“You’ve got it. And as someone near and dear to us would say, tout-de-suite!”
* * *
This time, Zack and I got the job done with eleven minutes to spare, which flooded me with the sort of relief I needed today—particularly after the hell that had been yesterday.
Unless she found something wrong with her salad, I couldn’t imagine her finding fault with my performance thus far today. But since this was Blackwell, who the hell knew?
Armed with the bag from Le Salade in one hand and her ridiculous load of dry cleaning carefully draped over my other arm, I hurried toward Wenn’s entrance, took one of the elevators, and despite the repeated stops on the way up, I still had four minutes to spare when I stepped out onto our floor.
Now, compose yourself. Don’t let her see you looking harried.
And I didn’t. By the time I reached her office, it was noon on the dot, I’d collected myself, I’d made certain that her clothing—sheathed in plastic wrap—was stacked neatly in such a way that it wouldn’t slide off my arm, and then I went to her open door, where I found her flipping through the latest edition of Vogue.
“Ms. Blackwell?” I said.
She looked at me over the top of the magazine before she put it down on her desk.
“Madison.”
“I have your dry cleaning and your salad for you.”
“Why do you make it sound as if I’m in some sort of assisted living? ‘I have your dry cleaning and your salad for you.’ Are you to give me my pills next?”
I just blinked at her. “I’m sorry?”
She rolled her eyes at that and with a florid sweep of her hand, she removed her glasses, tossed them onto the magazine, and then leaned toward me. “It was a joke, Madison. Relax.”
“Is there any place in particular where you’d like me to put your clothes?”
“About my ‘clothes,’” she said as she stood. “Why are you carrying them like that?”
And now what have I done wrong?
“Like what?”
“Over your arm as if they somehow just decided to collapse over it.”
“I . . .”
“Do you have any idea what you’re holding on that arm, Madison?”
“Yes,” I said. “Well, no, not completely. But I can assume. I know you love Chanel and a good deal of what I’m seeing here looks like Chanel, so I can only imagine that all of this is very expensive.”
“Define ‘expensive.’”
“I read Vogue,” I said. “If memory serves, I believe that a Chanel suit costs several thousand dollars.”
“Define ‘several thousand dollars.’”
“I’m not sure. Seven or eight?”
“Seven or eight? Really, Madison? Seriously? I wear couture, not something off the rack. How would you feel if I told you that you were carrying over 250 thousand dollars worth of Chanel right now? Suits that you’ve deemed fit to just slump over your arm in ways that might bruise the fabric?”
“Bruise the fabric?”
“Yes, bruise the fabric. It happens.”
“I had no idea.”
“The proper way you should be holding my suits is by the hangers themselves. That way, they’ll be allowed to drop freely and hang as they were meant to be hung. After all, isn’t that how you were given them when you picked them up today? Didn’t Rosalind, whom I’ve been going to for years because she owns the city’s best dry-cleaning service, give them to you by their metal hooks?”
“She did,” I said. “But there must be fourteen suits here. They’re heavy. I’m not sure that I could have gotten them to you if I had to hook them over my fingers.”
“Then I suggest you take yourself to Wenn Fitness,” she said. “It is part of your benefits package, after all.”
“In fact, I plan to start going there tonight. Straight after work.”
“And that concerns me how?”
I just stared at her, not knowing what to say because whatever I said when it came to this woman seemed to be the wrong thing to say. So I stood there and decided to wait for what would come next.
“Give me the suits,” she said. “By their hangers.”
I put the paper bag from Le Salade on the edge of Blackwell’s desk, slipped my fingers through the thick bunch of metal hooks, and lifted the clothes carefully off my arm. I held them out to her, she took them from me with an exasperated sigh, and then she went to a door on the right.
When she opened it, I saw that it was a closet, and piece by piece, she delicately put each suit on the rack in such a way that no article of clothing touched the other one, despite the plastic wrapping.
“Consider that another lesson learned,” she said when she was finished. “Later, I’ll inspect each suit for any damage that might have been done. Let’s hope there isn’t any.”
“I’m sorry, Ms. Blackwell.”
“I have zero time for apologies. As for my salad, at the very least, I expect that to be perfect.”
And it was. After I’d removed it from the bag and revealed it to her, she picked through the leaves, gave me a brisk nod, and then watched me as I applied the olive oil and balsamic vinegar to it from the small plastic cups.
“Why is your hand shaking?” she asked.
Because you terrify me.
“I’m not sure,” I lied. “Probably because I haven’t eaten yet.”
“Ah, but the question is whether you have time for that,” she said. “How far along are you with the list I gave you earlier today?”
“I’m just over halfway through it.”
“More than halfway?” she said with a clear note of surprise in her voice.
“Yes, Ms. Blackwell.”
“Well, that’s something. And by the way, it does appear that you are capable of learning, because you just poured precisely the right amount of oil and vinegar on my salad. So, at the very least, you can leave here happy knowing that. As for my suits? Don’t you ever treat them like that again. Are we understood?”
“We are, Ms. Blackwell.”
She sat behind her desk and, for a moment, I thought I saw her expression soften just before it tightened again. “I warned you that this wouldn’t be easy, Madison. Margaret herself found that out. But look at her now—the director of human resources. Do you have that within you? Can you succeed as she did? I’m still unsure. That said, I’m not against you. I’m hoping that you’ll prove me wrong.”
I plan to.
“That’s enough,” she said. “Close the door behind you. Take a fifteen-minute break to get some food into you, and then finish the list. When you’re done, see me at the end of the day. And then we’ll assess.”
* * *
Since I’d brought nothing with me to eat, I went into the break area, chose a bottle of water and what was probably a day-old tomato and mozzarella sandwich from the vending machine, and then I went back to my desk, where I saw that Brock’s office door was open.
Had he also heard that exchange between Blackwell and me? Had everyone else on the floor heard me getting reamed out by her again? It was likely, and the idea that they might have heard it was nothing short of humiliating.
Once again, I had to wonder whether coming to New York had been the right choice for me. Whether spending all of that money on a Harvard education would one day lead to more than just fetching salads, dry cleaning, and the like. I had a mind for business that was going unused, and I was not happy about it.
But I wasn’t alone.
Like most Ivy League schools, Harvard cultivated an eclectic group of students from various backgrounds. Sure, the school was peppered with the elite, but Harvard accepted many people who came from rural or humble backgrounds just like mine—all in the name of diversity.
I respected my alma mater for that, and because I had bonded with a group of friends not unlike me while I was there, I also knew from keeping in touch with them that many were going through the same work-related issues that I was experiencing.
When we le
ft Harvard, all of us had naïvely thought that we’d paid our dues and that doors would just spring open for us. Not only were we wrong about that, we also didn’t know how difficult and competitive the job market was in New York. What most of us knew now was that if you came to New York City with a Harvard degree, it raised few eyebrows, because the city was already riddled with highly accomplished students from a host of high-end universities who were fresh to the marketplace and eager for work.
But I refused to give up on my dreams. I had to believe that one day I would get my break. Would it be with Wenn? I certainly hoped so. But if nothing moved forward for me after a year, I’d just have to take another hit and move on to another job.
When I sat down at my desk, I looked across the way and saw that Brock was looking at me. He mouthed the word “sorry” to me. I managed a quick smile that hopefully conferred that I was fine before I looked away from him, cracked open my bottle of water, and started to eat so I could get on with my day.
* * *
When the day did come to a close, I was not only exhausted from the sheer amount of running around I’d done at Wenn (Blackwell had sent me to nearly every department on every floor to deliver folders, memos, and whatnot to any number of people, clearly in an effort to make sure that I’d paid attention to Margaret when she gave me a tour of the building), but I also felt grateful that I’d managed to pull it off fifteen minutes before the clock struck five.
Since I’d signed up for this job knowing that working late was a given, I had to wonder what Blackwell had in store for me next. Not that I had to wait long to find out, because when I returned to the office, she called out my name as I passed her door.
“Madison,” she said.
I turned to face her. “Yes, Ms. Blackwell?”
“Have you finished?”
“I just finished. Everyone on that list has been taken care of.”
“Everyone?”
“Everyone.”
“Naturally, you know that I’ll hear if that isn’t the case.”
And so now I’m lying to you?
“It is the case,” I said coolly. “I’ve checked the list several times, and I’ve made certain of it.”
She looked at her watch and then lifted her head at me, appraising me with new eyes. “All right,” she said. “Fair enough. And good for you, Madison. You obviously took Margaret’s morning tour of the building seriously, because I sent you to places that you never would have found if you hadn’t paid close attention. Here’s what you need to know about me—you may not be thinking so now, but I can tell you that I am always fair. Do good work, and you’ll have no issues with me. Do poor work and—well, you already know how that will turn out. Yesterday was a risible disaster for you. Today, let’s call it a mixed bag. That said, if you learn from your mistakes and pay attention to what I have to say at all times—especially to the subtleties I refuse to make clear to you because I am, after all, judging your personal judgment—you might just right the ship, which I can tell you that before lunch, I wasn’t sure whether you’d be able to pull off. Still, it appears that you got through a list I was certain you’d never get through, so I’m impressed. And I mean that.”
Is the Devil in Chanel kind of giving me a weird sort of compliment?
“I want to apologize again about the way I carried your suits, Ms. Blackwell,” I said. “I wasn’t aware that fabric could bruise so easily. I had no idea.”
“We’re fine. I’ve inspected each suit, and no harm was done. Lucky you. But now you know what I expect, so please handle them with extreme care in the future. That’s all I ask. And Madison, don’t forget that you’ve got Zack to help you with things like that, for God’s sake. If you don’t think you can carry everything up here on your own, use him. He’s yours not just to drive you around, but to help you when you need his help.”
And you’re telling me this now? I wanted to scream at her. But instead, I just kept my tone neutral.
“I wasn’t aware of that,” I said.
“Now you are.”
“It’s still early,” I said. “What would you like me to assist you with next?”
“I’m actually fine for now. Why don’t you take off for the day? I believe you said you were going to try out Wenn Fitness after work?”
“I’m ready to get to it as long as you’re sure that you don’t need anything more from me.”
“I’ve already told you I don’t. Your day is over, so take a deep breath knowing that, and enjoy your workout. Go to the Wenn Fitness nearest to us—it’s just steps away from the building and I hear that it’s the best one Wenn owns. Now, shoo! I’ll see you tomorrow morning at seven. And Madison,” she said as I turned to leave. “Make sure you get your rest, because tomorrow might just be your most trying day yet.”
“Well, that certainly sounds like a threat,” I heard a woman say to my right. I turned and recognized her at once, if only because of all of the photographs I’d seen of her in newspapers and magazines, not to mention on television and the Internet. It was Jennifer Wenn, but what became immediately clear to me was that those photographs didn’t do her any justice, because she was far more beautiful in person.
She approached me with a smile.
“I’m Jennifer Wenn,” she said. “You must be Madison, Barbara’s new assistant. So let me just apologize for that right now.”
“You’re a horrible person, Jennifer,” Blackwell said from her office.
“Does Madison know that therapy is part of Wenn’s benefits package, Barbara?” Jennifer called out to her. “Because if she’s working for you, she probably should know that.”
“Horrible to the core!”
Jennifer fluttered her eyelids several times at me before she extended her hand, which I shook. There are few things worse in the business world than a weak handshake, so I was happy to find that Jennifer’s grip was firm.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Wenn.”
“Please, call me Jennifer. ‘Mrs. Wenn’ sounds too stuffy.”
“Stuffy?” Blackwell said. “Please. Do you want to know the real reason she doesn’t go by ‘Mrs. Wenn,’ Madison? It’s because she can’t carry it off. Beware of that one, because I’m here to tell you that while she might look like one, she’s no lady.”
“Seriously?” Jennifer said as she stuck her head into Blackwell’s office doorway. “This from the ball-breaker of Fifth Avenue?”
Blackwell brightened at that. “Is that what they’re calling me now? How unexpected. How spot-on. How divoon.”
“I’m sure they’re calling you lots of things,” Jennifer said as she stepped into the office and tossed a file onto Blackwell’s desk. “But ‘divoon’ isn’t one of them.”
“Tell that to the wind,” Blackwell said. “Perhaps it will care. And by the way, may I ask what the hell you are wearing?”
“A Dior suit I seem to remember you buying for me.”
“From last year’s collection.”
“Does it matter? I still love it.”
“You’ll never learn, will you? You wore that today to spite me.”
“I did no such thing.”
“The lies.”
I couldn’t believe how Blackwell was talking to Jennifer. Obviously, they were closer than I’d imagined, because if that wasn’t the case, who would speak like that to Jennifer Wenn, of all people? And then I remembered what I’d read in the news not so long ago—Blackwell had been with Jennifer, her husband, and a host of others when their plane crashed onto a South Pacific island. Clearly, they were tight.
“I assume this file you just hurled at me like a stone at a pauper is the report you want me to look over?” Blackwell said.
“It is. Alex and I just gave it another once-over. If you could have at it and let us know what you think, we’ll take it from there.”
“When do you need it?”
“Morning.”
“Morning? So, who’s the ball-buster now?”
“Not me,
lady.”
“Well, at least you can call me a lady.”
“Just remember,” Jennifer said when she walked around Blackwell’s desk and gave her a kiss on the cheek, “I’ll always love you despite the fact that you’re wholly impossible.”
With a mortified expression on her face, Blackwell shrank away from Jennifer. “And please remember that I eschew physical intimacy of any sort.”
“Which we should probably work on,” Jennifer said as she stood. “You know, in an effort to make you appear at least somewhat human.”
“Are you quite finished here? Madison and I were just saying goodbye for the day.” She tapped a finger on the file Jennifer had given to her. “And if Alex and you expect this by morning, it appears as if I’ll be staying here longer than I’d anticipated.”
“You’ll breeze through that report in no time. We both know it. But Madison and I will leave you in peace.” She turned to look at me. “How about if I walk you out?”
“That would be great,” I said, knowing that this was a prime opportunity to make a good impression on the second most powerful person at Wenn. “Just let me grab my bag and gym clothes, and I’ll be ready to go.”
When I went to retrieve them, I heard Blackwell say, “Madison is going to Wenn Fitness tonight.”
“Likely because she already knows that if she’s going to work for you, she’s going to have to build up her strength just to get through the day.”
When Jennifer said that, Blackwell may have said “Please,” but just hearing Jennifer acknowledge the truth made me smile as I stuffed my gym clothes and sneakers into my bag. With a conscious effort, I didn’t look at Brock when I swept my bag over my shoulder and walked over to Blackwell’s door.
“By the way,” Jennifer said, “I love your dress, Madison.”
“Thank you.”
“She got it at Century 21,” Blackwell said dismissively. “As you can imagine, I’ve had all I could do today to keep fresh air coming into my office because of it. At one point, I was so overwhelmed by the stink of the store on that dress, I started thinking ‘toxic air,’ ‘must find oxygen—STAT.’”
Ignite Me (The Annihilate Me Series) Page 9
