“Why the he…heck not?” I question.
“You’ve had a lot of assistants in the past year alone,” she points out. “I’m wary about that. I’m not perfect, so if you expect that, I’m not the person for this job.”
Folding my hands together on the desk, I lean forward. “I don’t expect you to be perfect, Maren. I expect you to be honest, loyal, and do the job to the best of your ability.”
Her gaze drops to her lap.
I push on because I want this woman to work for me. That unexplainable pull I feel for her is there again, and it’s stronger than it was yesterday.
“I fired Jamie because she lost Dud, but there’s more to that story.” I exhale sharply. “She was on her tenth or eleventh warning before she volunteered to take over caring for Dudley.”
That draws Maren’s chin up, so she’s looking at me. “That’s a lot of warnings.”
“Jamie pushed the boundaries from day one.” I exhale, still frustrated with my former assistant. “She’d waltz into the office an hour late. She’d forget to give me messages. She’s called in sick three times this month.”
“She wasn’t sick?”
“I’d say no based on the fact that she used that time to go on shopping sprees.” I laugh under my breath. “She’d post non-stop on Instagram, tagging her fellow employees to show them what she was buying.”
“Wow.” Maren smiles. “That’s bold.”
“That’s one word for it.” I squint. “After I called her out on that and told her that her time here was done, she promised to clean up her act. She offered to take Dudley home to care for him. I thought we had turned a corner.”
“Then she lost him,” Maren says.
“And she took a forty-five minute break after showing up for work thirty minutes late yesterday.” Chuckling, I shake my head. “She gave me hell when I fired her, but it was time for her to go.”
Chapter 6
Maren
“Three hundred,” I say quietly. “You said hell.”
Keats laughs. “I have to think before I open my mouth around you. If I don’t, I’m going to end up broke.”
The anxiety I felt when I stepped off the elevator is slipping away, but it’s still lingering.
“Every other person I’ve fired was for just cause,” Keats says as though he’s reading my mind. “They all left with a severance package that was more than fair.”
I don’t expect him to go into details. I’m surprised he was so candid about Jamie’s dismissal.
I don’t see this job as the end game of my career, but I want it to last at least until I can find something suitable in public relations.
“Can I ask you a question, Maren?”
I glance across the desk at him. “Sure.”
“How the heck did you wind up here with Dudley yesterday?”
I point at the phone in my hand. “After I found him, I snapped a picture and posted it on a Facebook group for lost dogs in Manhattan.”
Leaning back in his chair, he narrows his eyes. “Who responded?”
Who didn’t?
I fight the urge to say that because I’m not a saint either. I’m going to work for the man, not be in charge of his social calendar. Who he sleeps with isn’t my business.
I choose my next words carefully. “The post was shared more than fifty times. I received messages from a few of your friends.”
“A few of my friends?” he repeats my words with a furrowed brow. “Like who?”
Does he expect me to rattle off the names of all the women who responded to my posting about Dudley?
I pat my hand against my thigh. “I can’t recall their names, but I’m glad they got in touch. I was worried that since Dudley wasn’t wearing a collar, I wouldn’t find his owner.”
“Sinclair would have given me supreme shit if I lost her dog.”
“That’s another hundred,” I tell him before I ask for clarification. “Sinclair is your sister?”
Tilting his head, he smiles. “Another hundred added to the fund, and yes, Sinclair is my globe-trotting sister.”
That begs the question of whether he has another sister, but his family situation has no bearing on my job, so I skip past that and mention mine. “My cousin is a vet. I dropped in to visit him at work one day. I had to wait to see him because he was implanting a microchip into a dog.”
“What the hell is that?”
“That’s five hundred total since I sat down.” I smile. “The chip contains all the owner’s information so that any animal shelter or vet can use a special reader to access that information if a lost pet is brought in.”
“Holy...he…helpful device,” Keats stutters out. “Dud needs one of those.”
“I can arrange for that,” I offer before I realize the words have left my mouth. “If you want, that is. Or if your sister is alright with it.”
“Sinclair will love it,” he says matter-of-factly. “I’d appreciate it if you set that up.”
Nodding, I make a note in my phone to call Donovan. “I’ll get in touch with my cousin and move forward with it.”
“Are you ready to move forward with the job?”
My head darts up until my eyes lock on Keats’s face. “I think so.”
“Once you sign the contract, you’ll officially be my assistant.” He points at the envelope in my lap. “Can you start on Monday?”
Since today is Friday that gives me the weekend to ready myself for what I’m sure will be the most interesting job I’ve ever had.
“I’ll start on Monday.”
“Let’s head over to Everett’s office.” Keats pushes back to stand. “He’s the head of our HR department. He’ll get you set up for payroll and everything else you need.”
I need to know that I’m making the right decision, but I sense only time will tell me that.
As I glide to my feet, Keats moves to stand next to me. “I’m looking forward to working with you, Maren.”
All I offer back is a smile because something tells me that being his assistant will have more twists and turns than a roller coaster ride.
Chapter 7
Keats
I swing open the door of my townhouse to find my favorite person in the world. Next to her is my brother.
“Stevie!” I hold out my arms, waiting for my niece to make the jump into them.
She doesn’t let me down. She may be getting taller by the month, but our method of greeting one another hasn’t changed since she learned how to walk.
I’m aware that there may well be a day that she won’t want to hug me, so I take advantage of it now while it’s still happening.
“How was Boston?” I look over her head at my brother, Berk.
“Fine.” He rubs at the scruff that covers his jaw.
Fine means it was fucked up. I know his code words by now. He’s taken on the role of sole parent to Stevie since his wife, Layna, passed away.
My older brother has always been my superhero. In the time since he lost his wife, he’s proven that he owns that title. I’ve never met a stronger man than him.
“Grandma and Grandpa were sad,” Stevie clues me in with a sigh. “They were showing me a photo album. It had pictures of mom when she was in high school.”
Layna’s parents are still holding tightly to their grief. I’m not a dad, so I have no understanding of the kind of pain that comes with mourning a child, but I know loss. I loved Layna like a sister, and her death hit me as hard as a punch in the gut.
It knocked Berk flat on his ass for months, but he’s moved forward. He took a leave of absence from his publishing company, Morgan Press, for half a year to focus on Stevie. Now, he splits his time between work and his daughter.
“Where is Duds?” Stevie cranes her neck to look around me.
I move aside to let them in before I close the door. “He’s staying with my new assistant.”
“Jamie has been your assistant for months, Keats.” Berk points out as he slaps my shoulder. “Unles
s you fired her.”
Stevie trains her blue eyes on me. “Did you, Keats?”
I’ve never carried the Uncle moniker with her. I’ve always been Keats. It suits me just fine.
Berk drags a hand through his dark brown hair. “Did you?”
It’s not as though either of them held Jamie in the highest regard. They met her a couple of times when she stopped by here to have dinner with us.
“She lost Dudley,” I state with a cross of my arms over my chest. “My new assistant found him and tracked me down.”
“Thank goodness.” Stevie twists her head, so her ponytail bounces. “What is your new assistant’s name and number? I want to set up visitation.”
Berk huffs out a laugh as he rests a bicep against the wall. “You know that Sully gets riled up when she smells Dudley on you.”
Sully.
I’m as allergic to that cat as I am to Dudley. Layna and Stevie cornered Berk five years ago when they brought home a kitten with an attitude. Since then, Sully has become part of their family. She’s the reason that Dudley can’t live with them. Sully won’t make nice with dogs.
“I’ll take a bath after I see him.” Stevie shoves a hand into the back pocket of her pink pants. “I brought you something from Boston, Keats.”
I know what it is, so I hold out my open palm. “I’ve been practicing.”
“I’m still the champion,” Stevie declares as she slaps a package of blue bubble gum into my hand. “You’ll never beat me in the bubble-blowing race.”
She’s right, but I’ll try again and again because I know she gets a kick out of it.Our tradition of her bringing me a package of this particular brand of gum started the day after her mom’s funeral. I took Stevie to a convenience store a block from her grandparents’ house after the service because Berk needed time. He had to tell Layna’s parents that he wouldn’t uproot his daughter’s life and leave Manhattan behind.
I knew that the conversation would be an emotional one, so I took Stevie for a walk. By the time we got back with blue lips and tongues, the drama was over. Berk agreed to give Layna’s parents all the access to their granddaughter they wanted.
Their weekly visits to Manhattan gradually shifted into Berk making monthly trips to Boston with his daughter. They left Thursday night, so I’m surprised to see them back here less than forty-eight hours later.
“I thought I’d have an extra day to practice,” I say, closing my fist around the package of gum. “It’s Saturday. Weren’t you scheduled to be back tomorrow?”
“It’s my bestie’s birthday tomorrow.” Stevie bounces in her sneakers. “I’m going to surprise her in the morning with balloons and brunch.”
“Kids your age know about brunch?” I question with a lift of my brow.
She gives me the once-over. “Men your age wear ripped jeans? Is that my dad’s T-shirt?”
I glance down at the World’s Greatest Dad shirt I’m wearing.
An ex gave me this shirt on April’s Fool Day as a joke. I fell for it hook, line and sinker because I thought it was her way of telling me she was pregnant. She wasn’t. I should have tossed the shirt out, but I kept it. Since today is laundry day, I dug through my closet to find whatever was clean.
I glance at Berk to explain the shirt to his daughter because I don’t know what the hell to say.
“He’s practicing for when he finally gets married and has a baby.” Berk smiles. “Keats thinks he’ll be the world’s greatest dad.”
Stevie lets out a full laugh. “No way. My dad is the best. You might be the second best, but who knows?”
I point toward the kitchen. “I ordered pasta from Calvetti’s for dinner. It was delivered ten minutes ago. Lucky for you, there’s enough for all of us.”
“Spaghetti, here I come,” Stevie yells as she takes off across the hardwood floors.
“You were expecting someone else, weren’t you?” Berk adjusts the collar of the black button-down shirt he’s wearing. “Stevie wanted to stop by, but we can take off.”
Since they only live three blocks from here, I’m used to their unannounced visits. I welcome them so much that I gave my brother a key to this place. He never uses it. He always rings the doorbell.
“It’s just me for the night.” I sigh.
“Are you recovering from last night?” he asks with a smirk.
“I ate a sandwich on the couch last night while I watched a full season of that teenage drama I’m not supposed to let Stevie watch.”
Berk bites back a laugh. “You bastard. I knew you were the one letting her watch that.”
“You swore,” I point out, tapping him on his shoulder.
He ignores my comment. “Why did you order so much food, Keats?”
“Have you tasted the food at Calvetti’s?” I arch a brow. “It’s the best Italian food in the city. You try eating one serving.”
I leave it at that. My brother doesn’t need to know that I was going to cart the extra over to his place and put it in his fridge so he wouldn’t have to think about what to feed his daughter once he got back from Boston.
“I want to hear more about your new assistant.” Berk pats me on the back. “Dish up some food and give me all the details.”
I follow behind as he makes his way to the kitchen. The only detail that matters is that I haven’t stopped thinking about Maren since she left my office yesterday, and I’m counting the hours until I see her again.
Chapter 8
Maren
I haven’t had to face many first days on the job because I’ve only worked at a handful of places in my life.
My first job was at a fast-food restaurant on the Lower East Side. I worked there for two years while I was in high school. I went to a private school, and while most of my friends were partying hard on their parents’ dime, I was earning money to go toward my college fund.
The deal I had with my parents was simple. If I contributed to my education, they’d support me by covering my tuition at the school of my choice.
I intended to go to Yale or Harvard, but my grades didn’t get on board for that, so I went to NYU. I stayed at home instead of moving on campus. It was one of the best decisions of my life.
I interned at a recording studio during summer breaks in college. After I graduated, I worked at two different companies before I landed an entry-level job at Knott Public Relations. I worked my way up to Communications Specialist. My end goal was the position of Director of Communications.
Royce, my boss, took a leave of absence. He was the only person I reported to. When he left, his brother Christian stepped in to fill his shoes.
Christian may have co-owned the firm, but he rarely showed up to the office before Royce temporarily walked away.
We clashed almost immediately. I tried to respect the challenges Christian faced taking over control of the company, but when I noticed him making decisions that ultimately cost us clients, I spoke up.
I was fired with no notice, and a month’s worth of pay.
Now, here I am a few days later with a job that pays me twice what I was making at Knott. According, to my employment contract, the position of assistant to Keats Morgan is straightforward. I’m overqualified, but that’s not going to stop me from doing my best.
I’m counting on a stellar recommendation from Keats when I find another job in my field.
In the meantime, I’ll bank the money I earn and learn what I can from the sports agent.
As I approach one of the guards in the lobby, I flash the badge that Everett, the Head of Human Resources, gave me last week. I’m early for my first day because I want to have time to organize my desk and get my bearings before my boss shows up at work.
The building that houses Morgan Sports Management is on one of the busiest streets in the city. I passed by the Empire State Building on my way here this morning. The first time I ever went there, I was with my dad. He took me up to the observation deck and told me that the city was mine to conquer.
I�
�m doing that by chasing my dreams. This job may be a temporary detour, but I need it.
The guard narrows his eyes as he looks over my badge. “Good morning, Miss Weber.”
I smile at the brown-haired man. “Good morning to you.”
I scan the front of his uniform for a nametag, but there isn’t one, so I offer him a hand in greeting. “I’m Maren. I’ll be working at Morgan Sports Management. You already know that from my badge.”
He takes my hand in his. “I was given the heads-up by Mr. Morgan himself. Everyone calls me Ripley.”
“Ripley,” I repeat his name. “I’m early, but what better way to start a new job, right?”
“I’ve been here for five years, and I’m early for every one of my shifts.” He smiles. “I’ll get the elevator for you. I hope you have a memorable first day on the job.”
***
An hour later, my desk is organized exactly how I like it with the computer on the right and the office phone to my left.
I took a mini-tour of the office and found a break room equipped with two different coffee machines, a microwave, and a mini-fridge. I didn’t bring lunch with me today because I plan on meeting up with Arietta to share a sandwich and an update on how my morning went.
That was her idea, and I quickly jumped on the chance to see a familiar face mid-day.
“How are you settling in?” Everett asks as he steps up to my desk.
I saw him exit the elevator ten minutes ago. He turned in the direction of his office, but tossed me a wave as he talked on his cell. From my limited time with him, I sense he’s a good man who loves his family.
I counted three pictures of his wife and their two kids on his desk when I met with him last week.
“I think I’m settled.” I laugh.
“That will change when Keats shows up.” A chuckle escapes him. “He’ll keep you on your toes.”
Before I have a chance to quiz him further, the elevator doors slide open, and Keats appears.
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