by Kelli Walker
“Got it,” she said. “Username, password, read the document about expectations, look through emails, schedule us a place to stay in Switzerland, save the world, make sure to use the restroom.”
“And speaking of, if you’ll look to your right, you’ll see the facilities,” I said as I held out my arm.
She threw her head back and laughed. A sound that pulled a smile across my cheeks.
“This is going to be one heck of a job, isn’t it?” Tiffany asked.
Her eyes turned back up to mine and sparkled with excitement.
“Yes,” I said. “It’ll be one hell of a job.”
Tiffany
I sat at my desk for the first time and smoothed my hands over the cool wood. It was a beautiful thing, but I had a lot to accomplish on my first day. I turned on my computer to set everything up and the first thing I did was read the document my boss had left for me. I opened it up and watched the screen come alive, anxiously awaiting his list of expectations for me.
What I didn’t expect was to see three pages of it.
“Well,” I said breathlessly. “Better get to work.”
Three pages of expectations. Everything from the time I was supposed to report to work all the way down to requisitions for shit in his office. Cool. Got it. But three pages of expectations? It was a little much.
I decided to highlight what was really important and tackle the rest after my first business trip.
I couldn't believe I was already set up for going on a business trip. I downloaded the itinerary my boss had already shot to my work email and began looking up the closest and best hotels that could accommodate us on such short notice. What I found, however, was that the second I dropped Mr. Weber’s name, people scrambled to accommodate him. It wasn’t a matter of whether or not anything was available. It was a matter of making sure they booked my boss in their hotel.
Which meant we had our choice of fabulous places.
After booking our living arrangements for Switzerland, my eyes meandered up from my desk. The top floor of the building was a lot quieter than I imagined it would be. I figured men in business suits and women in pencil skirts would’ve been clicking along and tossing things at me left and right. ‘File this’ and ‘get me that’ and ‘oh, make sure to put this on my calendar’. But it wasn’t like that at all. Less than half the offices built for the floor were occupied, and if I dropped my pen I was sure half the damn city could’ve heard it.
My eyes glanced into Mr. Weber’s office and I caught sight of him. And my, how he wore a suit. Bespoke. Tailored. Fit specifically to his beautiful measurements. His broad shoulders pulled tightly against the fabric of his suit coat and the tailored legs of his pants accented how long they really were. He was much taller than he looked on television or in the pictures of the textbooks I’d used during school.
He had on a light tan suit with a pale blue shirt underneath that accented the richness of his eyes. Deep aquamarine that sparkled with the shitty overhead lights of the corporate floor. His dark brown hair cascaded down the crown of his head, and my fingers tingled at the mere thought of being able to touch it. The gel shone against his hair, not allowing a single strand out of place. Even as he bent over his desk and worked on old-fashioned paperwork, his dexterous fingers tugged at my attention.
“Getting a lay of the land?”
I jumped at Paige’s voice and my face instantly began to flush.
“What in the world are you doing up here?” I asked.
“It’s my lunch break. Yours, too. Wanna go grab a bite?”
“It’s already lunch time?” I asked.
“Girl. It’s twelve thirty. Where have you been all morning?”
“At this desk, apparently. Yes. I would love lunch. Or at least something to wake me up.”
“Not a morning person?”
Not a ‘Kenneth in a tailored suit’ person.
“Not really,” I said.
“Come on. The coffee on my floor’s not that bad actually.”
“Well the lounge up here isn’t really used. We could brew a fresh cup up here and sit on very comfortable couches.”
“Sign me up,” Paige said with a grin.
I stood up from my desk and watched as Kenneth whipped his head up. Was he watching me from the corner of his eye? I pointed to my wrist, signaling for him to look at the time, and he glanced at his computer. With a wave of his hand, he dismissed me. Without looking up or questioning what I was doing or wondering when I was going to be back.
Did I have an hour? Thirty minutes? A pee break?
“Come on,” Paige said. “I’ll have you back in an hour.”
The two of us walked out of the building, arm in arm as we headed across the street. There was a diner with quick service and the sign boasted that someone could get in and out in under an hour. The perfect spot for corporate secretaries like ourselves.
“So! Tell me all about your first day.”
“Apparently, I’m heading to Switzerland on Monday,” I said.
“No. He’s already roped you in on a business trip!? Lucky. I love Switzerland.”
“You’ve been there?” I asked.
“Oh yeah. Three times. Mom loves it there. Where are you heading?”
“Zurich.”
“I’m so jealous. It’s so beautiful there. Will you get any free time?” she asked.
“I honestly have no idea. I only glanced at the itinerary to figure out how long we were staying so I could book accommodations.”
“Well, if you do have some free time, there are two things you need to do for me. You have to walk through Altstadt-- that means Old Town-- and go eat at Le Dezaley. They have the best cheese fondue-- or any fondue, really-- in the entire city as far as I’m concerned. And there’s tons of shopping and walking around to do in Old Town. Promise me you’ll do those things.”
“I’ll do them and take pictures,” I said with a grin.
“My first day wasn’t nearly as epic as yours,” she said. “Though my boss did give me a surprise.”
“A surprise?”
“Yeah. He negotiated for me to get paid five thousand dollars more than I was originally offered. Said he wanted it to justify the few weekends I would probably have to work from time to time.”
“Why would an H.R. secretary have to work weekends?” I asked.
“Several reasons. Most of them are P.R. related, but it happens from time to time. H.R. has to be in session whenever Public Relations is fielding a potential crisis, so the boost in pay was to try and circumvent possible overtime charges. But I’ll take whatever I can get.”
“That’s exciting,” I said. “Congratulations.”
“I’m worried about leaving my mother to go on this business trip so soon with the company.”
“Why? She sick or something?”
“Bad back. Remember?”
“Not gonna lie, there’s not much I remember from our afternoon of drinking,” Paige said with a giggle.
I shook my head as the waitress set two cups of coffee down in front of us.
“Wait, how did you know?” I asked.
“Saw you two girls come running across the street from Casual Recreations. Figured you could use a pick-me-up,” the waitress said. “You two ready to order?”
“Yes. I’ll have the double cheeseburger with everything and extra crispy fries. What do you want, Tiff?”
“Is your tomato basil soup good?” I asked.
“The best,” the waitress said with a smile.
“Then I’ll have a bowl of that and your five-cheese grilled cheese.”
“Comin’ right up, girls.”
“That sounds good,” Paige said. “I’ll have to try that the next time I’m here.”
“But yeah. I’m worried about leaving my mother with her bad back. Most days she’s fine. But if she takes a spill or something, she can’t always get herself back up.”
“Well if you want me to, you can give me her address and I’ll che
ck in on her. Or at least call her up.”
“Wait really? You would do that?” I asked.
“Sure. I mean, we gotta help each other out, right? I get the mom worries. I’ll check on your mom, and when I don’t want to deal with my mom you can check in on her.”
I threw my head back and laughed, enjoying the time I was spending with my colleague. She was a breath of fresh air and the first person in a very long time I could see myself being friends with. We talked about our days over lunch before we got our coffees to-go, and I was back at my desk a few minutes before one thirty. And of course, as if there was a censor on my seat, the second I sat down the phone rang.
“Mr. Weber’s office, this is Tiffany speaking. How may I direct your call?”
“Finally! That man got himself a secretary.”
“I’m sorry. With whom am I speaking?” I asked.
“Roman Edwards, sweet cheeks. Can you patch me through to Ken?”
I froze as my eyes whipped up to his office. My boss wasn’t there and my hand was trembling against the receiver. It became hard to breathe and I could feel sweat beading on the back of my neck. I pulled up a document and readied myself to type out a message to give to my boss.
A message that would require me to do a serious amount of digging.
“I’m-... I’m sorry, but uh, Mr. Weber’s still at lunch. Can I take a, uh… a message for you?” I asked.
“You sound cute when you stutter, Miss…?”
“Graves,” I said. “Tiffany Graves.”
“Anyway, just tell the man I called. No biggie. Wanted to see how his new hires were going. But it sounds like the one he kept for himself is going well.”
“I’ll let him know,” I said.
“Actually, do relay him a quick message. Verbatim?”
“I’m at the ready.”
“Tell him ‘enjoy the perks of being a CEO’.”
I typed the phrase up as I set the phone against my shoulder.
“I have it ready for him. He’ll have it once he gets back in for lunch,” I said.
“Perfect, doll. Talk to you soon.”
I couldn’t hang up the phone fast enough.
I set the note aside and immediately pulled up my search engine. I typed in every version of ‘Roman Edwards and Kenneth Weber’ I could come up with. And after a little bit of digging, I found what I was looking for. Pictures of the two of them shaking hands. Smiling with one another. Out and about on the town. I scrolled through tabloid articles of their ‘bromance’ and pictures of them vacationing with beautifully-thin women on the shores of some exotic island. Looking at the pictures made me sick.
Until I found the one I was looking for.
I kept trying to tell myself that maybe it was a coincidence. Maybe the two of them knew one another simply because they were business owners. But there was a picture from a few years back of the two of them standing outside of that damn business.
Instatech.
My head was so hot it could’ve burst into flames at my damn desk. Roman Edwards was the man who fucking owned Instatech. The company that fired my father over false sexual harassment allegations. Fired him without a fucking investigation or anything. Stripped him of his pension. His measly 401(k) he was offered. Any insurance benefits that could’ve come from retiring from a company like that. And a lack of a formal investigation to prove my father’s innocence made him unhirable. Anywhere. Roman Edwards destroyed my father’s life over allegations that weren’t even true, and my father drank himself until he died because of it.
And my boss was his best fuckig pal.
I clicked the article that showcased the two of them standing outside of that decrepit business. I wanted to know what the fuck it was about. My eyes scanned the article, my hand gripping the house as tightly as I could.
Then, I read across it.
The one line that made me want to flip my desk and march out of this office for good.
‘Webwards’ bromance continues as an anonymous source claims that Mr. Weber, pictured right, is taking on the reconstruction and revitalizing of Mr. Edward’s, pictured left, company ‘Instatech’. It is said Mr. Weber will be spending the next year flipping his best friend’s company. The question is, how much of a profit will he take off the top?
I scrolled back up to the top of the article, looking for any last redeeming quality. But the year the article was published was one that was forever emblazoned into my memory.
The year my father was fired.
The year my father died.
Kenneth Weber was the de-facto CEO of Instatech the year everything happened with my father.
Was this what my mother meant? Was this the warning she was trying to give me? Did she know Mr. Weber was in charge of the company at the same fucking time my father was fired? Why wouldn’t she tell me this? Why would she simply warn me to keep my wits about me? I couldn't see straight I was so angry. Tears were brewing in my eyes. My boss was responsible for not allowing my father the investigation he deserved.
My hand shook so violently I couldn’t steady my mouse long enough to close the screen out.
I reached for the computer monitor and turned it off. I shot up from my chair and walked straight for the bathroom. I had to clean myself up. I had to calm myself down. I had to walk into Mr. Weber’s office and tell him I could no longer accept his position. That I could no longer work for a man who had such disregard for his employees.
I splashed some water in my face and reached for a soft towel sitting in the corner.
I took a deep breath, trying my best to stomach my anger. I needed to think straight. My job was on the line. The future of my career was on the line. If Mr. Weber was going to position himself as a powerful force in this industry, then it served me well to get to know him. To befriend him. To at least be able to peacefully coexist with him.
I looked at myself in the mirror as I blotted the rest of the water off my skin.
Walking away from this job wasn’t plausible. My mother needed the insurance and I needed the money to save. It was a wonderful opportunity, and my father would be upset at me for squandering it over my own emotions. But some things were greater than a job. Than a paycheck. Than a savings. Mr. Weber needed to know that his sins didn’t disappear simply because he was rich. Because he was well-connected. He needed to know there were consequences to his actions. Judging from the lack of articles on his flipping of Instatech, it was obviously something he kept under wraps for whatever reason. Something he didn’t want the media latching onto and praising him for. There were dozens of articles on every other business his ‘golden fingers’ touched.
But there was only one local article on Instatech.
I could use that reason to get the answers I wanted. The answers I’d needed for years.
I deserved answers about what happened to my father, and so did my mom. She watched my father drink himself into oblivion and leave us behind over what Instatech had done to him. She was the one who held his body in her arms as he slowly slipped away from us. She was the one that had to pick up every morning and carry on without her husband at her side. She was the one dealing with the after-effects of what Instatech had done to our family.
Over what Mr. Weber had done to our family.
And if my boss didn’t want to give those answers to me, then I had no problem showing the business world the kind of man he really was. I had no issues with exposing whatever reason there was for him wanting to keep his flipping of Instatech under wraps. I had no issues going to whatever lengths I needed to go to in order to look him in the eye and make myself the face of the destruction he left in his wake.
I would get my mother the answers she deserved.
But first, I needed to figure out why he didn’t want the media knowing he was helping out Roman Edward’s business.
Kenneth
I watched as Tiffany slept in her seat. Anything at four in the morning was early, but I’d gotten used to running this type of schedule.
Business slept for no man, and if I wasn’t willing to do important shit before the sun rose, then there was always another man willing to do it. I typed away at my laptop and held some papers in my hand, trying to get myself set up for the week-long stint of meetings and re-negotiating contracts.
But it was hard keeping my eyes off my new secretary.
Her long, curvy legs were crossed at the knee as her head rested against the window. Tiffany’s flowing black hair poured around her shoulders and fell into her face. Her little button nose twitched whenever a stray piece of it would flutter around in her face, courtesy of the cabin’s air conditioning system above her head. She’d shake her head and that thick mane of hair would flutter, and the light coat she had on would shift. It fell over her shoulders, giving me the perfect glance at how her tight ass tops curved around her luscious breasts.
I ripped my gaze from her and looked down at the bag sitting at her feet. Besides that, she had her purse. An odd thing for a woman going away for a week. She packed light. Meaning she wasn’t high maintenance. Not like most of the women I knew, who had a suitcase for just the shoes they wanted to bring on trips like this.
I liked that. Her not needing so much shit.
I sipped on a mug of coffee and listened as she stirred. Her yawn was large and her sighs were soft. It made it harder to concentrate on the work in front of me. I peeked over at her and watched her stretch. Watched her back bow and her chest jut out and her arms reach up to the sky.
Her shirt came untucked from her jeans and I got the slightest peek of her soft skin.
“What time is it?” Tiffany asked.
“Nine in the morning our time,” I said.
“And here I was hoping I’d slept the flight away.”
“We’ll fly the day away because of all the time zone hops. We’ll land at one in the afternoon our time, but it’ll be seven in the evening in Zurich.”
