The Gift

Chapter 2: Send Me an Angel-3

August

He had no idea if the interview had gone strikingly well or horribly bad. He did know, however, that the first thing he was doing once he got back to the apartment was tossing the damn magazine into the deepest, slimiest, filthiest part of their trash bin. If he never saw the offensive collection of journalism again, August would be a happy man indeed.

It had been the first thing Doren had spoken of when August sat down for the interview. He’d looked at August with those striking blue eyes flashing, that trademark grin on his face, and he’d said, “Are you planning on taking that?”

For a second August hadn’t need to feign confusion, he’d been so preoccupied with making sure he was still breathing that he’d forgotten all about the magazine. “I’m sorry, what?” he’d stuttered, looking down, right, left. “Take what?”

Doren had leaned closer and whispered, as if the comment were to be kept just between the two of them. As if that would have been possible in the small boardroom. “The magazine you have tucked in your jacket. The one you stole from the waiting room.”

August had blushed from head to toe, cursing himself in silence. Could he have made himself looked any more stupid? Any less competent or trustworthy? And he’d groaned when he realized it was probably the only reason he was sitting in front of Doren at all. He was their comedy relief.

There had been no words, no phrases, no clever comebacks that could have made the situation any more bearable. And Doren hadn’t offered August any outs. He’d just sat there grinning like the cat from Wonderland and let August sweat. Thankfully the lady from the phone, Diana, had stepped in and taken over the rest of the interview. She’d gone over his experience, delicately tiptoeing around the lack of it, and touched without prodding the topic of school and the why’s and how’s of him “probably” not going back next semester. Through it all Doren had ridden the office chair like it was a swing set, swiveling left and then right, left and right, his hands locked behind his head and his focus on the ceiling tiles. He hadn’t had anything further to do with the interview until August rose to leave. Then Doren had stopped, spun to the door where Diana had been seeing August out, and offered everybody a brilliant smile. “So, can I call you Auggie?”

By then, convinced of his failure to get the job and the idea that he’d only been brought in to be made fun of anyway, August had lifted his chin, set his jaw, and snapped, “Not if you expect an answer.”

Doren had laughed. Out loud. He was still chuckling when he’d waved August out. It had been Diana who’d gripped his hand and wished August a warm farewell.

“Thank you, August. We’ll talk to you soon.”

August told himself that had to have been a good sign. He hadn’t been totally dismissed, he’d been the first one called in, and nobody from security had shown up to make him hand over the magazine in a shameful display in front of everybody else. Of course, he also hadn’t had the balls to slide it out of his pocket and put it back either. So he was, at the end of the day, still a thief. A petty one, even.

He took the stairs to his apartment two at a time, stuck between hoping he’d get the job and wishing he’d never applied for it. Those guys all had to talk between one another. What if word got out that he’d made such a stupid mistake over something so insignificant?

The walls of the apartment building were paper thin, as his roommate Guy so fondly called them, and even from the entrance of the hallway August heard their apartment phone start ringing. While he knew he should probably run for it—no doubt Guy had forgotten his notes or his textbook or his goddamn student I.D. and needed August to immediately drop everything and rush the item or items over—he didn’t bother. In his mind at that moment, there was nothing of true importance that would be coming through the phone line. It was still annoying to hear the unexpected click instead of the beep of their ancient voice message machine as he opened the door. Then his cell phone started ringing.

It only took one look at the display to make August’s stomach drop. “Relax,” he mumbled, pawing at the phone to accept the call. “They’re probably just thanking everybody for their time.” He took a deep breath, and a disappointing, “Hello?” was whispered into the phone. He squeezed his eyes shut, cleared his throat. “I mean, can I…help…uhm, August speaking?”

Diana’s smooth laugh answered. “August, hi!” Her smile, bright enough to hear in her voice, was contagious. “I hope I didn’t catch you at a bad time. You aren’t driving, are you? I tried you at home but I couldn’t get you, and I absolutely couldn’t wait to touch base with you. I hope you don’t mind me calling you on your cell?”

August shook his head. “No, no. I’m good.” His hands started shaking. Could it be…?

“Excellent! So, I was talking to Doren and I have another question for you, if you don’t mind.”

“Oh.” August’s forehead relaxed. Okay, then. It was just another question. They’d forgotten something. “Absolutely, please, ask away.”

“Would you be available for travel this Sunday?”

The butterflies fluttered to life in his guts all over again. “I’m sorry? I don’t understand?”

“Which part? The Sunday or the travel?”

He laughed, a high-pitched, nervous sound. “I guess both?”

Diana replied in kind, but her laugh was bright. “August. You got the job! Can you start Sunday?”

August didn’t even try to find a chair. He sat down on the floor. Hard. “I—I did? Thanks. I guess…”

Another laugh. “You guess? Come on, August! I was expecting a little more drama at that.”

“Sorry, I’m not much of a drama person,” was all he could think to say. He was having a hard time catching the concept of them actually wanting him after the disaster he’d made of the interview. It had been a disaster after all, hadn’t it?

Diana’s voice dropped to a more serious tone. “Good. Seriously. I can’t even begin to tell you how grateful I am that you say that. Congratulations, August. I look forward to working with you. But I wasn’t kidding about my previous question. Doren really does need you to travel on Sunday if you’re going to take the job. Is that going to be too soon for you? Will you be able to pull it off?”

August lifted his eyebrows and tilted his head at no one. It probably wasn’t going to be hard to fit it into his schedule, what with his schedule pretty well consisting of nothing. “Yeah, I think I’ll be okay. But—and I’m sorry to question you—I just want to confirm, he really does expect me to travel with him? Doesn’t it make more sense to be working from the office?”

“Nope.” Diana’s voice was firm. “That’s not the kind of assistant Doren wants. We already have lots of office staff. Doren needs someone to be there in real time. He runs into a lot of issues on the road and he needs someone there to respond and correct things immediately. He needs someone to be there for him and him alone. Not planning the tour or arranging marketing, or whatever people seem to get sucked into doing when they’re here at the office. Which is one of the reasons why, as we discussed at the interview, that you will be working for Doren directly and not for the label. Are you comfortable with that, August? Because if you’re not, you need to tell me now, before you start. I don’t need to be stuck trying to make arrangements home for a suddenly unimpressed assistant around everything else we’ll be trying to do.”

August blinked hard. So fast—so unexpected. He’d actually got the job. Why? How? And why, he asked himself, shaking his head, was he sitting there asking metal questions while the job of a lifetime was being offered to him?

“Yes. Yes, of course that’s fine. It’s better than fine. That’s awesome. I guess I’ll meet you at the studio on Sunday then?”

“No, no,” she said quickly. “We’ll send the bus for you. I have your address here and it looks like you’re on our way out of the city anyway. Can you be out front of your building around seven P.M.?”

“Absolutely,” August nodded pointlessly. “Yes. Yes, I can. I will see you Sunday.”

“Wait!” Diana laughed, and August had to bring the phone back to his ear. “Don’t you want to know how long you’re going for? Or what your salary will be?”

August rolled his eyes, took another breath, and forced himself to act his age. “Of course. I’m sorry. I guess I’m just a little frazzled at the good news. Please, go ahead.”

There were too many details for August to remember them all. A comfortable salary, that would help, and they’d be gone for a while—at least six weeks, maybe twelve. But the more things Diana told him, the more things he tried to cram into his skull, the more they seemed to slip back out, lost forever. At the end of the call August wasn’t convinced he’d be able to tell his own mother when his first pay day was or what their first stop would be.

“Oh, and August?” Diana said. “I have…well,” she sighed. “I was asked by Doren to tell you something of the utmost importance.”

Just the mention of Doren’s name brought swirls of panic to August’s stomach. He gripped the receiver, anxious to hear the words that had come directly from Doren’s lips and for him alone. “Yes?”

“This is a quote, understand: ‘Tell him to dress casually. This is rock and roll, not accounting. Get rid of that—well, I don’t need to use his choice of adverb—get rid of that suit.’“ She paused, as if gauging August’s reaction. “Sorry.”

His response flew off his tongue out before he had a chance to stop it. “Wow. Opinionated much?” With a wince August caught the tip of his tongue and bit it. Had he really just done that? Did he question his new boss? To the man’s administrative manager, nonetheless? “I’m so sorry, Diana. I didn’t mean that.”

The phone crackled with Diana’s laughter. “Yes, you did. And you’re right. He’s opinionated. He’s a diva and at times, the man is an outright ass.” Her voice got quieter, more serious. “You sure you’re up to this, August?”

“Yes,” August breathed the word, relieved she hadn’t taken offense, and hopeful she wouldn’t mention it to anyone important. He mustered up as much confidence as he could manage. “Yes, I can do this. He’ll never know a better assistant than what he’s going to have with me. I’m one-hundred-percent positive.”

And he was. For the most part, anyway. He never did anything without giving it his all. Besides, it was Doren and Doren was a bona fide rock star. There was no way he was going to let himself walk away from an opportunity like this. How would he live with himself otherwise? He didn’t deserve to even consider a job in the music industry if he wasn’t prepared to deal with an asshole now and again. “You can count on me,” he finished, pouring on the exuberance.

“I hope so,” Diana said, “I really, really hope so.”