Personal Assistant

by Cara North

  The phone rang, seeing it was him she said, “Jonas Gunner’s assistant, how may I help you?”

  “You’re a mess, Frankie.” He laughed. “Come get me.”

  “Sir?”

  “I want you to come get me,” he said.

  “Where is your car?” she asked because she knew he took a car when he left earlier.

  “Francesca, stop questioning me and come pick me up from Marty’s office. I obviously need the ride or I wouldn’t be calling. I don’t like explaining myself to you,” he said. She couldn’t tell if he was kidding or not.

  Sting. That stung a bit. He was right. It was her job to do as he asked, not ask why. “Yes, sir.”

  “Frankie,” he sighed.

  “I’m leaving now.” She hung up on him before he could say another word.

  Frankie quickly cleaned up the area she had been working in, ushered Ish, who had been sleeping on the floor next to her, out to his ridiculously luxurious dog house, more like a dog apartment, and drove to his agent’s agency.

  “I’m here.” She texted after she pulled to a stop at the front of the building. “Out front. Where should I park?”

  He gave her directions to pull into the parking garage on the fifth floor and he would meet her there.

  She found him leaning against a new car. The space next to it was empty. She pulled in. His old vehicle was parked right next to the car he was leaning on.

  Frankie pulled into the empty space and rolled down the window and asked, “Well? Are you coming or what?”

  “Not in that thing.” He shrugged. “Drive this.”

  His excess sometimes made her feel uncomfortable. As a teacher, even at a college, even at a really good college, she would still only make a fraction of what he made in a day’s worth of his work. He didn’t need another vehicle. He didn’t use more than half the rooms in his house. Ish had a dog house with central heat and air conditioning, an automatic feeder he had been trained to use by pushing a lever if he wanted more, water that came from a water cooler so he had filtered cold water. Frankie lived in an apartment, she didn’t have a balcony, much less a fenced in yard. His dog lived better than she did as a professor, and in that moment it irked her. She had been all kinds of wound up and distracted since morning, and now this.

  “Why don’t you drive it? It is your car after all,” she said as she pulled into the spot. She knew she would end up driving it, and suspected he did this because of her words earlier. He needed her to chauffer him around in something she would be willing to drive but wasn’t too flashy.

  “No it isn’t.” He shrugged. He dangled the keys from his hand as he held them out towards her.

  “Look, I know you trust my driving, but I don’t feel comfortable driving your vehicles, why in the world would you force me to drive someone else’s?” Really, Frankie thought, he could be arrogant in ways she hadn’t predicted.

  “I know.” He jangled the keys again.

  Frankie put her hand to her forehead and rubbed the tension building there. She practically growled as she rolled up the window, grabbed her purse and got out of her car. She snatched the keys from his hand. “I can’t believe you are doing this to me. I don’t understand. I try my best to make sure everything you want is done in a timely manner and you reward me by borrowing…”

  “I didn’t borrow it,” he quipped.

  “What?”

  “I didn’t borrow it.” He crossed his arms and looked at her as if waiting for something to register that she didn’t understand.

  “You rented it? So I could drive you to meet your family for dinner?” It didn’t make any sense.

  “Part of that is true. I do want you to drive me to dinner. I plan to drink as I have something new to celebrate. I didn’t rent the car, I bought it. It’s not mine, Frankie. It’s yours.” He walked past her and around the front of the vehicle as she stood shell-shocked.

  He put his hands on the hood and tapped out a little drum rhythm. “You gonna let me in or just stand there?”

  “I can’t take this.” She turned to him. Tears began to sting her eyes. No one had ever given her something that cost more than a hundred bucks, and those gifts had come from her parents in the form of gift cards at Christmas. She had bought her first car, a clunker, with money she earned working at the bookstore. She bought the car she had now, a certified used vehicle, with part of the money she made working and part of the money she got from student loans. She could have spent her salary, something that she considered decent money until stepping into this world, on a new car, but it would be wasteful since she didn’t need it. “You can’t give me something like this. I can’t repay it, I don’t...”

  “Shit, Frankie. I didn’t think you would get upset. I thought you would be excited.” He moved back around the car to stand in front of her. He put his hands on her shoulders and turned her towards him. He let out a strangled laugh and said, “Consider it more for me than you. I don’t like your car. I hate it. I…”

  “Are you just saying that?” She looked up at him. Somewhere inside her hurt to think what she had wasn’t good enough. Not just her car. It was simply one of many things they saw differently.

  “Frankie, I just want you to take the gift. Be happy about it. Come with me to dinner and…”

  “Come with you?” she asked. She took a step back. He didn’t mention her coming to dinner with him.

  “Yeah.” He frowned. “Why? Did you have other plans?”

  She was sure the expression on her face was an ugly one. She was befuddled, her brain not thinking clear. Too much processing too fast. She tried a couple of times to start to say something, then stopped.

  Finally he shook his head and said, “That’s what I thought. Come on, open the doors, drive me to dinner, and if you still hate the car tomorrow I will park it in the garage and you can donate it to charity or something.”

  “Me?” she gasped.

  “It’s your car, Frankie. I put it in your name.” He walked around the front of the car and mumbled something that sounded a lot like, “Impossible to please this woman.”

  A bit stunned, Frankie pressed the unlock button on the smooth “key”. The car had an automatic start button, every bell and whistle, including features she didn’t know existed. She would need to spend a lot of time learning the vehicle. She didn’t mind the plush seats, the way the steering wheel felt against her palms. The smooth surface was far from the hard ring she was used to spinning.

  They drove the entire way to the restaurant in silence, except for the navigation system’s directions. He had been deflated by her rejection and she had been overwhelmed by his generosity. She finally broke the silence and asked, “Should I come back to get you?”

  “You too good to eat dinner with my family now?” he grumbled.

  “No.” She hung her head low. “I didn’t think you still wanted me to.”

  “I always want you, Frankie. That seems to be my problem these days.” He slid a finger along her thigh up until he could feel the material connecting the thigh highs to the garter belt. He pulled it and let it pop against her thigh. “I want something I obviously can’t have.”

  He left her stunned, sitting in the car a moment. He arrived at her door, opened it and said, “Well?”

  She lost her footing getting out of the car. She stumbled, grabbed his arm for support and he held on until she was steady. “I’m sorry.”

  “Everyone stumbles.” He let go of her arm and they walked into the nice, quiet, Italian restaurant.

  She followed behind him as he navigated his way to a secluded section where his sister, brother-in-law, and nephew waited for him. Frankie would have loved to feel comfortable in the environment, but as she sat down she realized her and the toddler were the only two non-actors at the table.

  “You will never guess what happened today.” Janice, his sister said as she greeted him by standing and giving him a hug and kiss on the cheek.

  “What?” he asked as he pulled out
the chair for Frankie to take a seat next to him. His nephew ran around the table to climb into his arms.

  “They want little man here to be in a commercial with his dad.” She laughed, smiled her famous smile. They shared a few key attributes, gorgeous eyes, gorgeous lips, and gorgeous hair. “It’s a parenting initiative for that charity we donated to last year. Isn’t that great?”

  Frankie held the smile on her face perfectly in place. Even though she was the only non-actor at the table, she was pretty sure she was the only one acting at the moment. They were being a family. She was…trying to be a good assistant? She wasn’t sure anymore. Getting pulled into his world, into his family like this was not part of the deal. She was supposed to wait, come back, or sit nearby. She was the help, not his date.

  “Fane-kie.” The toddler pointed.

  “Yes, little man that is Frankie.” His dad answered.

  “Fane-kie.” He said again leaving out the r sound.

  “He’s still working on r’s Frankie, forgive him.” Janice, his sister, said. This was the first time she had met Janice in person, though they had spoken several times on the phone. She was a bit surprised the toddler had heard her name enough to try to say it, much less know it was her.

  How could she do anything less than smile at the little bugger. He had his mother’s eyes, and his daddy’s personality. The toddler was a sweetheart, just like Buddy. He made her feel at ease.

  Buddy was much easier to be around than the Gunners. After all, he didn’t grow up with the fame and fortune. He had become an actor late in his teens and worked odd roles before landing smaller parts and eventually co-starring roles. One of those had him co-starring with his brother-in-law, most likely how he wound up with Jonas’s sister.

  Frankie sat quietly, almost invisible, except for the few questions Buddy would toss her way now and then as if to remind everyone she was there. Dinner had been placed before them, Jonas had shared his big news about the contract and how thrilled the studio was he had chosen the trilogy. Frankie looked at the salads they had all ordered and then at her plate of fettuccini Alfredo. Only the baby had ordered pasta. They were in one of the most amazing little restaurants ever. It seemed again, like a waste, but this time not a waste of money, it was a waste of experience. Even the waiter looked offended by the triple dose of lettuce.

  Janice looked at the plate and said, “I hate award season. I would love to order something more, but I have to stay this exact size in order to fit into the dresses. They tailor those things so much I am always afraid of gaining a pound. And right now…”

  Frankie knew she stopped because it was not public knowledge that she was pregnant. Frankie was not family and Buddy had not likely confessed he told her and Jonas at the same time.

  “Just wear a dress from the closet. I’m only eating this salad because I went by that restaurant again today and got a burger and fries at lunch.” Buddy admitted with a guilty smile. “I took the motorcycle, Frankie, don’t worry I won’t out the place as a new hotspot.”

  His sister looked at her husband and then to Frankie and Frankie could feel the uneasy moment, but wasn’t sure what to do about it.

  Buddy put his hand on his wife’s back and continued, “I’m not up for any awards, not hosting, presenting, or worrying about which designer is going to come fit me into a tux I have to return, or worse, buy to hang in the closet next to another tux that, if you ask me, looks exactly the same. I have a few that fit just fine. I can have one tailored if I need to a few days before, and that is what I do to escort my lovely wife to these events. I get it,” he said pointing from his wife to his brother-in-law, “but I don’t agree with it. I think it’s a shame to have an opportunity like this and not be able to enjoy it. Had I known we were coming here tonight, I…you know what…” He put his hand in the air to motion for the waiter.

  “You never told me you felt that way,” Janice said sincerely.

  “You had a burger?” Jonas asked.

  “Sweetheart, you gotta do what you think is best for you, but I would rather you buy a dress that you love the week before and feel comfortable in it than to have you avoid food you love for the chance of getting on a best dressed list. You’re always the best dressed on my list.” Buddy smiled. The waiter arrived. “I want the special.”

  The waiter looked so relieved someone else had come to their senses.

  Janice leaned in and gave him a sweet smooch on the lips. “Thanks, honey.”

  “Tell me it wasn’t the best burger you ever ate.” Jonas stated.

  “So good. I mean I would have ordered it that day, but I had already…” Buddy looked at Frankie, back to Jonas. “I had already… had red meat that morning.”

  “When was this?” Janice asked.

  “You know,” Buddy shrugged. “That day I left to meet Jonas for lunch.”

  “Yeah.” Janice turned to look at her brother. “What was with that? I mean out of nowhere Buddy tells me he had to meet you for lunch. We just ate lunch. But he insisted on going. Said you needed some guy time. I can barely get any time with you anymore. Is everything all right?”

  That’s what sister’s did. They punched holes in the stories their brother’s told. Frankie wasn’t sure if she should be flattered or furious. Did he make last minute plans to test her skills or to keep her around longer? It was her first day on the job and he may have just been hazing her, or maybe he was thinking about getting her undressed well before the night’s events had taken over. His enigmatic expression revealed nothing.

  Frankie focused on the noodles, the creamy white sauce, the garlic buttered bread, this plate of pasta wouldn’t solve her problem right now, but it sure was a nice distraction. “This pasta is delicious.”

  All eyes went to the pasta.

  “Fane-kie, tie mine.” His nephew held up a fork full of sloppy spaghetti noodles with red sauce dripping down his hand onto his arm.

  “For me?” Frankie lit up at his expression. He passed the fork to his dad who in turn passed it to Frankie. She transferred the noodles to her spoon and passed the fork back to him. “Thank you!”

  Under his breath Jonas mumbled, “Maybe I should have bought you some noodles.”

  “What’s that?” Janice asked her brother.

  “These are delicious, too.” Frankie tried to cut off the questioning, but it was no use.

  “I didn’t say anything.” Jonas denied it, stabbed a tomato and ate it.

  “Uh, yes you did. I heard you mumble something. Why are you being so weird?” Janice frowned at him. She looked at Frankie, and then frowned at her. As the person who was responsible for telling Janice no on more than one occasion when she had invited her little brother to dinner, Frankie suspected she was the object of her disapproval.

  Time clicked by painfully slow as dinner was eaten in virtual silence.

  The tension in the room was thick enough no one ordered desert, except for Buddy Junior. He wanted some ice cream and the owner insisted the child have what he wanted. After all, the family’s appearance there tonight would bring more business later.

  Janice must have had enough of Jonas’s melancholy mood, and what must have looked like agitation, but was really his attempts to aggravate Frankie with his feet under the table. She said, “Frankie, I hate to ask you this, but can I get a moment alone with my family?”

  “Sure.” Frankie said at the same time Jonas said, “No.”

  “Jonas.” Janice said in shock.

  “She stays,” he insisted.

  “I, um…I was going to go to the ladies before we left anyways so…”

  Jonas looked at her with an ‘if you leave I will be pissed’ glare. She didn’t want to see that face on a poster for damn sure.

  “Let her go to the loo.” Buddy laughed.

  Janice looked at her husband with a scolding glare and he bit his lips to stop laughing.

  “Geeze Jonas you are so rude to your assistant,” Janice said.

  Buddy shook his head as thou
gh he knew something no one else at the table besides him, and maybe Buddy Junior, knew.

  Frankie pushed away from the table and awkwardly left the area. She had consumed almost a pitcher of water, she needed to go.

  After washing her hands and checking the phone tucked neatly in a pocket at her hip she wet a paper towel in the sink. She pressed the towel to the back of her neck and looked for feet under the two stalls. Realizing she was alone she said aloud to the reflection in the mirror, “Get it together, Frankie. You gotta keep it together. There is nothing going on here. You have a job, a damn good paying job, and you are not going to blow it, not for at least six months. You will stop these shenanigans. Apparently kissing was a useless defense. He is not an ordinary man damn it. Stop getting things confused. So what if he buys you a car, it’s like buying a Hallmark card. Just to say thank you.”

  She tossed the paper towel in the trash, wet her hands again to straighten a few wayward wisps of her hair, took several deep breaths, and walked out of the door and straight into Jonas’s chest. “What’s taking you so long?”

  “I didn’t know I was on a timer.” She took a step back and then tried to walk around him.

  “Is anyone in there?” he asked as his arm came out to block her path through the narrow doorframe leading from the bathrooms to the hall that led to the restaurant.

  “No,” she said. “Is the men’s room full or something?”

  They were practically the only people in the restaurant, the door said they were closed today, but Frankie suspected the Gunner Family had arranged to eat there anyways.

  He stepped her backwards as he opened the door. He used his foot to pull the one chair in the small room over to block the door. His face came close to hers, dangerously close to her lips before turning her quickly to face away from him.

  “Grab the counter,” he commanded. Against her better judgment, she obeyed. “You wore this to make me crazy didn’t you?”

  “No,” she lied. She looked at his expression as he lifted her skirt above her hips. His fingers slid along her skin and she was unable to protest. She had thought about him all day, had been distracted more often than not. It was why she was so moody. Too much sexual tension and too much work to do. She should have just taken time to stop and masturbate, but she didn’t. Look where it got her, bent over a bathroom counter at a fancy restaurant.