by Eva Luxe
Except I can’t. Not really. I just wish I could.
“My only question is which of our strapping young men that serve as runners you’re going to ask to help you do that.”
“Oh, I don’t need any help,” she says, putting her headphones on. “They’d just ruin my jams anyway, asking me a bunch of questions about my system that they never understand, even though, quite frankly, it’s plain as day if they just look at the shapes and the colors and my list that explains what everything is.”
“You have a list?” I ask her.
“Sure, and I also arranged everything electronically using actual tags— which is way easier than ordering and using all the Sticky Notes— for when this firm finally gets with the times and moves to an all-electronic filing system. Even though I’ll probably be long gone by the time that magical day ever fucking rolls around.”
“Excuse me?” I ask her.
“Oh, sorry,” she says, covering her mouth with her hand.
Her fingernails are painted red with some white birds on top. This is just another example of how she is one of the most interesting and beautiful creatures I think I have ever fucking seen.
I don’t mind the language— hell, everyone here knows my mouth and Asher’s mouth and the mouths of most of the partners at the firm are filthy as fuck— but I can’t believe she just admitted that this job doesn’t mean that much to her.
Sure, I’m not sure why it would to most twenty-year olds. She’s probably in college at night or otherwise on her way to bigger and better things. But most people have the sense not to admit that to their boss.
But this Ruby chick doesn’t seem to have a filter. And I have to admit, I fucking like that about her. My cock obviously does too, because I can’t seem to get it to stop standing a little too much at attention.
“Oh yeah,” she adds, as if what she had said just dawned on her. “I mean, who knows? Maybe I’ll run this place one day. But probably not. My life doesn’t usually work out that way.”
She shrugs and begins pushing the wheeled cart in the direction of the file room.
I think I may have just met my fucking match. But it can’t possibly be. She’s not even old enough to drink.
My heart says: I think I’m in love.
My cock says: I know I need to fuck her no matter what.
My brain says: I’m not listening to either of you. But at least I temporarily forgot about my shitty day in court.
Chapter 3 – Ruby
I can barely contain my excitement as I make my way to the filing room. I shut the door and break into a little happy dance.
It’s rare that I’m this ecstatic at work. Or anywhere, really.
I am a fuck-up. A fuck-up plain and simple. I’m twenty years old and happy to have this job as an entry level worker at this law firm.
The job description was a little vague so I straight up asked them at the interview what exactly my job even is. I was informed that the term “secretary” is no longer politically correct. The proper term is “legal assistant.” But even that wouldn’t be my fucking job title.
I’m just a “floater.” I fill in here and there when needed and I help with everything from filings, dictation, coffee and ordering meals for conferences. I thought that last part would be fun but they limit me to my choice of two mediocre sandwich and soup joints so I don’t get to make a lot of executive decisions.
Nor do I get a lot of opportunities to do happy dances like I’m doing now. But this the first time that Cameron Sanchez has talked to me. A lot of people around here call him “Ron” but I like to think of him as Cameron. It’s an exotic sounding name that matches his looks and personality.
He’s so fucking hot. He knows it too. He struts around the firm as if everyone should bow down and worship him. And they do. At least as far as his looks are concerned.
No one seems to take his position as named partner of the firm very seriously. All of that respect gets lavished on Asher Marks. Everyone around here sees Asher as some kind of god but I know that Cameron is the man behind the man. Or even the man in front of the man. He just knows how to be humble about it.
“What’s up with you?” someone asks.
I jump. Fuck.
I could barely hear anything over the sound of the Red Elvises but I know I heard something for sure. I remove my headphones and turn around, hoping I don’t get reprimanded by some scary partner or bitchy paralegal.
But then I see that it’s only Katie, slumped up against a filing cabinet in the corner. Her messy blonde hair almost covers her face but I’d know her super relaxed posture and apathetic facial expression anywhere.
Whew.
Katie is the person at this firm who comes the closest to being a fuck up like me.
She’s a really chill— perhaps too chill— secretary—make that “legal assistant”— who always hangs out in here when the partner she works for is in court or otherwise doesn’t need her.
“What the hell?” I ask, waving a hand over the putrid-smelling waft of air floating through this enclosed space.
“Sorry,” she says, passing me her vape pen. “You wanna hit?”
“No,” I tell her. “Geez.”
I’d already told her I can’t do that at work. I’m so grateful to be here, even if it is only as a floater. I still can’t believe this place hired me— nor what I had to do to even get to a place where reputable jobs would consider hiring someone like me— and I’ll gladly take what I can get.
“I can’t afford to fuck my life up any further by getting caught doing drugs at work,” I explain yet again to Katie.
I’d already told her a million times. But I’m sure she just forgot because she’s always so stoned.
“Let alone piss dirty on a drug test.”
She laughs.
“They don’t drug test people here. Drug tests aren’t for law firms. Lawyers believe in civil fucking rights and shit. And constitutional ones too.”
Now I’m the one who laughs, but she keeps going.
“Plus, the law is rife with drug users. Do you know how many lawyers and even judges would fail a drug test, due to all the coke they do? Have you ever watched the movie ‘Puncture’?”
“No,” I tell her, as I begin searching through the files and putting any with red star Sticky Notes into the cart that I’m wheeling. “I don’t have enough of an attention span to sit through a movie.”
“Oh, that’s all I do when I’m not working or reading,” Katie says. “Well, I mostly read, but I also love to watch movies.”
As she takes another hit of her vape pen and falls into some kind of weed stupor I refrain from saying, “No shit, Stoner.”
Don’t get me wrong. It’s not like I’ve never smoked pot before. Shit, I’ve done every drug under the sun— back then. But this is now.
The new me doesn’t smoke pot. Ruby Mansfield is all about getting her act together. Except, damn, it would be hot to get with Cameron Sanchez.
I’m sure that sleeping with your boss is more than frowned upon in this new professional world I’ve entered but I also can’t help thinking of it as one of those forbidden things that feels wrong to actually do but oh so good to think about. When I really admit it, it would probably feel oh so good to actually do, too.
As if reading my mind— or remembering what she had wanted to ask me about initially— Katie seems to perk up a little bit from her pot-induced zombie phase long enough to mumble, “So what were you jumping around about when you first got in here?”
I shrug, trying not to blush.
“Nothing.”
“Come on,” she says, “Spill it.”
What the hell? I think.
It’s not like she’s going to remember after a few more hits of weed anyway.
“All right, fine,” I tell her. “Cameron Sanchez just talked to me. Holy shit.”
I do a little happy dance again, not even caring how stupid I look.
“You’ve never talked to him before?�
�� she asks.
“No. And I’ve been crushing on him hardcore since I started here.”
“Well, who doesn’t?” she asks.
“I know, right! He’s so tall, dark and handsome. He’s got that exotic and mysterious look down pat. Like Johnny Depp or Antonio Banderas.”
I add this last part to wake her up again, since I know she likes movies. But she has already taken another hit and is drifting back off to near sleep.
“He’s definitely the most underrated partner and could double for Antonio Banderas,” Katie agrees.
I guess my actor references worked.
“And he’s a lot more down to earth than Asher, who walks around acting like he’s the only hot guy in the place.”
“I know, right!” I tell Katie, glad someone else agrees.
“Except for today,” I tell her. “Cameron is walking around pretty upset today. He was saying something about losing an argument in court.”
“Wow, I don’t think he ever loses,” Katie says.
“I know. I guess this judge is biased.”
I rap my fingers along the accordion file I’d just picked up off the shelf before dumping it into the cart with the rest of the files.
“So now they have to file motions in all of these cases, to get rid of him.”
“Being a lawyer sounds so awful,” Katie says, as she lays her head up against the metal shelf.
She sets her vape pen down beside her, finally finished.
I agree with her. I don’t plan to be at the law firm of Marks, Sanchez and Reed very long but it’s a stepping stone to my new future. The Ruby Mansfield I want to be doesn’t admit this to co-workers though— even if it’s just Katie. And even if I did just admit to her that I wish I could be with Cameron.
Whatever. She basically admitted the same thing to me.
Katie is drifting off again but she opens an eye and says, “Do you know that Asher Marks and Madilyn St. Clair are together?”
“Sure,” I tell her. “Everyone knows that.”
I was barely here for a whole minute when I heard the gossip that Asher always chooses a favorite associate to mentor in more ways than one and that this year his pet is Madilyn.
“No, I mean, they’re like really really together,” she says. “Like, for real for once.”
“What do you mean?” I ask her, but she’s almost asleep.
“The real deal,” is the only thing I can make out from her mumbles.
“Well, this is the last of the red stars,” I say, pointing to the stacks of folders featuring my sticky notes.
I shrug and then I precariously place a folder on top of a pile balancing on the cart.
“Guess I have to go see Cameron again so I can drop these off to him. Poor me.”
I fake sniffle.
Katie tries to laugh a bit, but her eyes are nearly closed.
“Wake me up if anything important happens,” she says. “And good luck with your dream guy.”
Dream guy indeed, I think, as I push the heavy cart towards Cameron’s office.
I only wish such dreams could come true.
Chapter 4 – Cameron
Just when I thought today couldn’t possibly get any worse, my secretary is quitting on me. The one that I’ve had for over twenty fucking years.
“Why are you doing this to me?” I ask her, as she stands in front of my desk wearing a floral pattern dress leftover from the 70’s and a somber expression newly plastered on her face.
I’ve only ever known Shirley to be a bright, cheerful lady who brings me my coffee to drink every morning and my perfectly proofread letters to sign every afternoon before she leaves. I never thought she would up and quit on me.
I hear someone clear their throat at the door to my office and I look up to see Ruby standing there with a cart full of files in front of her.
Even though I’m in the worst mood than I can remember being in for a very long fucking time, it lifts my spirts to see Ruby’s perky yet large breasts and her smiling yet slightly sarcastic looking expression. I love how she never seems to take anything around here too seriously. Because everyone else— including me— has the tendency to take it way too fucking seriously.
“Sorry, Mr. Sanchez,” she says, bowing her head slightly. I like how she does that too. “I was just dropping off these files you wanted, but I could come back.”
“That’s fine, Ruby,” I tell her. “You can arrange them on the credenza there.”
I nod across the way and she walks through my door still looking rather hesitant.
If it were anyone else, I would tell them to please come back later. Or I’d probably ask them why they’re bothering me with files that should go to a secretary. But I have a feeling that Ruby wants to be in my office. And I want her to be here too.
She is the one little ray of fucking sunshine in this otherwise miserable downpour of a day. One look at those blue eyes and I know that the storm will be over soon.
“Now, Shirley,” I say again. “Where were we? Oh yes. How can you possibly be up and leaving me like this?
“I’m sorry,” she says, for what has to be the fifth time. “But my husband is retiring and wants to move to Florida.”
“Florida?” I explode. “Why Florida? Does he want to get eaten by alligators? Swept away in a hurricane? Because that’s the only fate that awaits him in Florida.”
Her eyes widen and Ruby clears her throat, more subtly than she did when she was at the door. I realize I may have gone a bit overboard in my reaction to the news of her departure. I sneak a peek at Ruby in an effort to try to calm myself down.
She’s reaching over the cart to line some folders up on the credenza and her ass looks so good. She’s also looking back at me with her eyebrows raised, as if to tell me to be nice to Shirley.
I know she’s right. There’s no need for me to poke fun at an entire state just because I’m upset that my secretary is fucking leaving me.
“I’m sorry, Shirley,” I tell my secretary. “I’m sure there are some pleasant things about Florida. The beaches. The sun. The other…”
Ruby clears her throat. She turns around again and shoots me a look as if I’m being bad.
I was going to say “other old people” but that’s obviously offensive. Sometimes I don’t think enough before I fucking open my mouth, especially when I’m in the heat of the moment. Ruby seems to know this about me even though I barely know anything about her.
Perhaps I’ll have to change that.
“…retirees,” I finish. “But I thought I had another five years left of having you as my secretary. You’re only…”
I trail off again, without Ruby even having to clear her throat this time. I was going to guess sixty-five, but for all I know Shirley could be eighty. And her age is beside the point. All that matters is that I need my coffee and my typed up and proofread letters and I don’t know who else is going to bring them to me every day.
“…celebrating twenty years of working here,” I quickly finish.
“Twenty years is a long time,” Shirley says, as if to say that I should have known she could leave any day now. “And I was trying to decide how to tell you. It was a very difficult thing to do.”
“And you decided you just had to tell me now, today of all days? When I just…”
Took a pounding in court, I want to say, but don’t. I never admit defeat in front of my subordinates. It only makes me look weak. And I’m certainly not going to admit it in front of Ruby.
“I know, I know, Mr. Sanchez,” Shirley says, shaking her head.
She looks down at the floor instead of up at me.
“I didn’t want to have to do it at all and especially not today of all days,” she finally continues. “But it’s the last day I can put in my two-week notice before…”
“Before what?” I ask her, since now it’s her turn to trail off.
“Before we have to leave for Florida,” she tells me. “Winston bought a condo and we have to be down the
re to do a walk-through inspection in two weeks.”
“Who’s Winston?” I ask her, picturing one of those wiener dogs.
“He’s my husband,” she says, looking very offended.
Ruby shoots me another shocked look.
Oh yeah. Winston is her husband. That makes sense. I know I should know that after all these years. Not to mention from the context of our conversation. But I’m a little distracted due to constantly looking at Ruby’s ass.
And Shirley barely ever talks about her husband or anyone at all really. She just does her work. Makes my life easier. And that’s why I’m going to miss her.
“Who’s going to bring me my coffee?” I ask Shirley. “And my legal letters and pleadings and briefs?”
“Mr. Sanchez, I’m sure you can find someone else to do those things,” Shirley says, smiling shyly, obviously pleased with the fact that I need her. “Mr. Marks said that Madilyn can start interviewing suitable replacements right away.”
“Asher knows about this?” I ask her.
I don’t know what I feel more betrayed about— the fact that she informed Asher before she told me or the fact that Asher didn’t tell me as soon as he knew.
“I told HR first,” she says, taking a step back as if she fears she did something wrong. “And they told me to let the managing partner know right away so that he can begin making arrangements.”
I do my best not to grind my teeth. The term “managing partner” is enough to drive me nuts. Fucking Asher thinking he’s in charge of everything. Fucking HR apparently agrees with him.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Sanchez…” Shirley says, wringing her hands together as if she’s distraught.
“Shirley, it’s fine,” I tell her, letting out a sigh.
She looks up at me as if she’s trying to figure out if I really mean it.
“I’m grateful for all your help over these past two decades and if you want to leave me for the beaches and sunny skies of Florida, by all means, you deserve to be happy.”
