by Sky Corgan
“Did I? I'm sorry,” her voice sounded sincere, but I couldn't tell if it really was or not. After a few minutes of standing there while she finished up her work, Ulga showed me to my desk. I would stick out like a sore thumb amidst the sea of blondes. Maybe I should dye my hair after all.
The rest of the day was a lot less stressful than the first fifteen minutes. Ulga had me stuff envelopes until lunch. At lunch, I sat at my desk while everyone else went out. It felt strange to be so isolated, but I dealt with it well enough. These girls definitely weren't very welcoming. After lunch, I shadowed Ulga while she answered phones and scheduled meetings for Jack. Apparently, this would be more in line with what I'd actually be doing. We made reservations at several fancy restaurants for Jack and his colleagues, as well as booked a hotel suite for an upcoming business trip he had planned. Ulga told me I'd be going with Mister Kemble if I stuck around long enough. I noticed that only one suite was booked, not two, but I didn't question it.
That night when I got home, Mandy seemed enthusiastic toward asking me how my day had gone. I did my best to stay positive. After all, giving any hint of my discontent would put fear in her that I would go back on my word. To be honest, I still wasn't sure how I felt about the job.
“The blonde squad didn't seem too welcoming,” I admitted.
“They'll warm up to you. Just give them time,” Mandy assured me.
“I hope you're right. They didn't even invite me out to lunch with them, which I thought was strange.”
She shrugged. “Maybe they're jealous.”
“Of what?” I laughed.
“That you're going to be spending more time with Jack Kemble than they are.”
I hadn't really thought of that before. “There's nothing to be jealous of. Nothing is going to happen between us.”
“How do you know?” She smirked.
“Because I don't plan on being a slutty butt with him.”
“If you say so.”
“I do say so,” I insisted. “What, you don't think I can resist Mister Jack Kemble's charm?”
Mandy gave me a sardonic look. “It's Jack Kemble. He's a panty melter. No, I don't think you'll be able to resist him, if that's what he's after.”
Now it was a personal challenge. “We shall see.”
CHAPTER TWO
Working for Syngex Incorporated was a lot easier than I thought it would be. Aside from having to walk a quarter mile every morning to get Mister Kemble's coffee, there wasn't anything about the job I detested. Even that I managed to make less miserable by sneaking into a pair of tennis shoes whenever I got downstairs. While I wasn't sure if Jack would approve, if he couldn't see me, then what did it matter.
The blonde squad didn't seem to be warming up to me, but I didn't care about that too much. They were all a bunch of elitist bitches anyway, each one thinking they were better than the next. I listened to them chatter on break about where they had gone to college, the influential men that they were bedding, their rich parents or spouses or boyfriends. Money and fashion and sex and the high life seemed to be all they cared about. That was far removed from what I cared about. I just wanted to get from one day to the next without tripping over my own feet. Heck, I was still hoping they wouldn't notice I was wearing the same outfit every other day, which I was sure they did. The looks they gave me said it all. They knew I wasn't one of them.
Apparently, my fear was well merited. By the time Friday came around, Jack Kemble was calling me into his office for a meeting about my wardrobe. “Didn't you wear that outfit on Wednesday?” he began, arching an eyebrow as he looked me up and down.
“So you noticed, huh?” I was completely mortified. More than likely, one of the girls turned me in. Jack didn't seem like a master of observation. After all, he had so many women to watch over.
“You should be wearing a different outfit every day of the week,” he told me, making me feel even more like shit. “Preferably a new one every day of the month. I like my employees looking fresh.”
The condescension was quickly making me upset. Did he even know how bad that sounded? It was like he thought I was filthy.
“If you remember, my past experience is mostly with restaurants. I've never had any need for fancy business attire,” I said between gritted teeth.
“Well, you'll need it here,” Jack replied dismissively, keeping his nose in a stack of paperwork on his desk.
“Unless I can magic some new outfits out of thin air, then I suppose you'll just have to wait until I get a few paychecks. Having a roof over my head is preferable to pleasing you, no offense,” I snapped and then instantly regretted it. This should be the point where I was given my pink slip. Why couldn't I keep my damn mouth shut? Seriously though, what did he expect me to do? Jack knew I didn't even have enough money to pay rent. How could he possibly think I could afford more clothing?
He paused for a moment, thinking. “See me at the end of the day.”
“Jack, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to snap like that.” I quickly tried to salvage the situation.
“I'm very busy right now, Miss Strayer. Please come see me before you leave today.” Jack didn't bother looking up at me, and I knew I was done for. Was there even any point in waiting until the end of the day?
Defeated, I sulked as I walked out of his office. The blondes gave me knowing stares, and one of them even smirked as if she'd heard the entire conversation. I wanted to punch her right in her perfect face, but the last thing I needed was a trip to jail to accentuate my bad day.
The rest of the morning was a mental battle over whether to stay or go. At the end of the day, I would be fired, so why should I stick around. Life was over as I knew it. When I got home, I would be forced to pack and leave. I couldn't string Mandy on any longer. A promise was a promise.
The only thing keeping me in the office was thoughts of a larger paycheck. Whether Jack wanted to or not, he would have to pay me for the time spent there. And for as miserable as I was waiting for my impending doom, I knew I needed the money, though I wasn't sure how much good it would do me.
I performed my menial duties with all the enthusiasm as someone about to lose their job. When I was required to make inner office calls, I was rude to everyone I spoke to. The correspondences I typed up weren't spell or grammar checked. I even skipped making one of Jack's dinner reservations. While I felt it was a bold thing to do, I was sure one of the blondes would catch it. They were watching me like a hawk every step of the way, waiting for me to screw up. Did they know I already had?
Finally, five o'clock rolled around. Reluctantly, I waited at my desk while everyone else took their leave for the afternoon. Jack would emerge from his office soon to give his parting words, and then I would go find a bar and a drunk guy to bum drinks off of. It was one of those days.
Patience wasn't one of my virtues though, and after sticking around until five fifteen with no sign of Jack, I decided I would just leave. Fuck him. I didn't need to endure a dismissive condescending bullshit speech. My day had been bad enough, and besides, we both already knew what he was going to say anyway.
Not wanting to waste gas, I decided to change into my tennis shoes and walk down the street a ways. Whatever bar I came to should suffice. They all had the same kinds of guys in them, guys who like buying pretty girls a drink. And if they didn't, then my afternoon would only be that much worse. It wasn't uncommon for my shit sandwiches to get a few extra helpings before the day was through.
After walking a few blocks, I finally came to a bar that looked like it had a decent mix of young guys and businessmen. Now it was just scouting the area for the one who would most likely buy for me. It wasn't long before I saw a group of college guys staring at me from their table, making perverted jests and laughing in their beers. Using my best model walk, I strode over to them, leaning on their table so that my cleavage was well exposed.
“Hey guys,” I flirted, but before I could get another word out my phone rang, distracting me from the task at hand. A
nnoyed, I flipped it open, pulling a chair out to seat myself at the table. The boys awkwardly greeted me, not seeming to mind my presence while they waited for me to get off the phone.
“Where'd you go?” Jack Kemble inquired on the other end of the line. I could feel my anger rising just from the sound of his voice.
“To a bar down the street,” I replied.
“Which one?”
“Shenanigans.”
“I'll be there in a minute.”
Before I had a chance to ask why, I heard the phone disconnect. Exasperated, I groaned, pulling myself up out of the chair to push it back in under the table.
“Hey, where are you going?” one of the guys asked.
“Sorry. I have to go deal with something. I'll come back if you guys are still here when I'm done,” I promised, feeling a bit embarrassed.
Did Jack Kemble want to fire me so badly he'd come do it in person? I wondered. It would be a really dick move, especially to fire me publicly. If that was his plan, then I wouldn't hesitate to give him a piece of my mind. At least, the display would probably earn me some sympathy drinks.
My stomach was a ball of nerves as I crawled up onto a bar stool in front of the bar, staring straight ahead as if I were afraid to lay eyes on Jack. The bartender came by to ask if I wanted anything to drink, reminding me of how poor I was.
It took about fifteen minutes before Jack arrived. I hadn't actually seen him walk in, but as soon as he spoke, I knew his voice. “Do you normally drink water when you go to a bar, or is that just a really tall glass of vodka?”
“I wish it was the latter of the two,” I admitted, still refusing to look at Jack. Let's just get this done and over with, I thought. Prolonging it only made me more anxious.
“Bad day?” he asked.
“Yeah.” I sipped my water, trying to keep conversation short.
“Well, if you want, I'll take you out drinking after we're done. You probably don't want to drink beforehand.”
“What are you talking about?” I turned my eyes to him finally, giving a confused look.
“I thought I would take you shopping.” Jack smiled warmly at me.
“Shopping?”
“Yeah. Consider it a sign-on bonus.”
“A sign-on bonus,” I repeated, thinking. Part of me wanted to smile, but the other part of me was angry. Like usual, I had blown things out of proportion—imagined a scenario that wasn't real. He had never intended to fire me in the first place. And now, I had made him have to come find me, which couldn't possibly look good.
“That isn't necessary,” I said meekly.
“But it is. I can't have you walking around my office wearing the same thing every other day. It doesn't look right.”
“No one sees me but you and the blonde squad.”
“The blonde squad?” Jack laughed, though I didn't find it funny at all. “People in the elevator see you. People in the parking lot see you. People on the street see you, and they see you coming into my building.”
“I get it,” I sighed. What he was getting at was that I was an embarrassment to his company. It made my blood boil, but I knew better than to say anything. “Shopping. Alright, let's go.” I pushed away from the bar.
To my surprise, Jack had walked to the bar, the same as I had. The trek back to the office was long and filled with awkward silent. Only once did he speak to me when he looked down at my shoes to say, “I want you wearing your heels when you go to get me coffee in the mornings.” I had to bite my tongue to keep from screaming at him.
Once we got to the parking garage, Jack led me to his black Escalade. We crawled inside and buckled up before taking off down the ramp.
“I'm surprised you don't have a chauffeur,” I commented, trying to make conversation.
“I usually only have one when I'm going somewhere important or somewhere I need to be recognized or feel safe.”
“Oh.”
“So, how are you liking the job so far?”
“It's easy enough.”
“How are the girls treating you?”
“They don't talk to me, which is fine. I come here to work, not to socialize.”
“If only more people felt that way.”
We drove to Fifth Avenue where Jack walked me up and down the street, in and out of stores, dressing me up like a real-life doll and loading down our arms with shopping bags. It felt strange to shop with a man like that. He hand-picked every single outfit and forced me to try them all on, scrutinizing me once I came out of the dressing room. If the fit wasn't perfect, he'd send me back in with something else. By the time we were finished shopping, Jack had spent well over three thousand dollars on me, and I was absolutely exhausted.
“That was a work out,” I commented when we climbed back into the car, trying not to make it sound like a complaint.
“It was necessary,” he told me, still sounding condescending.
“So what if I quit tomorrow?” I turned to look at him, trying to get a reaction.
“You won't quit tomorrow,” he replied, deadpan.
“How do you know?” I arched an eyebrow.
“Because tomorrow is Saturday. You'd have to wait until Monday to quit.”
I thought about saying I could always quit that very moment, but talking about quitting made me uncomfortable, and I was already regretting bringing it up in the first place. The last thing I needed was to make Jack paranoid that I'd leave, especially after he spent so much money on me.
When I realized we weren't heading back to Syngex, I asked where we were going.
“To a bar,” he replied simply.
“I don't really feel like drinking,” I told Jack. The afternoon had already been tense and awkward enough as it was.
“Well I do, and I think you at least owe me your company.”
He had me there. There was no way I could back out after all he had done for me. Spending the afternoon with my boss wasn't how I had envisioned my Friday night, though I would have just stayed home otherwise.
After the way Jack had treated me since taking me on as his employee, I no longer feared him hitting on me. All the kindness of Jim had faded away, and the professionalism of Jack had taken over. If he said he just wanted my company, I would believe him and do my best not to be a Debbie downer.
I honestly had no idea how I was supposed to entertain him though. We had absolutely nothing in common. Jack was famous and successful with a perfect life and everything he wanted, while I was poor and barely scraping along, mooching off my best friend and the good grace of Jack's charity. Thinking about it made me feel like crap. It seemed like I was indebted to everyone I knew with no way to pay them back.
To my surprise, we pulled up to a little hole in the wall. The parking lot was sparse, and Jack's Escalade stuck out like a sore thumb. This was definitely not a place I would think was Jack Kemble approved.
He led me inside where a homely looking older female bartender greeted us before we went to slide into a booth. She was at our table to take our drink order before I had even figured out what I wanted.
“I'll have a martini, shaken not stirred,” Jack said before looking over to me.
“I'll have a DosXX, dressed, please.” It was the first thing that came to mind.
“I didn't figure you for a beer drinker.” Jack seemed amused.
“What did you figure me for then?”
“I thought you'd like fruity cocktails.”
“I do every once in a while. Beer is cheap though.”
“Not DosXX. It's an import.”
“Should I have gotten Budweiser?” I asked quizzically. Was he guilting me out for ordering a more expensive beer too?
“No. You should get whatever you want.”
“Well then, I guess we can both be happy then. I got what I wanted.” I didn't know what else to say.
“Getting what you want is a good thing.”
“Indeed.”
“So what do you want, out of life, I mean?”
“Hm.” I paused for a moment. “I think I just want to be able to get by every month without struggling.”
“You're not dreaming very big.”
“I like to keep my dreams realistic. Besides, the time for dreaming big is over.”
“What makes you say that?” He arched an eyebrow.
“Well.” I felt suddenly nervous, not knowing how to answer. Should I tell him that I didn't have any aspirations? That I thought thirty was too old to be going back to college? Anything I said would sound stupid, and he'd probably have a counter for it.
Thankfully, the bartender came to deliver our drinks, distracting Jack from the question. He thanked her and handed her his credit card to open a tab. In all honesty, I was a bit surprised. I figured we'd just have one friendly drink and then head back to the office. By the looks of it, Jack planned on sticking around for a while.
“Do you drink a lot?” I asked, feeling embarrassed by the question as soon as it left my mouth.
“No more than most people do.” He smirked, and the room lit up around him. Was it the dim lighting making Jack look so attractive? I hadn't been this close to him since the day we had coffee together. It felt like that had been eons ago though—another life, another time.
“Sorry, that probably sounded rude.”
“No, it's fine. You're nervous aren't you?”
Was it that obvious? “A bit,” I admitted.
“Don't be. We're going to be spending a lot of time together. Sometimes it will be stuffy, and I'll have to play the part of the stern boss. Other times it will be casual like this.
“Outside of the office, I want you to think of me as a friend. I'd like to be someone who you can turn to . . . for anything. If you're ever in trouble and need help, you can call me. Or if you ever just want someone to talk to. I'm a pretty nice guy once you get to know me.”
Jim was coming back. I could see him again behind Jack's kind eyes. It was like Jekyll and Hyde, and I now understood who I could expect to see when.
“Alright, Mister Kemble.” I nodded.
“Jack,” he corrected me. “When we're alone like this, it's just Jack.”
