5
She was running late. Or at least she thought she might be. Actually, she had been so excited to have a job that she had forgotten to ask a whole slew of questions. Topping the list was what time to arrive. For that matter, when could she expect to leave? Mr. Sinclair pretty much told her she would be at the mercy of the tyrant author he was pairing her with, so maybe there was no end time? God, she hoped there was an end time. While she didn’t mind working, she certainly didn’t want to make it her life.
Buttoning up her blouse, Piper spritzed on a little floral perfume and dashed out the door. She would be walking today since city parking was difficult even on the best day, but it was only eight blocks so she didn’t think that would be much of a challenge. If she was too tired after work, she would catch a cab back.
Her speed walking skills put speed walkers everywhere to shame as she hustled down the city blocks. Thankfully, she only had her purse to hold her back, because supplies were also on the short end of her list that day in the office. She could just kick herself. It was as if her brain completely flew out the window at the promise of a job. What if they expected her to have a computer, a planner, an organizer, pens, pencils? Piper felt completely unprepared as she jogged up the last block to the impressive glass-fronted building.
Well, if her lack of responsibility ruined her chances and she found herself on the next Greyhound back to Alabama, at least she would still have the memory of that night when she’d had the best sex of her life in the women’s bathroom with a delicious stranger. She shivered as she approached the main doors; the stranger’s hands still a faint echo on her skin.
Tugging at the handle, she was puzzled to find it locked. Did they stage a lockout when their employees failed to get there on time, like they did to kids in high school? Sure that wasn’t the case, Piper looked for the sign all businesses had posted in their windows showing the hours of operation, but she didn’t make it that far.
“Hi there!” a warm, friendly voice called out. “You must be Piper Donovan.”
Piper looked up to find a gorgeous brunette bearing down on her. She was shorter than Piper, petite, and wore a huge, welcoming smile. “I am.” Piper smiled. “How did you know?”
Shifting a large briefcase into her left hand, the woman pulled out a set of keys and unlocked the doors. Motioning her to follow, she stepped inside, waved to an older gentleman pushing a cart full of cleaning supplies, and headed toward a bank of elevators set into the north wall. “We ‘P’ names have to stick together,” she said as they stepped into the waiting car. “I’m Poppy Montgomery, Mr. Sinclair’s personal assistant.”
Piper shook her proffered hand. “What are the odds? It’s nice to meet you, Poppy.”
“Likewise.” As they stepped off on the thirty-second floor, Piper’s stomach knotted. The posh waiting area was empty and she could tell by all the closed office doors and blackened interiors that they were the first to arrive. That knowledge alone helped soothe Piper’s jangled nerves.
“We’re the first to arrive,” Poppy echoed her thoughts. “The big guys always come in at the last possible minute.”
Piper gave her a weak smile and nodded. Unsure of what to do next, she followed Poppy down a short hallway leading away from the office area and into the break room. She watched from the doorway as Poppy moved around the room. She seemed like a nice person, someone worth getting to know. If even half of the people who worked here were anything like Poppy, then Piper was sure she could handle anything her mystery author threw at her. She’d experienced too many bad jobs to throw away a good one over one bad seed.
When she saw Poppy open the refrigerator and rearrange some take-away cartons to make room for her brown bag lunch, Piper’s first thought was how relatable and down to earth this woman seemed. So far, the pro column was stacking up in her favor. The second thing she thought was damn! She’d forgotten to pack her stinking lunch.
Without her first paycheck, she was seriously low on funds. She wasn’t sure she could fit a muffin or even a simple coffee into her budget at this point.
If she was lucky, and she could fit it into her schedule, maybe she would be able to dash home during her lunch hour and grab a bite to eat. It was either that, or she would be starving until dinner time. If worse came to worst, she would have to go for broke and buy her lunch. Either way, a girl had to eat, or she got cranky when she missed a meal.
Closing the fridge, Poppy produced two bottles of water and offered her one. Too nervous to drink anything, Piper waved her off.
Cracking open her bottle, Poppy leaned back against a long stretch of counter. Behind her, the coffee maker fizzled and gurgled as it filled the room with a rich aroma tinged with a hint of vanilla. “So, where are you from, Piper? I love your accent.”
Her accent? She wasn’t aware she still had one. When she first came up north everyone commented on it, and she spent months getting rid of it. “Alabama.”
“That explains it.” Poppy aimed her water at her. “I knew someone from South Carolina who sounded kind of like you. Always wished I had that extra little flair in my words, but no, I just speak plain old English.” She sighed longingly.
Piper laughed. “You mean you want to sound like a hillbilly? I think that’s the nicest thing anyone has ever said. Sure beats being called a hick.” She couldn’t count how many times people had called her that to her face before she finally snapped. Maybe they thought she was one of those girls raised on good old southern hospitality, but they didn’t teach that kind of thing where she was from. No, her manners were self-taught, but she would drop them in a heartbeat if someone pushed her the wrong way.
“Beats being plain.” Plunking her empty bottle into a blue recycle bin, Poppy resumed her stance. “So what brought you to Chicago? What made you choose this line of work?”
Piper was just about to answer when the elevators pinged and the murmur of several voices floated toward them.
Poppy sighed. “Looks like it’s time to get to work. Come on,” she said breezing past her. “Mr.
Sinclair wants to see you before you get started.” She guided Piper through the main seating area to the same office she had interviewed in. Rapping her knuckles on the door, Poppy opened it and went inside without waiting for a reply.
The butterflies were swarming in her belly now
, making Piper feel faintly nauseated. She probably should have eaten breakfast before she left, but then again, if she had it would probably be decorating her new boss’s sophisticated gray carpet now.
Bent over his desk, Felix looked up from the desktop he had just fired up. His gaze landed on Poppy first, and there was no mistaking the heat that flared in his eyes. A moment later, he noticed P
iper’s presence in the room, and the look vanished. But she saw it, and judging from the soft, secret smile Poppy was wearing, it was obvious to Piper that there was something going on between these two. The boss and his secretary? How incredibly cliché, but then, who was she to judge?
Approaching the front of the desk, Poppy jerked her thumb back at Piper. “I found a straggler. Can I keep her?” As if she was a stray puppy or something. Piper and Felix grinned at her playfulness. “Okay, so, here are the files you requested on the Carson project…”
Piper waited patien
tly as the two talked shop, enjoying the pleasant, easy-going atmosphere her previous places of employment always seemed to lack. Definitely a nice change of pace. She let her gaze wander to the cityscape glittering brightly beyond the bank of tall windows. When she had first arrived in the city, she hadn’t been too sure how things would pan out, but now she wondered if this was the break she had been looking for. It certainly felt like it.
“Here are some goodies for you to play with.” Poppy was suddenly standing before her
, handing off a smart-looking black tote. Piper accepted it.
“Oh, um, thanks.” It was a little heavy, making her curious to see what was inside, but she suppressed the urge to look and looped the bag over her wrist, sliding it up to the crook of her elbow.
“You’re welcome. Oh, and when you’re done here, you’ll find Mr. Larson down at Bart’s Coffee. You know where it is?”
“Yes,” she answered automatically. Good thing she really did know, because the words just popped out. The job had suddenly gone from zero to sixty and she was having trouble getting her brain up to speed.
“Excellent.” Poppy was on her way out the door when she spun around. “I go to lunch at twelve-thirty. If you can, I would love for you to join me.” She gave her a small wink.
“Um, sure, yeah, that sounds good.”
Felix was smiling when she turned back to him. “I hope you get that lunch today. Poppy has been itching for another woman to spill her secrets to. Come, follow me.”
Piper followed Felix, stopping periodically along the way for him to introduce her to others in the office. They ended at a small room barely large enough to accommodate the long, narrow, industrial metal desk, filing cabinet and customary guest seating. On the plus side, the chair behind it appeared comfortable, and the happy-looking potted palm standing by the narrow corner window looked healthy. If it could survive in such dismal conditions, then surely she could too.
“This will be your office.” Felix stepped aside and motioned her inside. “Have a look around, get your bearings.” Piper did just that, making a beeline to her new office chair to see if it was as comfy as it looked. It was. “Comfortable?”
“Yes.” She sighed.
“Good. Now, the catch.” Piper’s muscles tensed. “You will be sharing this office with Tate, but,” he said quickly when she frowned, “you don’t need to worry too much about that. He rarely comes in. He prefers to work from home, or some other more suitable environment.”
“Who is Tate again?”
“Oh, my apologies. Tate is the author I was telling you about. Your new boss, your
second
boss. I’m the first, of course.” He grinned.
“Oh, he’s the Mr. Larson Ms. Montgomery said I would be meeting with after this?”
“The one and only. He seems to prefer working out of that place, don’t ask me why. It’s crowded and noisy nearly all hours of the day. I don’t know how he gets anything done, but who am I to question art?”
Yeah, well…At the moment, Piper was busy worrying about how eccentric this Tate Larson truly was. On a scale from one to ten, one where he picked the seeds off his bagel because they interfered with his ability to concentrate, and ten where he went all Van Gogh and chopped off his ear, where would this man fall? She considered asking Felix, but thought it best to leave it alone. She would find out soon enough.
Christ, she was going to be a shitty assistant, she just knew it.
She had zero experience with this kind of thing. One look at her, and this guy was going to boot her in the ass.
“Alright, so.” Felix came around to her side of the desk. “This is your computer.
Normally you would need to stop by every morning to check in, but with the equipment you were given, you can sign in from just about anywhere.” He pulled up a spreadsheet and showed her how to clock in her hours each day.
Pulling up another spreadsheet, she saw a list of names and numbers with times and locations next to them. “This is this week’s appointments schedule to start you off. You’ll be responsible for not only reminding Tate he has them, but making sure he actually gets there.”
Everything looked so complicated; Piper felt the nervous tension begin seeping into her muscles again. Felix clapped her on the shoulder. “Poppy put this all together, so if you have any questions, don’t hesitate to ask. And my door is always open.” He moved toward the door. “It’s going to take a few weeks to get acclimated, but I have every confidence that you will fit right in here. So relax, take a few minutes to enjoy your new office, learn where everything is.”
“Okay, I can do that.” Piper tried a smile out
, but it felt as contrived as it looked.
“With the nature of the job, you are free to come and go as you please. Be prepared to be the most hated person in the office. Everyone else here only wishes they could have the freedom you’re getting, myself included,” he joked. “Then again,” he said thoughtfully, “no one here thinks it’s worth the sacrifice. Frankly, you couldn’t pay me enough to spend every day with that man.”