I make my way inside the fifteen-story building as the words 'Lilac Roses' loom over my head as it has for the past two years. At first, it was intimidating to be the assistant to the CEO of the world's greatest fashion line of the 21st century.
I remember the stress I was under throughout college and high school. I was always trying my best to get the highest grades and GPA so that I could get accepted into the school of my dreams.
I would spend countless nights watching math tutorials as it wasn't my strongest suit and admittedly, it still isn't. I would always try to be as sociable as possible. I would often multi-task and time myself. I had no life. I went to no parties. And as sad as it is to admit, I had no friends.
I've wanted to be a fashion designer for as long as I can remember. I drew a new outfit every night but could never make the final product. Seemingly random shapes of cloth coming together to form something amazing always had me in awe. No matter how many tutorials I watched or what summer schools I went to, I simply couldn't make a simple shirt to save my life, much less the dresses I designed.
I've since decided a life of sewing wasn't for me. While I still had my artistic taste, I decided to switch to the other side of the spectrum. The side of endless appointments and calls. Nights spent on an infinite sea of reports. It took an exceptionally long time, but I had finally gotten good at my job. The only problem with being an assistant is the constant change of bosses.
Each boss does things differently. There wasn't a single day that I wasn't scrambling to keep up with the constant demands and coffee runs. Seeing how I wasn't good at math, I truly don't know how I got here but I sure did bust my ass to end up here.
I set my files down on my desk and finished up the report I started last night. I don't have to look at the clock to know it's time for me to file the report.
This job is extremely tedious and, at other times disturbing. The businessmen and women in this industry are ruthless. They are always looking for an opening to swoop in and bash our company into the ground. I was never intimidated by them. Disgusted would be a better word.
They are like roaches, you think you've killed one just for it to have multiplied. Much like its Blattodea cousins, they only get stronger the more you try to put them down. They are pests who would outlive all of us with their selfish ways. Mr. Charles' name pops into my head and a chill of unease runs through my spine.
That man is the worst of the worst. My boss may be a cold-hearted, tiresome, ill-mannered pretentious bastard, but at least he isn't a sleaze. Mr. Charles knows what boundaries are he just refuses to acknowledge them. He's a creep at best and a menace to society at worst. I shake myself off along with the thought of Mr. Charles.
I walk through Mr. Madden's door not bothering to knock as we have already become accustomed to our routine. If I knocked it would have only annoyed him as he knows it's me every time. "These are the reports you requested-" I am cut off by Mr. Madden's words.
"Yesterday. I requested them yesterday," I keep my face impassive, refusing to show my agitation, not that he would see it. In the past two years, Mr. Madden has barely spared me a glance. Sometimes I wonder if he knows how I look or if he only recognizes me by my voice.
His muscles bulge along his skin-tight black button-up shirt that is rolled up to his elbows. He sits in a perfect posture as he reads through the files on his desk. His glasses perfectly frame his face as his midnight black hair drapes down his face and brush his eyebrows. His eyes are such a dark blue that it is nearly black.
His eyes feel like an endless void that sucks anyone who dares to look into it, in. It reminds me of a black hole. Empty, devoid of life, and cold.
"Yesterday I was filing other reports, preparing the 'Palace Ball' for our annual gala, managing meetings, and appointments with Ms. Blach, who by the way will be calling you in the next two hours or so, booking your flight for the next week, making the PowerPoint for our presentation today, managing our inventory, updating our database, and typing down the report which you asked for today, not yesterday."
I keep my face neutral but I know the tone of my voice says it all. This man has never once praised me on how I practically keep this company afloat. I never once got a single 'thank you' or 'good job.' "Do your job,"
"Excuse me?" I asked with gritted teeth. "Yesterday you were doing your job. If you are incapable of continuing to do your job, the door is behind you."
I know where the door is asshole, I've been coming through it for the past two years to tend to your needs. I softly place the report on his desk despite the urge to slam it across his head. I walk out the door without saying anything else.
I make my way to my desk and unlock it to access my files. "How are you holding up?" a gruff yet smooth voice purrs in my ear. "How is your project coming along?" Luke, my best friend, and favorite co-worker wince at the words I spoke. "Not so great,"
"Then you just answered your previous question," I give him a sarcastic smile. "It's almost as if your response hinged on the fact that I have yet to even look at my latest project." He groans and flops in the seat beside me.
"You know it did because I know you well. Instead of sipping on that cup of coffee, how about you get started on said project?" He rolls his eyes at my comment. "I'm sorry, I forgot that we can't all be as organized and skilled as you," my face contorts into a smug grin.
"Not everybody can be a CEO's assistant," I lift my face with pride. "Yet every CEO has one," Luke retorts, diminishing the pride I felt. I give him a long and hard scowl. "How is that going for you by the way? Being the 'CEO's assistant' I mean," Luke mocks me as he repeats my previous words.
"He's still an ungrateful bastard," honestly not much has changed in these past two years. He's the same miserable man he was before I got here. To be fair our jobs don't leave much room for a social life. I'm here till midnight most of the time and sometimes here before six. Mr. Madden stays in later and comes in earlier.
"What you need is to get laid," Luke throws me a wink. I once again find myself rolling my eyes in his presence. "Not everything is about sex. I wouldn't have time to get laid anyway," I continue to furiously type and review the documents on my desk. "Speaking of having no time, aren't you supposed to be going on a trip with the CEO next week?"
"No, he's going on that trip by himself with an escort. While he is leaving to tend to business it's more of a personal matter so there's no need for me to go."
"I heard you're going to have your own team of assistants soon," he grins but I groan. "It was something Mr. Madden suggested but more people means a pay cut and I don't have time to go over everybody's work. I don't have the time to shape a team into well, me."
Luke rolls his eyes. "I am going to get started on this project," I give him a grunt as a response. "Don't forget your meeting is in-" I cut him off. "30 minutes, I know," Luke produces a high-pitched whistle that makes me cringe. "As sharp as ever," with one final smirk he leaves and waves goodbye.
~~~
With ten minutes left to spare I quickly review my PowerPoint and make sure it's running smoothly. Once I am satisfied with my work I get out of my chair and open Mr. Madden's door. I come face to face with a chiseled chest. Mr. Madden has rolled his sleeves down and applied his blazer, looking more professional than before.
He doesn't acknowledge my presence as he bypasses me, exits the room, and heads toward the conference room. I walk with him in a stride. My co-workers stare at us in awe. We may seem like a power duo in the eyes of others, but the truth is we couldn't be more separate despite living the same life. When we walk into the room all chatter ceases.
I go around the long table and to the only desk in the room. I quickly hook up my computer and start my presentation. I make the presentation quick, and it doesn't take long until I'm done. Public speaking has always evoked nerves in my stomach. This time is no different, even if it is a small crowd and something I do frequently.
The conference ends after two hours of opinions and ideas flying around. It isn't my job to speak up in such matters. I don't get a chance to sit in my chair before my phone rings. When I pick it up, Ms. Blach's voice greets me from the other side. I put her on hold before asking Mr. Madden if he is ready. He gives me a nod, and I redirect Ms. Blach. The day goes on as per usual.
I only leave the building at 11:30 PM. A solid 30 minutes earlier. I make a mental note, patting myself on the back. As I check the time, I realize I have a missed call. I call her back, and it only takes three rings before she answers.
"Hey, I haven't seen you in so long. I forgot you worked long hours," I hear my sister's voice say from the other end of the line. A smirk forms on my face as it has been a while since we've talked. "How could you forget? That's the main thing I bitch to you about whenever we do get a chance to talk,"
"Then I guess I will have to start hearing more of you. Speaking of which, what do you say about staying over at my house for a week?" I recoil at her sudden request. "Where is this coming from?" I ask, suspicion laced in my voice.
"I have big news that I want to share with you and someone I want you to meet," Big news? Someone she wants me to meet? "Your house is two hours from my job, and I can't spare the extra sleep,"
"Then take a break. It's just one week," I laugh at my sister's words before exasperation hits my voice.
"Are you insane? Do you want me to lose my job, or do you really think it's that easy?"
"Then can you visit every day?"
"Can you pay for my gas money?" a heavy sigh escapes her lips. "Yes, fine! I'll pay for everything, just pack your bags and be here tomorrow!" I have to pull the phone from my ear as she screams through the phone. I don't get to respond before she hangs up. I lower my head with a groan and jump into my car.
I wonder what this is about and who she could possibly want me to meet.