Chapter 1 #3
I finished her braid, wrapping the elastic around the end, and dropped a kiss on top of her head. "That's my girl."
Our apartment wasn't much. Two bedrooms, a living room that doubled as everything else, a kitchen barely big enough to turn around in. The linoleum was peeling in the corners, and the radiator made clanking sounds every time the heat kicked on.
But it was ours. No one could take it away.
At 7:15, I walked Zoe down the hall to Dani's apartment. Mid-winter recess meant no school this week, which meant I was relying on Dani more than usual.
Dani opened the door before I could knock. She was still in her pajamas, coffee mug in hand, her locs pulled up into a pineapple on top of her head. Behind her, I could see Joey on the living room floor, surrounded by a fortress of Lego bricks.
Zoe's face lit up. "Joey!"
"Zoe!" He waved enthusiastically. "Come look, I'm building a spaceship!"
Zoe looked up at me with pleading eyes. I nodded, and she was off like a shot, her earlier nightmare completely forgotten in the face of Legos and her best friend.
Dani watched her go with a soft smile, then turned back to me. The smile faded slightly. "You look tired."
I was always tired. That was just my default state now. "I'm fine."
"Mmhmm." She didn't believe me. She never believed me. But she also never pried, which was one of the many reasons I loved her. "What time will you be back?"
"I don’t have a shift tonight, so I should be home by six-thirty at the latest."
Her eyebrows rose. "A night off? What's the occasion?"
"The schedule just worked out that way." I shrugged. "I'm not complaining."
"You shouldn't be. You need the rest." She took a sip of her coffee. "She'll be fine here. You know I love having her."
I didn't know how to respond to that, so I just nodded. Kissed Zoe goodbye, made her promise to behave, and headed for the stairs.
My car was waiting in the street by the building, looking even more pathetic than usual in the gray February morning. The Civic had seen better days. Better years, really.
The passenger door didn't open from the outside, the check engine light had been on for six months, and there was a sound coming from somewhere in the engine that I'd been ignoring because I couldn't afford to get it fixed.
But it started when I turned the key. That was all I needed.
The drive to Manhattan took forty-five minutes with traffic. I used the time to run through my mental checklist. Pick up Zoe by six-thirty. Make dinner. Give her a bath. Read her a story. Maybe get five hours of sleep before we do it all again tomorrow.
The Dubois Corporation headquarters rose into the sky like a middle finger made of glass and steel.
Forty-something floors of corporate power, reflecting the morning sun so brightly it made my eyes water.
Every time I walked through those doors, I felt small.
Smaller than usual, which was saying something, given that I was barely five-two in my best shoes.
I'd been working here for eight months. I clocked in at 8:52 AM. Eight minutes early. I was always early. Being late was a luxury I couldn't afford. I was heading for Mr. Huang's office on the fourteenth floor, already running through the day's tasks in my head, when someone stepped into my path.
"Ms. Young?"
I stopped. The woman in front of me was tall and blonde and wearing a black skirt suit. Her name tag said Jennifer Holloway, Human Resources.
"We need to talk."
My stomach dropped. Nothing good ever followed those words. I ran through everything I'd done in the past week, looking for mistakes. I couldn't think of any errors, but that didn't mean they didn't exist. That didn't mean someone hadn't decided I was expendable.
I followed Jennifer Holloway to a small conference room on the twelfth floor. Beige walls, beige carpet, a table that sat six but held only two chairs. She gestured for me to sit. I sat.
"Ms. Young." She folded her hands on the table. Her nails were perfect, painted a muted pink. "There's been some restructuring in Mr. Huang's department. They're consolidating positions, and unfortunately, they no longer need a dedicated secretary for his office."
The room tilted slightly. I gripped the edge of my chair, keeping my face neutral through sheer force of will.
No. No, no, no. I couldn't lose this job. I couldn't. The bar alone wasn't enough. I had rent, utilities, Zoe's school supplies, and the grocery bill that kept climbing, no matter how carefully I budgeted. I had the thousand dollars from last night, but that would only stretch so far. I had…
"However."
I blinked. Jennifer Holloway was still talking.
"There's an opening elsewhere in the company. Given your performance reviews, we'd like to offer you a reassignment rather than a termination."
The breath I hadn't realized I was holding rushed out of me. "Reassignment?"
"To the executive floor. You'd be working as an executive secretary for the new Vice President of Acquisitions." She checked her paperwork. "Starting today, if you're amenable."
"Who would I be working for?"
Jennifer Holloway glanced at her notes. "Mr. Xavier Dubois."
Dubois. Like the building. Like the logo on my paycheck. I didn’t know much about Xavier, but I’d heard things about him. Scary, nightmare boss, mean, uncooperative, amongst some other choice words which I decided not to repeat.
"Is there a problem?" Jennifer Holloway was watching me with that professional non-expression, the one that gave nothing away.
"No. No problem." I straightened in my chair. "I accept. Thank you."
She smiled and slid a folder across the table. "Excellent. Here's the information you'll need. Twenty-seventh floor. Your desk is outside Mr. Dubois's office."
I took the folder. My hands weren't shaking, but it was a near thing. I took the elevator, my heart in my throat.
The executive floor was different.
I felt it the moment the elevator doors opened. The air itself seemed different up here—cooler, cleaner, scented with something subtle and expensive.
The carpet was thick enough to muffle footsteps. The art on the walls looked like actual art, not the mass-produced prints that decorated the lower floors.
And the silence. That was the strangest part.
The mid-level offices were a constant buzz of activity.
Phones ringing, keyboards clacking, people talking over cubicle walls.
Up here, everyone moved with a kind of hushed efficiency, speaking in low voices, walking softly, like they were afraid to disturb something.
I found my desk outside a corner office with floor-to-ceiling windows. I set down my bag and tried not to feel like an imposter.
The office itself was empty. The door stood open, revealing a large desk, a leather chair, and more windows. No personal items. No photographs, books, or any sign that someone actually worked here.
I settled into my chair and tried to figure out the phone system, which was approximately four hundred times more complicated than anything I'd used before. The manual was thick enough to be used as a weapon. I was halfway through the section on transferring calls when I heard voices approaching.
Two women from the cluster of desks nearby. Assistants, probably, for other executives. They were walking toward the break room, not bothering to lower their voices.
"I heard he only got the job because of his grandmother." The first one, a brunette in a silk blouse. "Nepotism at its finest."
The second one snorted. She was shorter, rounder, with an expensive-looking haircut. "He's not even really family, though. Not legitimate. You know how that whole situation is."
"Oh, I know. My friend in HR said…" The brunette lowered her voice, but I could still hear her. "...he's a complete mess. A playboy. This is going to be a disaster. Give it two weeks before he screws something up and gets shuffled somewhere else."
"Like the last three assistants?" The shorter one laughed. "I almost feel sorry for whoever got assigned to him. They said he's impossible to work for."
"Maybe. But have you seen him?" The brunette fanned herself dramatically. "I mean, if I had to deal with a nightmare boss, at least let him be pretty."
"Jane!"
"What? I'm just saying. The man has a nice face… among other things."
They moved on, their voices fading around the corner. I kept my eyes on the phone manual. My expression stayed neutral.
The moment they left, I heard another set of footsteps on the thick carpet. I looked up from my computer, ready to introduce myself, and the words died in my throat.
What was the guy from the bar doing here?
I recognized him immediately, even though he looked different in the daylight. His hair was the same, dark and disheveled. His jaw was shadowed with stubble, like he hadn't bothered to shave this morning, or maybe like he'd calculated exactly how much stubble looked attractively careless.
He was wearing a suit today. Charcoal gray, well-cut, expensive. His tie was slightly loosened, his top button undone.
He walked past my desk without a glance and toward the office.
Wait… he was Xavier Dubois?
I clenched my hands in my lap. How was that even possible? I mean, it was. He was certainly rich enough to be the VP of a company. But this company? The one I happened to work at? Why was this happening to me?
I watched him push open his office door, toss his coat over a chair, and drop into the seat behind his desk like he was exhausted already. I couldn’t imagine why. The day had just begun.
He didn't recognize me. Of course, he didn't. Why would he? I was just a bartender. I was used to being forgettable. Sometimes it was an advantage.
I turned back to my computer and got to work.
The morning passed slowly. Xavier stayed in his office with the door mostly closed, emerging only once for coffee. I answered phones, sorted through the disaster of a filing system left by whoever had occupied this desk before me, and tried to learn the particular rhythms of the executive floor.