8. Jax
Jax
Iwalk away from the conference room, having barely taken anything in around me, as my heart pounds like a drum.
It’s a seven-story building, and Jones’s office is on the top floor, and now, as I walk through the workspace around me, I can only gawk at the design of the place. It’s not the first corporate office I’ve ever set foot in, but it’s definitely the fanciest.
There are twisting, colored pipes that drop from the ceiling at intervals, morphing into painted patterns on the walls and then merging into the carpet to form pathways across the floor.
Their skittering lines act as trails around each section, and everything is color-coded.
I have no idea which color pertains to what, but it’s impressive.
All the monitors are curved, glowing pale blue and white as I walk by. No one here looks like they work for a chain of nightclubs, though.
Everyone’s polished and pressed, and a lot of the men are in expensive-looking suits, as if they all model themselves on looking like their boss. I’m not complaining. I love a tailored look myself and always wear something similar at the club, either a corset or a vest, depending on my mood.
As I get back to the elevators, the carpet runs out, and I walk across a polished marble hallway that looks more like a fitness studio than a lobby. The black-and-white reception desk has semicircular tiles along the front, like dozens of eyes watching me.
I walk confidently up to the desk, meeting the gaze of a young guy with platinum-blonde hair and a septum piercing. His afro is cropped tight to his head and he flashes me a bright smile.
“Hey there,” he says, “did I just call security on you? Some psycho crashed a board meeting wearing a leather jacket.”
I hesitate, unsure if I should admit the truth, fearful that he’ll just get the security guards back.
“I needed a job, so I decided to demand one,” I say, putting both hands on the top of the desk. “The gamble paid off because I’m hired.”
“Holy shit, really?” he asks, chuckling low in his throat. “Oh my god, that’s brilliant. Well, you’ll need a pass for the building, then, but I can only authorize that when I get your contract from HR.”
“Where’s HR? I’ll go there now. Also, where’s Gray Jones’s office?”
He stops moving, turning to look at me more closely. Then his smile grows even wider.
“Wait, are you the new EA he’s been looking to hire? That’s awesome. The last woman who worked for him was a total snob and wouldn’t speak to me except through email. I have a feeling you and I are going to get along great.”
“If you’re the man who gets me access to the building, I’m your best friend for life.”
He chuckles. “I’m Vincent. Vince.”
“Jacqueline. Jax. Nice to meet you.”
“Mr. Jones’s office is at the end of this floor on the right. He’s got a dark green door. You can’t miss it.”
“Thanks.”
“Once you get your contract over to me, I’ll get you set up. That guy over there with the red shirt? That’s Bruce, he’ll give you a guest account so you can log into the computer.”
“You’re a life saver, Vince.”
I leave him giggling to himself and head toward the IT guy. Bruce is probably no older than nineteen. He goes crimson when I ask for a login, but he’s extremely efficient, and within five minutes, I have everything I need. I flash him a smile as I continue to my desk.
Vince was right: the office I’m looking for is impossible to miss, filling the entire back portion of the floor.
There’s a desk right outside it, with a Mac computer on top and zero clutter. A printer is situated next to it, humming quietly to itself as it prints copies for someone on the floor.
I park myself in the chair, double-check the login, and sign-in. The Jones & Co. logo pops up on the screen, and I allow myself a grateful sigh of relief. I took a huge risk coming here, but the gamble appears to have paid off.
My lips thin as I get out my cell and reluctantly call Pippa. When she picks up, she’s just as pissed as I expected her to be.
“You did what?” she says when I relay the events of the morning.
“I walked into a board meeting and told him to hire me, and he has.”
There is a long agonizing silence, and I wonder whether she might call the cops on me.
“You have some balls on you, I’ll give you that,” she says eventually, and I can hear keys clicking through the phone. “He said he’s giving you a trial day? I’m excited to see how fast you fail.”
“I’m not going to fail.”
“And yet you have no idea what he wants, or what he likes. If you hadn’t blown up at me yesterday and sulked your way out of my office, I could have explained that to you.”
“You told me I wasn’t his type. Clearly, you were wrong.”
Jax, would you shut the fuck up for once?
Pippa scoffs. “You’re in over your head, Jax, and you’ll realize it soon enough. But while you work for Mr. Jones, you represent my agency, is that understood? I don’t know you, and I haven’t vetted you, I’ll be running a background check on you today. One misdemeanor, one fuck up, and you’re out.”
“I’ve worked at nightclubs for most of my adult life,” I say lightly. “I work hard, I pay attention, and I take things seriously.”
“Hm. Well, I guess that’s a start. Let’s hope you know your way around a cock, too.”
I lick my lips as I recall the size of the cock in question. It looked impressive through his pants.
Pippa sighs, some of the tension leaving her voice.
“To be honest, we’ve struggled to find a woman who’ll stick with Mr. Jones. All you need to do is follow his instructions, and if you do well, the money will be excellent. You get five grand for a successful ‘interview’ though you don’t deserve it, and we’ll transfer that to you today.”
Holy shit. Jackpot.
“Great, thanks.”
Right after I get off the phone, Mr. Jones comes back, his face like thunder when he sees me at my desk.
“Still here, then?” he barks at me, and I stiffen, wondering whether he’s about to ask me to go into his office and fuck him. “I don’t want to be disturbed for the rest of the day. Deal with them.”
He waves vaguely in the direction of the entire office and walks through the green door ahead of me. I catch a brief glimpse of a desk, a huge window, and a sculpture of a pair of dice. Then the door swings shut, and he’s gone.
Rising, I head straight to HR to get my contract signed and processed before he can fire me.
I have one day to prove myself. Just keep your damn mouth shut.
I’m not gone more than fifteen minutes, but when I come back, my heart sinks.
A bald man is standing just inside Mr. Jones’s office, and I think I recognize him from the conference room. He has a monotone voice that I can hear from across the office, and when Mr. Jones sees me, his irritated expression sours even further.
I had one job: to keep the world away from him for the remainder of the day, and I’ve failed before I’ve even begun.
Well, I’m either fired or I’m about to be. Might as well seal the deal one way or the other.
“Do you have an appointment?” I ask, walking up to the guy as if he’s a problematic customer at the club and I need to get rid of him.
He turns to me mid-sentence, eyes widening as he runs them over my figure.
“Excuse me?”
“Do you have an appointment?” I ask again. “Mr. Jones doesn’t want to be disturbed for the remainder of the afternoon. If you have something you need him to review, you can send it to me. Jacqueline Jenson.”
“This is an urgent matter—”
“No, it isn’t,” I say coldly, using a tactic of Flynn’s and dropping my voice to a low murmur.
“If it were urgent, Mr. Jones would have told me he needed to meet with you, and he didn’t.
So that means you’re disturbing him unnecessarily.
Please come back later or send me the details, and I’ll inform him myself. ”
The guy looks to Jones like I’m completely insane, but when I glance at my new boss, he’s already stepped back from the doorway, the corner of his mouth turning up just a little.
“Gray, are you seriously—”
“You heard her, Devan. This will have to wait. Send it to Jacqueline, and she’ll make sure I review it when I have time.”
Then he closes the door in Devan’s face. I look back at the man. He must be in his late forties, with a mottled redness across his cheeks that suggests he likes to drink. Slowly, the redness intensifies as he puffs out his chest. He looks as if he wants to punch me.
“Didn’t you just start today?” he snaps.
“Yes, sir,” I say with a falsely reverent tone.
“Do you want to work for a second day? Because I’m the CFO and I pay your salary.”
I wonder whether he knows what Sterling House is and what I’ve been hired to do. Maybe Jones handles all that privately. I couldn’t care less as long as the money lands in my account.
“That sounds like an important job,” I say coolly. “You should probably get back to it.”
He turns even redder and spins away from me, muttering under his breath as he gets out his phone and starts jabbing at the screen.
I imagine my time here is going to be limited, considering that I’ve already pissed off my boss, the agency I work for, and the guy who signs my paycheck.
But then, I’ve never lived an easy life.