by JA Huss
“Where is the new office for Ellie Hatcher? I was told my father promoted her and she was to move her office up to the seventh floor immediately.”
“Oh, yes,” Stephanie says. “We only had one spare. Well,” she corrects. “We didn’t have any spare offices, but Heath’s office had an annex, which inventory has resupplied with something that should work temporarily. Until Ellie can order something to ‘make her happy’.” Stephanie’s fingers do little air quotes around that last part. I must look puzzled because she adds, “Your father’s instructions. He wants her pampered for once. Again, his exact words.”
“Hmm. My father has a sweet spot for Ellie Hatcher?” Why? She’s clearly crazy.
“Oh, he loves her to death. Everyone does.” Stephanie laughs. “She is so sweet. She and Heath were close too.”
“Then why is her office still in the aviation maintenance hangar? In fact, why the hell is she working down there to begin with?”
“Um, well,” Stephanie says, perplexed. “Logistics. The guests fly in, she greets them, escorts them to their appropriate studios, and then brings them back to their plane.”
“She’s getting paid an executive salary?” I ask. “To match her executive status?”
“Well, um, I have no idea,” Stephanie says. “I’m not privy to salaries. But your father was always generous to his employees. And Ellie was brought in while she was still in college. I think your fathers were friends, right?”
It’s my turn to be perplexed. “Were they?” Jesus Christ, how did I allow myself to get so removed from the family business?
“They were,” Stephanie says with a smile. “And IT is still down in the maintenance hangar too. That was the first building completed after the Atrium eight years ago. People just settle in, you know? I’m sure if Ellie wanted a new office she’d have gotten one. But I don’t think she’s that kind of employee, Mr. Stonewall.”
“You don’t think she wants this office?”
“Oh, I’m sure she’ll be thrilled when she sees it. But she’s not the type of girl to demand things. Not things like an office with a view, anyway.”
I ponder this for a moment. “Does it have a view?”
Stephanie smiles. “A very nice view. And it will be ready this afternoon. Would you like me to invite her up and show her around?”
“No,” I say, absently looking down through the courtyard to the waterfall as it spills out over the sixth floor. “I’ll handle Ellie Hatcher. Thanks, Stephanie. If you need me I’ll be in my office.”
I walk to the door with my name on it, still trying to wrap my head around my new life as the CEO of Stonewall Entertainment. Thank God my office is not made of glass like everything else around here. And my desk is not a picnic table, for fuck’s sake.
I open the door, step in, and close it behind me.
The window is magnificent. Floor to ceiling. But at least it’s got a view of the hills and not of the city. I can’t even take a city view right now. I get enough of that from the penthouse I will call home while I’m here.
The rolling hills are bright green and dotted with cows. That makes me smile. The Tech Center is huge and growing bigger every day. But it was an afterthought. The downtown area was far too crowded to support the sprawling campuses of the many tech companies that now call the city home. Our campus alone is more than a hundred and fifty acres. You can’t get that in a city. You have to create it on the edge of something.
My father’s words spill over into my thoughts. This campus is his dream actualized and now I’m walking away. It’s not the ideal end, is it?
My phone buzzes in my pants, but when I reach in to get it, I remember that I have two phones now. Mine and Heath’s. It’s Heath’s phone that is buzzing. It’s always Heath’s phone.
I don’t even bother unlocking the home screen to read it. I can’t imagine it’s anything important. Just one of the many, many girls on his daily schedule of inappropriate business.
Instead I sit at my large glass desk and bring the oversized computer monitor to life, then do a search for all women at Stonewall named Ellie.
I get no hits. Which is weird, since I know damn well we have at least two of them.
Maybe Ellie is short for something. I try Eloise, because it was my grandmother’s name and pops into my head immediately, and my Ellie’s face pops up.
Eloise Hatcher is a graduate of some private Catholic college in the Midwest I’ve never heard of. She has a perfect smile and a short bob haircut in this photo, a lot shorter than it is now. And she’s wearing a pale pink sweater with a pearl button at her throat.
Jesus, can that girl be any more sweet? What exactly was her relationship with Heath? Were they dating?
It makes me sort of sick to picture her with Heath.
We have exactly one Eloise. So who is this other Ellie? The dirty one? The one who practically offered to suck my dick in the stairs just moments after Eloise Hatcher got up off her knees?
Ellen. There are seventeen Ellens. But Ellen Abraham is the only one with red hair, fuck-me eyes, and tits pitched up so high on her chest, her cleavage is showing in her employee profile picture.
Ellen Abraham is in the employee outreach department and runs the internal communications network, reporting directly to Jennifer Sanders from the meeting I just left.
She is not my type at all.
Neither is Eloise Hatcher. But while Ellen Abraham likes to wear her personality like a coat, Eloise Hatcher likes to hide hers. She has no hobbies listed. Ellen’s employee page reads like a dating site profile.
Eloise has two sentences to describe herself. I enjoy helping people. And dogs.
I actually laugh out loud. Because sheepdogs. She has been sending Heath pictures of sheepdogs. Who owns a sheepdog these days? Most women want little designer puppies. Things that fit in purses. Living accessories.
Eloise wants a farm dog.
I shake my head. She’s captured my attention for sure. And even though I mistook her for Ellen, and even though it was Ellen’s dirty messages to Heath that sparked that interest, the pearl button at her throat is the reason I’m still thinking about her now. That crazy outburst in the conference room was way over the top, but not in the way Ellen’s cleavage showing in her employee photo is. And that trip down the slide, holy shit. I think I will laugh about that for years. Her skirt all bunched up at her hips. Her shoes coming down the slide ahead of her. The hands and knees.
Fuck.
And then I realize how long it’s been since I got a kick out of something.
My phone beeps and I pick it up. “Yes,” I say.
“Mr. Stonewall?” Stephanie asks on the phone. “Mr. Lewis is here to see you.”
“Thanks, send him in.” I hang up the phone and close out of the employee profile program, then stand, button my suit coat, and walk to the door just as Stephanie opens it and Lewis walks through.
Time to get back to the business of dismantling my father’s company, I guess.
Ridiculous girls with pearl-button sweaters and outrageous outbursts will have to wait.
Chapter Seven - Ellie
“Andrew!” I say, hugging him tightly when he embraces me. “How have you been?” Andrew Manco is a twenty-something former child star who now heads a giant multi-million-dollar virtual reality corporation.
“Ellie!” Andrew says warmly as we break apart. “Fantastic, chick. Just fantastic. I have to tell you, that advice you gave me last year was the best. I don’t know what I’d do without you, Ells. Seriously. You’ve been there for me since I was sixteen and I don’t have enough words to thank you for sticking by me all these years.”
“Oh, Andrew,” I say, blushing slightly. “It’s your potential. I’m just the one who saw it first, that’s all.”
Andrew starts gathering his equipment, but I wave him off. “Leave it, Andy, the guys will bring it over for you and help you set up.”
We lock arms as we make our way off the tarmac and down to the tra
in station. I push the call button as Andrew talks a mile a minute about his new venture. He was messed up as a teenager. And when he first started coming here when he was sixteen for interviews, I didn’t even like him. Such a jerk. And his career as an actor was already over. I’ve seen a dozen child stars come through here over the past seven years who fell into the same trap. They think everything is permanent. The money, the fame, the shows. But it’s not. You have to adjust to the times. And that’s hard to do when you’re still a child and no one is willing to tell you the truth. No one is willing to disrupt the gravy train when they are riding down the tracks with you.
Well, I’ve had my share of fights with Andrew over the years when he came through for interviews and appearances on the children’s side of Stonewall Entertainment. And last year we had it out in a big way. I forced him to see the truth.
Why the hell would a kid who graduated from MIT at age twenty with a masters in virtual engineering waste his time trying to revive a failing acting career? It was over, I told him. That part of his life was over and it was time to start a new one.
He left mad that day, but six months later his start-up company, Virtual Vacations, went public, making him the world’s newest multi-millionaire.
His acting career was never that lucrative.
“Let me tell you, Ellie, what a wild ride since you saw me last…”
He talks and talks. His mouth never stops moving as we take the train over to the tech studios. It occurs to me he’s never been to this studio. All the other times he’s come for interviews it was for stuff relating to the acting. The children’s network. The entertainment shows. But this studio is for the tech news.
It’s like he’s graduating to the world of grown-ups right before my eyes.
His expression of awe, and excitement, and wonder never lets up. Even when we exit the train and weave our way through the tech building, he still has more to say. So much to say, in fact, he continues talking to me all the way through makeup and they actually have to tell me to step back off the set as they set up his microphone.
I just smile. I feel like a proud older sister as the interview starts and Andrew demonstrates a virtual reality vacation to a fictional tropical beach. Someone passes me a visor and when I slip it over my head his creation comes to life.
I actually squeal, making all three interviewers laugh. The camera even pans to me to catch my reaction for a split second and they have a friendly laugh at my expense.
Well, my day might’ve started out with almost killing a rock star and making a fool of myself in front of the entire Atrium staff, but all that is wiped away right now.
“I’m glad I could help you, Andrew,” I say, as we walk back to the train. “I’m thrilled you’re doing so well.”
“Ellie,” he says as we step onto the train. “You did more than help. You set me up for a life of happiness and fulfillment. No one wanted to tell me that my career as a child actor was over. No one had the guts to tell me to go to college six years ago when my life was falling apart. No one but you. You saved me from years of struggle, depression, and disappointment. I owe you everything.”
“You’re too sweet,” I say, pulling him in for a sisterly hug.
“They invited me back next month when we launch the new product, and I tell you, Ells, you will die when you see how great it is. What you just saw is nothing. I’m unveiling something even better this weekend in Vegas.”
“Oh,” I say, chewing on my fingernail. “Shit, I won’t be here next month, Andrew. I’m leaving Stonewall. I gave my two weeks’ notice just before you arrived. Time for me to take my own advice and move on, you know?”
“What?” His face is stricken with disbelief. “You’re leaving? Really? What will you do, Ellie? You’re so good at this job.”
“Escorting people to interviews?” I laugh. “Anyone can do that.”
“That’s not what you do,” Andrew says. “That’s not what you do at all. You’re like… like a guiding light, Ellie. Did you know I always looked forward to coming here just because I knew I’d get to talk to you?”
“What?”
“Yeah,” he says. “I know you probably just thought I was a whining, complaining kid with stupid problems, but you never acted that way. You listened to me and always dished out good advice. Even if I didn’t take it right away. And last year, hell, I’d still be wallowing in self-pity if you hadn’t shaken the stupid right out of me with your talk.”
“Well…” I blush. “I truly appreciate that, Andrew. I do. But that’s exactly why I need to leave. I’m successful here. I’ve reached my full potential at Stonewall and I need to challenge myself. Move on, take new risks and try to get new wins. I hope you understand and we can still be friends.”
“Of course, Ellie.” He smiles at me with genuine affection. “Of course. Always. Anything you need, just let me know.”
We’re silent after that, and when we step out at the tarmac depot, I get the feeling that Andrew is sorry about my news. I might’ve taken all the wind out of his sails today.
“Look, Andrew,” I say as we walk up to the plane’s airstairs. “You have my number, right? You can call and talk to me whenever you want. Nothing is going to change between us. You’re a huge part of my future success too, you know.”
He places his hands on my shoulders and takes me in for a second. “Thanks, Ells. Really. You’re one of only a handful of people I count as friends. You’ve always been there with the truth when I needed it. I’ll miss you a bunch.”
We hug and then he climbs back onto the jet, stopping at the top to give me one last wave.
I sigh deeply once he disappears inside, wondering why my life is so unfair. I need to quit. I can’t face McAllister Stonewall after this morning. I’ve used Andrew as a distraction since the incident in the stairs. But now that my day is over, I can’t help but feel embarrassed—
hell, mortified—at what I did this morning.
Did I really let McAllister Stonewall stick his fingers inside me? Did I really come in a stairwell? Was I really on my knees ready to suck his dick?
I can’t even think about it. And Ming is gone by the time I get back to the office because she has some kind of continuing education today, so I can’t even tell her what happened.
Good, I think. Good. Just sit down, write that resignation letter, and put this day, this job, and this life behind you, Ellie.
Everything comes to an end. And this is the end of my time with Stonewall Entertainment.
Time to move on.
Chapter Eight - Mac
“Mr. Stonewall?” Stephanie’s voice through the speaker on my desk phone pulls me away from the view out the window.
“Yes,” I call back.
“I’m sorry, sir, I know you’re done for the day, but there’s a Mr. Manco on line four.”
“Andrew Manco? Wasn’t he here today for something?”
“Um,” Stephanie says. “I’m not sure, really. But yes, it’s the Mr. Manco. He sounds upset. Which reminds me, I got word from Brutus’ people—he’s fine.”
“Jesus,” I mutter. As if my mind wasn’t wandering enough to my earlier escapades with Miss Hatcher. “I’ll take it, thanks.”
“No problem, Mr. Stonewall. See you tomorrow.”
I sit down at my desk and press line four and speaker. “This is McAllister Stonewall. How can I help you, Mr. Manco?”
“Well, I’m surprised to find you still on the job, to be honest. It’s after six now.”
“My work is never done, I guess.” I smile out of habit but then drop the pretense when I realize I don’t have to. It’s just the phone. “What can I do for you?”
“Well,” Manco starts, seemingly unsure of whatever it is he’s calling about. “I don’t mean to come off like a prick. Wait,” he corrects. “No, yeah, I do mean it, actually. I do. I’m going to be the prick, Mr. Stonewall. I cannot believe you’re letting Ellie Hatcher go. I’m sick, man. Sick over this. I know business is busines
s and you’re only there to chop the company up and parcel it out—”
“Hey, whoa, whoa, whoa. What are you talking about?”
“Look, I know people, Stonewall. Lots of people. And I already knew your father was selling. But Ellie is like a goddamned Stonewall treasure. You do realize she’s the reason why you get so many exclusive interviews, right?”
“Pearl-button sweater Ellie,” I say, before I can stop myself. What the fuck is wrong with me? “Yes, actually, I can totally see that. She has a way of… of…”
“A way of making you want to show up!” Manco finishes for me. “A way of putting your life in perspective. A way of talking you down off the ledge of self-destruction and making things seem…” He trails off, like he said too much. “Anyway, she told me she’s leaving.”
“She’s not leaving, Mr. Manco. That was a misunderstanding. She got a promotion today.”
“When?”
“This morning.”
“Well”—Manco laughs—“I talked to her before I left your campus and she told me good luck and goodbye.”
“What?”
“So I guess she didn’t get the message. I’m supposed to come back in a month, and I tell you what, if she’s working for a competitor, I’ll be taking my interview to them.”
He hangs up on me.
I just stare at the phone for a few seconds as the dial tone buzzes out from the speaker. I reach over and end the connection. What the hell was that all about?
I wake my computer screen and do a search for Andrew Manco. I know he’s an actor, but that was a while back. Why the hell was he here today?
Ah. A Forbes article dated today comes right up. Former Child Actor Turns Virtual Reality Vacations into Millions of Dollars. Just a few short years ago Andrew Manco was on a downward spiral of self-destruction. Now, he’s the tech world’s newest darling.
