Without Limits: A BWWM Collection of Passion and Desire, page 49
So instead of getting home at a reasonable time, I had to wait around until she got off from her work. I had to hang around my job for an extra hour. It was a ghost town here at Trubeau Technologies.
Instead of sitting in the lobby or the cafeteria I decided to stay in the mailroom. I didn’t want anyone to see me here after hours. I felt kind of stupid just hanging around. I knew it was all in my head but I thought people would know I didn’t have a husband or a boyfriend. Maybe they would ask me why I didn’t call an Uber. Who knows? I think too much. It’s my business, not theirs. So, who cares?
I had my head down in my cell phone when I looked up and saw him standing above me. It was Jerry Fletcher. I made sure I remembered the name of every employee I had come into contact with since I started this job.
Jerry worked upstairs somewhere. He was a very thin man in his fifties. He was losing his hair but he didn’t seem to care. He came down to the mailroom a few times a week but he never said more than good morning to me. He only talked to Martin Turner, my stuper-visor, I mean supervisor.
I wasn’t sure what Jerry did at the company but I knew he was an important person at Trubeau. This company had only employed me for six months so I was quite sure he didn’t even know my name.
My area, the mailroom was in the basement and the big wigs never came down here. They just sent their secretaries to handle whatever packages they were shipping or picking up. I didn’t know anything about the mail operation although I worked in the mailroom. I was a purchaser. I made sure there were enough printer paper, staplers and office supplies nice and handy.
I hoped I wasn’t in trouble. Why would I be? I couldn’t recall doing anything I wasn’t supposed to be doing. I was always a model employee at every job I ever held. If he was looking for Martin he was out of luck. Martin rarely ever stayed a minute after five.
I watched as Mr. Fletcher’s eyes scanned the room. There wasn’t much to see in the basement.
“Hello.” He spoke first.
“Hello, Mr. Fletcher, did you need something?” I stood because it felt strange to be sitting.
“Yes, maybe. Are you the last one here?”
Clearly, I was. “Yes, it’s just me. My car is in the shop. I’m waiting for my ride to come pick me up.” I didn’t want to tell all my business but I was feeling a little nervous all alone in the mailroom with Mr. Fletcher. I needed to give him an explanation for why I was the only one still at work after six.
“Huh, well it’s a good thing for me that you had a little car trouble.” He smiled warmly but I couldn’t return his smile because I didn’t know where he was going with his odd comment. “You’re name is Robin right?”
Shit, he knows my name. “Yes, Robin MacDowell.”
“How long have you been working here?”
“Just about six months.”
“Things working out so far?”
“Yes.”
“I’m here in the mailroom because I was hoping someone would still be hanging around and supervisor Turner isn’t here?”
“No, he’s already gone home for the day.” We already established that I’m alone. “Did you want to leave him a message?” I didn’t know what good it would do. It was Friday. The work-week was over.
“No, that won’t be necessary. Maybe you can help me.”
“I can try.”
“One of our employees quick her job without any notice.”
“That’s not good.”
“Terrible actually. I have this position that I must fill as soon as possible.”
“Oh.”
“I guess I can offer it to you since you’re the only one here.”
“Okay, am I qualified?”
“I’m sure you are. The position has weird hours. I know I’m not supposed to ask this but do you have children but—?”
“No, I don’t have any children.”
“That’s good, only because this job would take up some of your free time. It has unconventional hours.”
I had nothing but time. I wasn’t in a relationship. I didn’t even have any prospects. I stopped going to the library book club meetings months ago. I was free as the breeze.
“Robin, let me cut to the chase.”
“Do you know Andrew Trubeau?
“The man that owns this company?” Why would I know him? Hello, I work in the mailroom.
“Yes, he runs and owns Trubeau Technologies.”
“I’ve never met him.”
“He needs a personal assistant. The last assistant quit without proper notice.” He said that already.
“That was very unprofessional.” I didn’t know what else to say.
“Yes, it was, but Mr. Trubeau does have a hard time keeping assistants.”
Why? “I’ve never been a personal assistant before.”
“It’s technically not hard at all. You get his coffee. You get his lunch. You shadow him when he has meetings. You take notes. You basically just do what he asks.”
“Sounds simple enough.”
“It is. It’s not the work. It’s more of rather or not you match up, work ethics and personality wise. Normally, Mr. Trubeau has two personal assistants. There’s Sharon Rudd, she is more of an administrative assistant. You would be a runner, an on-body personal assistant. You would work closely with Sharon but you would probably have more personal contact with Mr. Trubeau. Sharon works nine to five from her desk. Your hours would be up to Mr. Trubeau. Is this something you would be interested in?”
Not really. But I couldn’t say that. “Yes, I’m interested.”
“Good, very good. So this is a salary position. You’ll make eighty-two thousand per year. Full health benefits, life insurance and a few other perks.”
I tried to stay stoic when he rattled off the salary amount. Eighty-two thousand dollars was almost triple what I was currently making at this company. I was screaming on the inside but playing it all the way cool on the outside.
“There’s no probation period because you’re already an employee of the company. It’s like a promotion.”
It was more than a promotion. It’s a life changer for me when it comes to salary. All I had was an old car and an expensive apartment. I wanted to be a homeowner. If I could do this job I might end up getting my little boring life in order.
“I’m definitely onboard.”
“Great, I can get all the paperwork together and you can start on Monday.”
“What time do I start?”
“For the first day go straight to Trubeau’s office. Be there at eight A.M. I will send an email to Sharon Rudd. She will have all of your paperwork. She’ll take over and tell you everything you need to know Monday morning.”
“Where is Mr. Trubeau’s office?”
“He’s on the tenth floor, corner office.”
“Thank you, thank you for the opportunity.”
“It’s not a problem. I actually think you’d be a good fit for Mr. Trubeau’s team.”
“Thank you.”
My cell phone buzzed. I knew it had to be my mother. I didn’t look down at it. I didn’t want to be rude to Jerry. He had just given me an upstairs job, right out of the blue. He had just put money in my empty pockets.
So many things in life are random. I just happened to be at the right place at the right time. Running around getting coffee can’t be that hard.
It was nice to have good news. I couldn’t wait to tell my mother about my fantastic promotion. I was moving out of the mailroom. I kind of thought I would be here forever.
“Is that your phone?” Jerry inquired. He could hear it buzzing.
“Yes, it’s probably my ride.”
“Oh, by all means, take the call. I will see you on Monday. Just report to Sharon Rudd on the tenth floor.”
He said that already. “I will be there. Thanks for this opportunity.”
“Thank you for being onboard. See you on Monday.”
Jerry left me standing alone in the mailroom. I wanted to scream but I had a fear of hidden cameras. I held my excitement and called my mother back. She was waiting in the parking lot. I grabbed my purse and left the mailroom. I so hoped this worked out. I needed this.
Chapter Two
My weekend was pure bliss. I picked my car up from the shop on Saturday afternoon. I was five hundred and thirty-two dollars poorer because of it. I didn’t care as much as I should’ve. That was because I had a new job and my first check would make up for the repairs.
Saturday night I went out for dinner and drinks with my close friend Michelle. I helped my mother in her garden on Sunday. I was pretty excited when I woke up Monday morning. I made sure I got eight hours of sleep before my big first day.
My confidence cloak was on and I was feeling good. My hair was blow-dried straight. I had it down. It hung right at my shoulders. I wore minimal makeup and I tried to make it look natural.
When I arrived it was just as Jerry said. Sharon had all of my paperwork. I signed all the standard documents. I even signed a non-disclosure agreement. I knew this was standard with bug companies. I didn’t think I would have any corporate secrets to sell but who knew what I would be exposed to as a personal assistant.
Sharon Rudd was an older woman. She appeared to be in her late fifties. She had dark blonde hair she had pulled back in a bun. She looked like she belonged in a library instead of this office. It wasn’t an insult. She just seemed very nice and helpful. She was warm to me. I really appreciated that because being new usually sucked. Jerry stepped into the office. I’m sure to make sure I showed up. I could tell he was relieved to see me.
Sharon’s office was the first room you came to once you exited the elevator. I had my own smaller office down the hall. I had a desk in the mailroom but it was in a huge room with no privacy and with nine other people.
I only had a few minutes to sit behind my desk and gaze out my window before I had to go meet and greet my new boss.
Andrew Trubeau was thirty-two and a self-made millionaire. He was also easy on the eyes. He acquired a few small companies, combined them and made Trubeau Technologies. I Googled my boss. There weren’t many things online about him. I knew he wasn’t married and he gave to various charities. He also made Forbes Top 500 most successful American Companies list.
I was a little scared and excited about my new job. I wanted to impress the boss because I wanted to keep this job. It paid three times what I was making in the mailroom. Something I couldn’t really stop thinking about.
I was dressed to impress in my dark gray Calvin Klein suit and matching pumps. I felt like I could do anything. I strolled down to the end of the hall. The boss’ office took up one side of the building on the tenth floor. It was a bit more than just a corner office. His door was open so I walked into the spacious room.
The boss’ office was huge, bigger than my entire one bedroom apartment. His office was decorated like it was straight out of Elle Décor. The luxurious space was spotless and astatically pleasing to the eye. It must be nice to have money like this. I knew I had the right office because this floor only had a few offices and a large conference room. Where was Mr. Trubeau?
“Who the fuck are you?”
My heart jumped at his booming voice.
There he was walking out of a door that I hadn’t even realized was there. Maybe it was a bathroom. He looked like his pictures, tall, White, with bright blue eyes and dark brown hair that was strategically disheveled. He was well dressed in a dark designer suit. He looked like a rich guy even with his five o’clock shadow.
“Hello, who the fuck are you?” He repeated his bad-mannered question.
“Robin MacDowell.” I decided against extending my hand since he was being a Grade A, Whole milk, jackass.
“Why are you in my office?”
“Jerry Fletcher sent me. He, ah, hired me.” I stumbled over my words.
“He sent you?”
He snickered, as he looked me up and down. I didn’t know why he held so much disdain. I looked presentable. I had on my best office suit. My hair was clean, neat, flat and office acceptable. I was pretty damn cute today. He’d better recognize.
I decided to ignore his rudeness. I needed this coinage and I wasn’t going to let some rich prick rattle me. “Yes sir, he sent me.”
“Why would he send you to me?” He pointed at me and pointing is rude.
“I’m sure he had a good reason. He said your assistant quit without notice.”
“Huh, that was a week ago.”
“Mr. Trubeau, do you have something for me to do?”
“Don’t get comfortable. I don’t think I want you here.”
“Really, I haven’t messed up yet.”
“Yet.” He raised one of his dark eyebrows.
“I already work here. I came from another department.”
“Is that right. I’ve never seen you. Where did you work?”
“The mailroom.”
“Is that in the basement?”
“Yes, sir.” I’m sure he knew that already. Maybe he didn’t.
“I don’t care. I don’t think you’ll fit in up here.”
“I don’t understand. What’s the issue?” Especially because I hadn’t even spilled coffee on him or misplaced an important document or forgot to schedule an appointment.
“The issue is—”
I knew it wasn’t because I was a woman. All of his previous assistants were women. Sharon told me that much earlier.
Fuck it! I might as well state this obvious. There are only four point five minorities working at this company. “Is the issue that I’m Black?”
“You would love that just so you could sue me for racial discrimination.”
“I’m not trying to sue anybody. I’m just trying to do my job.”
“And what’s that?”
I didn’t understand his hostility or his dumb questions. “Jerry told me I was going to fill the position of your on-body personal assistant.”
“I’m going to have a talk with Jerry.”
“In the meantime, do you have a task for me?” I nervously smoothed my hands down my skirt.
He paced the floor as I waited for his answer. “You can leave now if you’re weak. I’m a tyrant. I’m very demanding. I’m an asshole. If you can’t cut it, you can leave now.”
I need this check. How does the asshole take his coffee? “I’ve had lots of experience working with tyrannical, demanding assholes.”
He chuckled and it made him less maniacal. “If you do anything I don’t like you’re out of a job.”
“I’m fired?”
“Yes, that’s what it means to be out of a job.”
That’s drastic. “If this doesn’t work out, I can’t just go back to the mailroom?”
“You would do that?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Don’t call me sir. Call me Trubeau.”
“Okay, Mr. Trubeau.”
We both just stood there staring at each other. He hadn’t fired me or dismissed me so I was pretty much a lady in waiting. Or a prisoner of a stupid office war.
“So what’s your name again?”
“Robin MacDowell.”
“The first thing you need to do is wear better clothes.” I couldn’t help but to look down at my attire.
“There’s nothing wrong with my clothes.”
He raised a lone eyebrow. “If I say there’s something wrong with your clothing then there is something wrong.”
“Okay, my clothes are hideous. What would you like for me to wear?”
“I didn’t say they were hideous.”
“No, you didn’t. My mistake.”
“You’ve met me. Do you think you will last two weeks as my assistant?”
“Yes, I know I can.” I’ll just go cry into my pillow every night.
“Positivity, that’s a start.”
“I’m going to give you my company credit card. You’ll need it to make purchases for me. First, I need you to buy clothes that make you look like you belong at this company— like you belong with me. I need you to leave the office and go to the mall. Oakbrook Mall is just a few blocks away. You need to buy two weeks worth of clothing. You said you can last two weeks, correct?”
“Yes, I can.”
“We’ll see. Buy enough outfits to last that long. I don’t want to see you in the same thing twice within the two-week period. So make sure you buy enough items to cover ten days. No, make it fourteen days. I’m not that picky about the shoes but they have to be heels. A woman your age in flats looks like she doesn’t care. The appearance of my company is very important to me. You don’t have to buy ten pairs of shoes if you don’t want to. It’s entirely up to you. You have three hours to shop for yourself. I need my lunch on my desk at exactly one o’clock. I’m not a vegan. I’m not a vegetarian and I eat gluten. You can pick my lunch today only. It’s your first day. Don’t fuck it up.”
“I won’t fu— mess it up. Are there any stores you prefer that I shop for the clothes?”
“Neiman’s, Lord, Macy’s, Sak’s, whatever women’s designers are at the mall? Get a few handbags to match and a fifteen-inch black laptop bag as well.”
“What is the spending limit?”
He chuckled. “Do you really have time to look at price tags? You have three hours to buy ten, fourteen days worth of clothing and then you have to hightail it back here with my lunch, food you hope I will enjoy.”
My heart was doing cartwheels inside of my chest. He named every expensive store in the mall. It sounded like I didn’t have a spending limit. There must be a catch. He’s probably going to say I stole his credit card and went on a shopping spree. That’s just too sadistic. He couldn’t have time for that idiotic bullshit.
When the job is over I probably have to give the clothes back. That would be stupid. I heard things about Andrew Trubeau but I never heard anyone refer to him as stupid or cheap.
Mr. Trubeau reached inside the top drawer of his desk and handed the company credit card across the desk.
