to couch her negative thoughts in some sort of positive buzzword salad that would make me retch. All of those were wastes of time, and time was already so damn precious.
“I’m not paid to have an opinion sir, just to assist you.”
Huh. It seemed that she wasn’t going to budge on that, but I didn’t mind. I liked this challenging woman with rebellion in her stare and fight to her stance. It was almost like having a wild animal in front of me that was presenting at civility when really it wanted nothing more than to tear me down and challenge my position on top.
“Well then, Ms.… Viello, was it?” She nodded solemnly. “I’ll need three coffees from the café down the street, all large and one with two shots of expresso. My dry cleaning needs to be picked up -one of my secretaries can give you the address and the ticket. Once you have finished that, speak to one of them and they will equip your phone and work computer with everything you need to access and organize my scheduling. You are dismissed.”
She stood there, eyes flicking wide for a moment and in that breath, I thought I might have had her. But then she just gave a curt nod before turning to my underling.
“Thank you for your time, Mr. Daniels. I’ll see you around the office, I’m sure.”
“I certainly do hope so,” the man said nervously, and I could see that he was actively trying to avoid catching my eye before scurrying out. He had nothing to fear from me, of course, the man did good work. But I supposed it was often intimidating for a mid-level manager to be so close to the man who controlled his entire livelihood.
But while Daniels scuttled, the new assistant walked at a standard pace, chin level with the floor and posture efficient as she exited. I watched her go, trying to see the moment she crumbled, but she held herself firm even as she talked to one of my secretaries, leaning slightly over their desk.
In that position it was impossible for my eyes not to flick to her round, thick bottom in that skirt of hers and I felt a strange sort of thrill that I hadn’t in a long time. Shaking my head, I returned back to my desk and pulled up my emails. I had a lot to do and couldn’t afford to waste time on someone I was sure wouldn’t even make it out of the probationary new employee period.
Good help was so hard to find.
Beverly
Grab coffee.
Run back to work.
Grab dry cleaning.
Run back to work.
Take diction.
Take minutes at a meeting.
Grab expensive sushi.
Run back to work.
Drop off dry cleaning.
Run back to work.
I found my days sinking into a frantic yet predictable rhythm that I sank my teeth into with everything I had.
Mr. Fitzgerald didn’t go easy on me because it was my first week, but I never expected him to. In fact, I liked to think that I had prepared myself quite well from all the stories I read online.
First of all, while I always wore sensible shoes, I did keep a pair of business heels in my small desk for meeting and other events where I might need to keep up appearances. I also made sure to have moleskin and bandages on hand for any blisters, abrasions or what have you that wanted to pop up. Not to mention clean socks. I remembered reading one story about an assistant who stepped in a puddle in the middle of one of GSME charity drive and wasn’t given a break to change it for hours.
Of course, that was just the tip of the ice burg. I always made sure I had a bottle of water and at least two power bars on me at all times. Sometimes I would be rushing from arrival at work until I left, and my only break would be in a taxi or elevator. While I was certainly supposed to have a lunch, I often used that time to get ahead on something or review my agenda on my desk.
Thankfully, almost all of my coworkers were kind. There were the usual tech heads that were standoffish and media stars who thought they were better than me, but they were few and far between.
But none of them really mattered, in the end. The only person of real importance to me was my boss.
And boy, he did not make it easy.
“I need you to drop off a package to the person and address listed. No one else. If they try to have you give it to a courier, or another assistant, refuse.” Mr. Fitzgerald said as they quickly walked down the hall to an elevator. Where the package was, I had no idea, but I was sure I’d be able to suss it out before too long.
“Yes, sir,” I replied shortly.
Mr. Fitzgerald had long, long legs and he did not shorten his strides for me. I often found myself having to hurrying along behind him to keep up, so I kept my replies short lest I sound breathless. Because breathless meant weakness, and I didn’t want to show even a single drop of incapability in his presence.
He stopped so suddenly that I almost crashed into his back, killing my momentum and rising up on my toes just in time to make sure I didn’t go careening into him.
“Sir?” he asked, those deep, chocolate eyes staring me down. “I don’t recall asking you to call me that.”
Crap. Had I already gotten in trouble? Or was this another test? I always felt like he was testing me, trying to find a weakness so he could get rid of me like all the others.
Well, I had never failed a test before and I certainly wasn’t going to now.
“Mr. Fitzgerald is five syllables long while Sir is only one. Considering how often we communicate, I thought it would waste less time to use the shorter honorific.” I paused for just a beat, deciding just how I wanted to play this. While I was a straight A student and determined to be the perfect employee, I also wanted him to know that he didn’t intimidate me. I’d been through far worse with far meaner people who held much more power over my head. “Sir,” I finished defiantly, tilting my chin up ever so slightly.
But to my great surprise, one of th
e corners of his mouth went up ever so slightly. “How practical of you,” he said tonelessly, his eyes roaming all over my face like he was trying to find something. It took all of the will power I had just to stare back at him flatly until he turned away and kept right on talking.
It was like those dark eyes could look right through me, seeing everything that I fought so hard to keep private and secret. My blood rushed to my ears and for a moment all I could hear was its thundering. I could feel my body trying to lean towards him, pulled by his gravitas which suddenly seemed so inescapable…
“Sir will do. Now, as I was saying…”
I jerked my mind back to attention, blushing furiously. What the hell was that?! But I didn’t have much time to question it, because then he went off into more directions which I jotted down diligently into my phone. But while almost all of my brain power was concentrated on that, the deeper, more subconscious parts were taking in everything about the powerful man in front of me.
His broad shoulders, his deep voice, that salt and pepper hair that spoke of experience and confidence. If he wasn’t my boss, if I hadn’t read horror story after horror story about him, he might have checked off all of my boxes.
Not that I had boxes, of course. I was too busy surviving, then studying, then graduating then job hunting to ever have any sort of romantic boxes.
But if I did have time for them, Mr. Billionaire Silver Fox would totally be in all of them.
Too bad nothing like that would ever happen for me.
“Surprise!”
I nearly dropped the sandwich platter I was hauling up to the meeting room for the little mini-conference Mr. Fitzgerald was having with some other big-wigs that I wasn’t important enough to know the name off. Taking a deep breath, I looked around the tower of food I was holding to see several of my coworkers, including Chris.
“What’s going on?” I asked, worried I had somehow forgotten an important event. I couldn’t have, could I? Sure, I was still figuring out a lot of the kinks of my job to make it perfectly streamlined, but I didn’t think I could do something so egregious as miss an entire celebrat-
