Chapter 1
1986 Words
Chapter One
Annie
“I QUIT!” a woman’s shout echoes through the office.
“Good. I was about to fire you anyway. You’re saving me some paperwork.” Enzo Mancini’s office door opens, and his voice travels all the way to my desk.
Seconds later, the phone on my desk rings, and I pick it up.
“And… she’s gone,” my coworker and friend, Jake, says with a chuckle.
“I give her credit. She lasted two weeks longer than I gave her.”
He sighs. “Damn it. That means Mae won the pool again. Put your drinking cap on, we’re going out tonight.”
From the corner of my eye, I spot my boss, Shelby, speed-walking through the open floor plan in her heels, ordering everyone back to work as though we’re a bunch of fourth graders. She’s officially the one in charge of all the admin staff, but we each work side-by-side with one of the senior advertising executives, so in essence, we all have two bosses. Lucky us.
“Shelby’s on the move,” I say in a low voice.
“She looks semi-frantic this time around,” Jake comments, having more of a front row seat than I do at this end of the office. While I get the privilege of counting our coworker Milo’s trips to the bathroom because of his weak bladder, Jake is blessed with staring at Enzo Mancini whenever he wants. Life is so unfair.
I lean back in my office chair, tapping my pen on the desk. “Sorry, you’ll have to navigate Mae all by yourself. I’ve got plans.” I glance at the time on my computer screen. “Damn, I better go if I’m going to make it.”
“Where are you going?” he asks.
Mr. Mancini must have come out of his office because I can hear his now calmer voice more clearly. “Explain something to me, Shelby…” The door to his office must close then, because I can’t hear anything else.
“I’ll tell you after,” I say.
He tsks. “Secrets won’t win you any friends, Annie.”
I open my bottom drawer, grabbing my purse.
“Oh, shit.” Jake hangs up.
I look across the office to see a bunch of the assistants on the move, all disappearing in different directions. A few head to the break room, a few to the bathroom, and the rest sprinkle over to my side of the office. I double-check my desk to be sure I haven’t left anything I’ll need this weekend and look up to find Shelby and Mr. Mancini’s former assistant walking toward me.
“Mr. Mancini is a difficult man to please. You’re not the first one to quit. Don’t feel too bad about it.” Shelby walks by with her arm around the assistant’s shoulders.
“I thought I was supposed to be learning. Shouldn’t he have worked with me?” The poor girl has no idea how screwed she was when she was hired on as Lorenzo Mancini’s assistant.
“Mr. Mancini does things differently than our other ad execs. If you need a reference, please have them contact me.” Shelby shoots me a sympathetic smile as she walks by my desk.
I smile at her, hoisting my purse on my shoulder and grabbing my rain jacket from the coat hanger outside Mr. Beardsman’s office. I’m hurrying because I’m scheduled to leave early today, and everyone knows that someone will have to cover now that Mr. Mancini’s assistant is gone. It’s not like Enzo Mancini can get his own coffee, let alone use the big, bad copy machine. Perish the thought.
The presentation for Coddle is this afternoon, and if he lands the account, he could very well be named partner by the end of the year. No way will he prepare alone for something so huge.
I knock on Mr. Beardsman’s door.
“Come in.” Mr. Beardsman hangs up the phone and swivels in my direction, his usual smile on his face.
“Do you need anything else before I leave?” I tie my rain jacket at my waist.
“No, I’m right behind you. Can you believe my Scarlett is in her first play?” He beams at the picture of his daughter on his desk.
“Tell her I said break a leg, though I know she’ll do great. Oh, I should have gotten you flowers to give her for after.” Damn it, I meant to run to the florist during my break this morning.
“You spoil me, Annie. They’ll mean more if I do it myself. Plus, you helped me with that Nectar ad. I should be thanking you.”
Could my boss be any better? He’s in at nine, out at five. Never expects me to work on weekends or after hours. Mr. Beardsman took me under his wing two years ago, enabling me to slowly gain the knowledge I’ll need to one day become a full-fledged ad exec. Sure I haven’t gotten to work on an actual campaign yet, but I’m involved in all the periphery stuff.
He stands, collecting his briefcase and his umbrella. He eyes the clock and glances at me. “Soon you’ll probably get promoted over me.”
He smiles as if the thought doesn’t bother him in the least. Although, I don’t think he’s right about that.
I smile. “I’ll see you Monday.”
“Have a great weekend.” He shrugs on his coat.
I walk out of his office and right into Shelby.
“Annie,” she sighs, relief in her shoulders as though I’m her life preserver after treading water for hours.
“I’m off this afternoon. I can’t do it.”
“He needs someone.” She chases me to the elevator.
I press the button to call the elevator. “Not me.”
“It’s just for one afternoon,” she insists.
We wait by the elevator, Shelby at my side. I examine her sweater vest, complete with sporadic cat hairs poking out. Will I be her one day? No, I’m choosing to be alone. It’s different.
“I have plans, otherwise you know I would,” I say to fill the silence.
“Shelby!” Mr. Mancini bellows as he walks down the hallway.
I press the down button on the elevator again, harder this time, and glance to the stairwell sign. Tempting, but seventy-five floors isn’t ideal in my heels. I’d be soaked in sweat before I made it onto the Manhattan street.
Shelby pales as her eyes flicker to Mr. Mancini walking toward us. “Please. I’ll give you two days extra days of vacation. Name your price.”
“I’m sorry.”
The elevator doors ding open, and I step in as Mr. Mancini reaches Shelby. She throws herself between the elevator doors before they shut, and they pop back open. I catch Jake and Mae snickering as they watch, and I narrow my eyes, pressing the button for the ground level.
Mr. Mancini holds a stack of papers. “Who’s mine for the rest of the day?”
Shelby shoots me pathetic and somewhat desperate eyes. She smiles at Mr. Mancini, putting up her finger. “One moment.” She turns to me, tearing up. “I’d do it myself, but I have to get Pinkie to the vet later today. She’s in awful pain. I think something is wrong with her.”
I sigh. Using a sick cat is a low blow. But Shelby would never lie about that because she’d be worried about karma coming back to her or one of her precious cats.
I contemplate my choices. The pedicure I was getting before moving into my new place can wait. If I get out by four, I’ll be good.
“I can only stay until four.” I step out of the elevator.
The papers are still under Mr. Mancini’s arm, and his thumbs move over the screen of his phone like a teenager.
“You know Annie Stewart, Ted Beardsman’s assistant?” Shelby touches his upper arm.
I bet it’s rock hard with muscle.
He nods without lifting his head, still entranced with his phone. A moment later, he takes a break from texting and hands me the pile of papers, not bothering to look at me. “I need this proposal copied and bound. There will be six people total.” He turns on his heel and walks down the hallway.
“See you, Enzo,” Mr. Beardsman says while walking toward us, his forehead crinkling the closer he gets.
“Ted?” Mr. Mancini stops him.
They talk about something I can’t hear, but Ted laughs and slaps Enzo on the back.
“Just remember come Monday, she’s back to being mine.”
Mr. Mancini must say something else because Ted laughs again. Lorenzo Mancini, funny man. Yeah, right.
Mr. Beardsman joins us at the elevators, pressing the down button. “You’re too nice, Annie. Should’ve run out of here.”
He steps into the elevator while I stand here holding a stack of papers that came with instructions from a man who didn’t bother to look me in the eye. “You so owe me, Shelby.”
I stomp down the hallway and throw my purse and jacket onto my chair like a toddler having a fit. If I could, I’d jump up and down, screaming. After grabbing my cell phone from my purse, I text Jake and Mae and head to the copy room.
I’m not in there for more than a minute before they join me and shut the door. I blow out a breath, organizing the papers in my hand.
“Sorry,” Jake says, sliding onto the table with a bag of Twizzlers. Obviously, he hid out in the break room.
“You could’ve taken one for the team.” I shoot the papers through the color copier.
“I’m innocent. I’m in accounting.” Mae holds up her hands and joins Jake on the table, digging her hand into the bag of Twizzlers on his lap.
“I had somewhere to be,” I whine, grabbing my own Twizzler from Jake’s stash. I bite off the top of it with more ferocity than necessary.
Jake tilts his head. “And where is that?”
I roll my eyes.
Mae says nothing because she already knows.
“Nowhere, but if I don’t get out of here by four o’clock, I’m going to make a little voodoo doll of you, Jake Hill, and prick you right between the legs.”
Mae laughs.
Jake squeezes his thighs together. “Whoa. That’s harsh.”
The copies finish, and I shift my attention to the binding area. Jake stays put, but Mae hops down and puts her hand on my shoulder.
“I’ll be over tonight to help,” she whispers.
“What am I missing? I thought this was a three-way friendship?”
Mae and I look over our shoulders and laugh. I pop the rest of the licorice into my mouth.
“You wish it could be a three-way.” Mae leans across the small room, grabs two more pieces of licorice, and hands one to me.
“We are alone and there’s a lock on this door…”
I put my hand to my ear. “Ever heard of s****l harassment?”
“Relax, I see you both as sisters.”
I wink and bind the third presentation together. There’s silence except for the sound of each of us chewing.
“Come on, guys. I feel like that loser friend no one talks to,” Jake whines.
Mae shakes her head, eyeing me to see if I’m willing to share my news. The only reason I’ve kept it from him is because I don’t want him making a big deal of it. Though it is a big deal to me, it’s not as though people don’t buy condos every day.
I turn around, and Mae takes over binding the next presentation packet for me. “I’m moving. I bought a condo.”
He jumps off the table and wraps his arms around me, dancing in the middle of the room.
“It’s small. One-bedroom and in Inwood, so…”
He continues to sway us side to side with his arms around me, while Mae finishes my job for me.
“I have to call my dad to meet the movers now.” I groan.
“Your dad loves doing stuff like that,” Mae says.
“We need to celebrate.” Jake spins me just as the door opens.
He loses his grip, and I twirl until I fall into a rock-hard body. One fleeting glance into his soft brown eyes and I slide down his body as though he’s caked in Vaseline, landing in a heap at his feet.
“What the hell is going on in here?” Mr. Mancini’s voice booms through the small room.
Did God curse him because he’s so beautiful? When he was doling out attributes, did he check the box next to “asshole” to prove you can’t have everything in life?
- Writer
