Unstuck

by Liliana Camarena

  “Ha! Good one, of course I do, that would be too much right? Not knowing what Salmon looks like?” he said giving the last bite to his sandwich.

  “Patrick, you don’t know what kind of snacks you like,” I stared at him and he laughed, “Ok, ok…,” he put his hands up while nodding. He gave one last drink to his OJ and stood up. I took his dishes and put them on the sink getting ready to wash them.

  “Leave them there. Sarah will take care of that in the morning,” he said from the kitchen door.

  “I don’t mind doing it,” I said turning to the sink.

  “I do mind you doing it. C’mon leave them,” he waved his hand so I would leave the kitchen and I did so.

  “I really didn’t mind you know,” I said smiling.

  “You got the schedule?” he asked as we walked out of the kitchen and stopped at the foyer. He put his hands in his pants pockets.

  “Yes I did, Golf course, noon,” I nodded.

  “Lucinda, have you ever been golfing?” he looked at me suspiciously and I just shook my head. I had no idea what a golf course looked like, and no idea what happened in a golf match, and I didn’t even know if it was called a match.

  “Ok, before going to the course we will have to go shopping for your golf outfit,” I scrunched up my nose in disagreement. “At least you need golf shoes.”

  “Why? I’m not playing,” I said. The idea of shopping with Patrick had me a bit nervous, plus, from what I’d seen on movies or TV, golf outfits were hideous.

  “You will be assisting me,” he air quoted the last part “that means you will be walking around the course, for that you need to wear golf shoes. You can wear a pant suit with the golf shoes if you want, I just think you’d look hilarious,” He said flashing me a huge smile.

  “Fine. Golf shoes,” I said crossing my arms.

  “And outfit. Consider it your golfing uniform. I close a lot of deals over golfing,” He said still with his hands on is pockets.

  “Ok, then,” I nodded and Patrick nodded back. “What time should I wake you up?” I asked pretty sure of myself.

  “How did you know I needed to be?” He had a humorous smile on his lips.

  “Lucky guess,” I smiled back.

  “Eight. I need you to wake me up at eight,” I nodded “Good night, Lucinda,” He said as he began to turn to take the stairs.

  “Good night, Patrick,” I walked back to the pool house. Once in my bed I looked at my cell phone to see that it was 3:30 am. I set the alarm for 7:00 am. I had 3 and a half hours left to sleep and I had all the intent of sleeping them well.

  At 7:00 am I woke up, took a shower and let my hair air dry while I chose what to wear. I was reminded that I was buying an outfit for the day later so I just threw some sweat pants and halter on, put on my make up and walked into the kitchen. It already smelled delicious.

  “Good Morning,” I said to Miranda.

  “Good Morning, Lucy. How was your first night?” “Good, thank you, Miranda. Question,” I said as I leaned against the breakfast counter, she nodded and I smiled.

  “I am supposed to wake Patrick up. How do I do that? Should I call him on the phone…?” I let the last line linger and Miranda smiled-

  “No dear, you go, knock on the door and if you don’t hear a thing you go in and shake him by the shoulders.”

  “Does he...wear any clothes to sleep?” I asked with a serious look.

  “Oh My god, Lucy,” Miranda almost spit out her tea, “Where did you get that idea? Of course he does,” I shrugged and look at the clock: 7:55 pm. Time to wake him up.

  I went up the stairs and knocked on his door. Thankfully, he answered quickly and I just let him know that it was time to wake up. I took my time to have breakfast while he was getting ready. Miranda let me know that Patrick would ask for breakfast once he was ready; there was no way to know what mood he was on so we should just wait.

  I was on a stool having my last sips of OJ when Patrick showed up in the kitchen, “Good Morning, Ms. Owens.” He spoke in a serious tone; I assumed he was not a morning person. I looked up from my glass and saw him all dressed up in a brownish golf outfit. Did I mention I hate golf outfits?

  “What would you want for breakfast, Patrick?” I asked as I jumped down from the stool and took the glass to the sink.

  “Mom’s omelet please, and coffee. Lots of it,” He said as he walked out of the kitchen and I turned to look at Miranda, already making the omelet. “Here,” she said giving me a tray with a cup and a pot with coffee. “You’ll want him to have his coffee before he asks you to go through the day’s schedule.”

  I was right; Patrick was not a morning person. I took the tray with the cup and pot and was about to open the door to the dining room when someone put the newspaper on the tray. I looked up to find Sarah smiling and I just nodded and smiled. It seemed as everyone wanted me to be good at my job. Maybe they were just tired of seeing assistants come and go. I pushed the door open with my butt and out I went, expecting the unexpected.

  “Coffee,” I said as I put the tray on the table and poured some on the cup I guessed he liked it black since there was nothing else on the tray. “Paper,” he said and I handed it to him. He just nodded and drank the cup of coffee in one long sip.

  “Thank you,” he said. I poured some more coffee since I saw his expression change completely from “non coffee Patrick,” to “coffee Patrick.”

  “Let’s go through the day’s schedule, shall we?”

  “Let me get my things,” I smiled and ran into the kitchen, “Getting my things...” I said in a whisper and ran to get everything I needed. In less than 5 minutes I was already back in the kitchen and trying to calm my breathing. “He started eating already,” said Miranda. I took two deep breaths and walked out to the dining room.

  “So, golf thing,” I said and he looked at me differently. I couldn’t tell if he was amused or angry that I called the golf thing a thing thing.

  “Yes, the golf thing,” he smiled. Well, he was amused. “We are leaving 10:30 to get your golf 'uniform',” he air quoted remembering that I didn't want to get an outfit to walk around the field. I just nodded. “We will be meeting Stinson at 12:00 so I guess we’ll be eating around 2 and we’ll be back here by 5:00 pm or so,” he said while chewing on a big chunk of omelet. I just nodded again. I already knew all that from the schedule he sent the previous night, which I lost half my sleep memorizing.

  “Your job is to write everything down, I mean everything, Lucinda. On the record and off the record. That way I can go through every word spoken. It's there where I usually find weak spots or mental slips that give me clues,” he shrugs.

  “Oh! You use Golf distract them. I’d usually take the clients to a room in the private Little Black Book headquarters’ library where they keep the first editions of every book… I got great tips from those little tours.” I smiled as I prepared the notepad on the tablet for the meeting. I looked up and he was smiling at me. “What?” I said.

  “You’ll never be able to let go of being 'Miss Stuart'? Are you?” I shook my head. I was not Miss Stuart anymore. I was sure.

  “I am not Miss Stuart,” I said looking at the tablet.

  “You will always be,” He said putting his napkin on the table and getting up, “That’s why I hired you,” he smiled again, “see you at 10:30?” I quietly said yes and he went to his office.

  I was not Miss Stuart. I was Lucy. I was Lucinda now.

  My God! The golf outfits were worse once you put them on. I looked at myself in the mirror; I was wearing a not too short black skirt and a pink sweater. That was the best I could do, I was in no way wearing a skirt with funny patterns on it and a horrible vest in brown and green. Black and pink would have to do.

  “How's it going?” I heard Patrick voice.

  “Patrick, do you have any idea what privacy is?”I asked while looking at my butt in the mirror. It didn’t look too big or nonexistent. It was there and that was enough. I was thankful that I had s
haved my legs.

  “That’s what all my assistants have asked at one point. Maybe I don’t.” He sounded like he was in deep thought.

  “Anyway…,” I said while hanging back the outfits that I hated, “I have the one I want.”

  “Ok, put it on, you won’t have time to change once we are there,” I heard him walk away.

  I walked out of the changing room to find him already waiting for me with a pair of shoes and a couple of hats to choose from.

  “I wish winter came sooner,” I said as I grabbed the white, hideous, shoes and checked if they were the right size. I picked the Pink cap that seemed less ridiculous and handed them to him. “There,” I said.

  “You sound just like me first thing in the morning,” he smiled and went to pay for everything. I didn’t even want to hear how much it cost. Whatever it was, it was a waste of money.

  “Yeah, what’s up with that? You are definitely not a morning person are you?” I asked as he walked towards me with a bag full of my ‘civilian’ clothes and other items.

  “Not at all. I forgot to tell you that. I can’t function without my first cup of morning coffee,” we got in the back of his SVU as Mike drove us to the golf course.

  “Now I know,” I said as I put my new shoes on and the cap on.

  “I don’t get to see this side of my assistants very often,” he seemed amused by something.

  “What, their shoe size?” I asked in a horrible, horrible mood.

  “No, their temper, they always seem compliant and obedient,” he is still very amused.

  “Do you want me to be that? Right now I’m in a horrible mood but I can hide it if you want,” I looked at him directly in the eye.

  “No, hide it for my clients, with me you can be like this; it’s a breath of fresh air,” he kept on, trying to conceal a smile.

  “Ok,” I said, and my bad mood began to fade away. Patrick was an easy guy to be around. On weekends, I’ll get my first glimpse of CEO, owner, billionaire Patrick on Monday and, by the looks of what I saw during my interview, he would act completely different.

  I felt the SUV stop and the door next to Patrick opened. He jumped down and me right after him “Thanks Mike,” I said and smiled up to the huge guy. Mike smiled back.

  “So you read about Stinson?” Patrick's business face was on.

  “I did,” I nodded as I walked by him with the tablet open on the notepads I had prepared during breakfast.

  “Good, so you probably know that we are looking for a collaboration with them on our education branch,” It wasn’t a question but still I answered yes.

  “Fish for every detail you find about the possibility of collaborating or buying them off,” Ok. Patrick was going for the extremes, I liked it!

  For the next 2 hours I walked around a golf course, still not getting a thing about golf itself, and writing down everything that seemed interesting. Seemed that in the end May, Inc. would end up buying Stinson’s company since he didn’t seem to find a collaboration very helpful. I wrote everything though, off and on the record. I learned that on the record was when Patrick said “Lucinda,” while looking at a golf ball, a hole or the sky. Off the record was everything else.

  After that we went to have lunch, where the on and off the record pointers were still given and I couldn’t eat half my salad because by the time I was free to sink in Patrick, in all his businesslike manner, got up said goodbye and with a “Lucinda,” full of authority ordered me to leave with him. Goodbye Salad.

  “Why did we leave like that?” I asked Patrick once in the SUV.

  “We don’t need them, Lucinda, they need more of us than they realize. Once Stinson sees that we’ll be back in business. Leaving before him was showing him who has the upper hand,” He said in a patient way, like a teacher to his pupil. I just nodded, “Got anything juicy?” he asked.

  “Well, I can tell you, he doesn’t want to collaborate, that’s for sure. Unless he is fishing for something else,” I told him and he nodded.

  “Mike,” He raised a bit his voice for Mike to hear him “Take us for pizza,” I immediately grabbed my stomach. “I noticed you didn’t eat,” He smiled and I nodded.

  Three

  “That was definitely the best pizza I’ve ever had,” I said as we both walked into the house later that evening.

  “Definitely. Best pizza ever,” He said smiling like a little child.

  “Patrick, do you even know the name of that place?” I asked him with my hands on my hips.

  “Nope, I don’t even know what kind of pizza I just ate. All I know is that it was the one I always have and it was delicious.” I just shook my head in disbelief. This man was so helpless.

  “Do you need anything else?” I asked him in the foyer.

  “No. I’ll let you know if I do,” he said going up the stairs.

  “I know you will,” I said going the opposite way to the pool house.

  The rest of the day was uneventful; Patrick had very few pregnant lady cravings, like the milkshake Donnie used to make (Donnie= former assistant,) and tacos for dinner. He sent me Monday’s schedule, and it looked horrible and stressful but also included that I was going to be in charge of the putting it together from then on, which meant I was going to be the one sending the schedule to him. The real job was about to begin; the weekend was just an adjusting period.

  On Monday morning I was up at 6 in the morning; we were leaving at 8 so I had just enough time to get in the shower, have my hair done and put on some make up. I decided that I was now someone’s personal assistant so I didn’t have the need to look the part, at least not the “boss,” part. I put on a black pant suit a red shirt and pulled my hair up in a pony tail, red pumps and red purse. I thought that it was the right look for Maynard’s assistant as everyone was going to know me from then on. I was in the kitchen at 7:30 having a glass of OJ and a quick bagel with cream cheese when I heard Patrick going into the kitchen. He gave me a look and went out to the dining room again. I grabbed the tray with the coffee and the paper and went outside.

  “Coffee,” I said and he reached his hand out, “Paper,” I said he drank the first cup of coffee in a single sip and nodded. Post coffee Patrick was back.

  “Breakfast?” I asked and he looked at his watch and shook his head no.

  “Leaving?” I asked again and he nodded.

  “See you in the car in 10,” Was all he said and I nodded.

  “No breakfast,” I said going into the kitchen.

  “Oh honey, it’s going to be a bad day,” said Miranda. I looked at her feeling panicky on the inside she went on. “Breakfast and midnight snacks are his favorite meals, if he is not having breakfast he is in a terrible mood,” I nodded and grabbed two thermoses, filled them with coffee, grabbed my purse and went to greet the boss.

  “Here,” I said giving him one of the thermoses.

  “What is it?” he asked, still in a horrible mood.

  “Coffee,” He immediately drank it in a single sip.

  “Thank you,” he said sounding more normal. We rode in silence for a while until he felt ready to speak, “You look nice, by the way,” he said turning to look at me.

  I smiled; maybe I was going to be able to scare the bad mood away before getting to the office. We had one hour to figure that out.

  “Thank you,” I said sounding cheerful, “do I look the part?”

  “Well, what part do you want to look?” he asked raising his eyebrows. See! Right there! I was bringing good mood back. That sounded just like a Justin Timberlake song, right? “Maynard’s assistant,” I said smiling.

  “Then you definitely don’t look the part,” I must have had the saddest look on my face because he laughed out loud and went on, “It’sn’t bad, Lucinda. Most of my assistants look like they have been run over by a bus. Their hair is always a mess, no makeup, surely no high heels,” he said looking at my feet and with a smile on his face he said, “You look like someone with an assistant of her own.”

 
“Is that bad?” I asked still worried.

  “Not bad, not good. It’s you; Lucinda and I hired you for you. Although I don’t think you’ll be ‘Maynard’s assistant’ for long,” he shook his head while smiling.

  “What?”I was confused.

  “People will want to remember your name,” he said and smiled. I didn’t know if I wanted that. I wanted to be Maynard’s assistant; I wanted to blend in so much that I would be someone’s assistant and nothing more.

  “Lucinda,” I heard Patrick’s voice; it was barely 11 in the morning and I had already been inside his office six times; had met with Brian in HR, signed 2 contracts, had my picture taken; gave orders to people that were behind on some deadlines and now I was on my way for the seventh time to his office.

  “Yes, Patrick?” I asked going in; he had a face that could easily resemble someone that possessed by the devil himself. So much I even took two steps back in case he was about to spit fire at me.

  “Close the door,” he said as he rolled the sleeves of his shirt up. I did as he said. “Sit down,” I did as he said. AGAIN. In the last three days I had learnt something very useful: When Patrick is in a bad mood you just do as he says and answer in monosyllables.

  “Have you heard from Adams?” He was breathing heavily.

  “I’m sorry, Patrick. I haven’t. I’ve talked with his assistant at least 4 times but he hasn’t called back,” I was sure he was about to start spitting fire.

  “Ok,” he nodded. I was confused; confusion was everything that I felt in this first day at the office I had no idea what I was doing that’s for sure. “I’m stuck,” he said taking his hands to his face, he seemed frustrated.

  “Stuck with what?” I asked. Maybe if he said everything out loud it would help.

  “I can’t see the problem,” he said motioning to the computer screen.

  “May I?” I said eyeing the computer, he nodded. I looked at the screen. Spreadsheet, loads of numbers, he was looking at predictions. Financial forecasts of the company's divisions. “What Branch?” I asked still deep into the spreadsheet.