Chapter 2 The Assistant
THE ASSISTANT
ELOISE
London Daily Times
“There is no need to panic,” says Royal Correspondent Leo Hayes. “The text messages look bad, but inside sources say the Queen is handling it. What the next steps are here, we do not know, but she will take it seriously.”
It seems there may be a reckoning awaiting Prince Duncan.
“He's been so spoiled,” Leo continued in this exclusive with the Daily Times.
“He needs to be put on a leash and reminded of all his responsibilities. Her Majesty deserves to retire, and new convention dictates that seventy-five is the typical age of retirement. It was expected she would announce her intention to abdicate to her son about this time, but that seems impossible now. Either she fixes this or she risks the entire institution.”
One hopes Her Majesty can fix this mess.
Jax shouted, “Ella, coffee, for fuck’s sake!”
I tried not to glare. I picked myself up and visited the espresso machine.
She wanted an Americano—her fourth of the fucking morning.
It was only nine. She treated me like her assistant, but I wasn’t.
I was a junior agent now and worked for the firm’s other partner, Abi Forrest. Abi was a saint.
Jaqueline Drummond was a bitch and a half.
“I will get you coffee.” I faked a cheerful tone. I passed Abi’s assistant, Myrtle.
“She’s on a roll today,” Myrtle said.
Her Geordie accent was in full force this morning. I was glad she was here to witness things.
I nodded, tamping the grounds.
“Now, Ella!” Jax barked sharply.
I ignored her shouting, grabbed the water, and dumped in the espresso shot. I wondered what it might take to poison someone. Could it be done easily? I contemplated googling it on the way to Jax’s desk but thought better.
“Here you are, Jax,” I spoke faux-cheerful.
“Brilliant. Abi will be late. The baby, you know?”
She said the last part as if being thirty-six weeks pregnant was no excuse.
Abi was due soon with her first baby. I had no idea what went into pregnancy but at twenty-five, I wasn’t convinced I wanted children and wasn’t about to find out.
And Abi’s pregnancy had been complicated.
Jax’s hand was forced to pick up the slack, but that wouldn’t happen.
Jax did little other than bitch about clients she hated and throw work at her junior employees.
So, I stepped in to placate clients and wear a dozen hats.
Her favorite, Maurice, was always left largely unscathed while I toiled.
I loathed my job but loved Abi. She had never been anything but good to me.
The problem began when she brought Jax on.
Things changed—and not for better. In my three years here, the last had been the most difficult.
Jax gave me panic attacks. I was actively in search of another position, but I felt guilty.
I didn’t want to leave while Abi was out with a baby.
I began to excuse myself, but Jax said. “No, stay. We have matters to attend to—big ones. You and Abi are requested on a VIP assignment. She’ll be here within the hour, and you will head there.”
“Oh?” I looked confused. “Oh… okay?”
“What, is that not good enough for you?”
“Nope. Sounds great,” I agreed.
I returned to my desk, wondering about the special assignment. Our PR firm was the best band of fixers in the city, which was primarily why I stayed. If I wanted to build my own outfit someday, I’d learn from the best today. Abi was who you needed on your side when shit got real.
Was it a footballer who got caught with a model in a pregnancy scandal? Or maybe an MP who had a lovechild? I scrolled the headlines, looking at updates to the biggest day’s news—The Prince of Wales’s conversation with his ex. It was spicy! It made him look like a complete asshole.
“I’d guess it were him,” Myrtle looked over my shoulder. “Your secret assignment.”
“Yeah?” I asked. “Well, I am sure they have their own people to manage it. I guess we’ll see.”
Abi phoned, “Hiya, I’m back. Grab the files I sent Myrtle a moment ago and come down to the car. I’m in the garage just waiting. We can zip over there.”
Though details remained unclear, I packed my things and left. I found her waiting.
“You got your ID right?” She asked.
I nodded. Oh, so it was definitely an MP.
“Great. Well, that will do. We are headed to Buckingham Palace. Buckle up!”
Buckle up, indeed.