“I was trying to send you a picture that I took on my vacation,” she said. “I wasn’t wearing anything but a bikini bottom.”
“I’m expecting a call from the Rush Estate this morning.” I refused to continue this conversation. “Can you make sure it gets routed to my second line, so I can record it, please?”
“The picture made me look like a supermodel,” she said. “I know you used to date supermodels, right? According to all those Rumor Reports anyway.”
“I’m also expecting a file delivery from the new Berkley team. You have my permission to sign for it.”
“I think it’s time you date a woman who actually eats her French fries instead of a girl who just poses with them on social media, you know?” She swayed her hips and smiled. “I also think you should give someone close to you a chance for a change.”
I gave her a blank stare. We went through this shit every other day. If she wasn’t blatantly flirting with me, she was attempting (and failing) to make me jealous by pretending to talk to numerous men on the phone.
“The call from Rush better be on my line when it’s time,” I said. “And you’re lucky that your work is beyond reproach, Cynthia. Otherwise, I’d be forced to—”
“Punish me?” She smiled. “Can you tell me how you would do it?”
Jesus Christ. I walked away and shut the door to my office. She was the youngest receptionist in my company, and she was also the best. If she had a business degree or any law experience, I might’ve given her a try at being my executive assistant.
Then again, with her flirting becoming more reckless and blatant by the day, keeping her at a distance was probably best for the long term.
I took a seat at my desk and realized that there was no Colombian coffee waiting for me. No written notes about the meetings I needed to attend. No emails about why. In other words, my assistant was bullshitting, again.
Sighing, I opened my email to ask when I could expect my coffee and notes to arrive, but an email from my chief attorney appeared onscreen.
* * *
Subject: Your Newest Assistant Is in My Office (Again)
Preston,
Please get here. Now.
George Tanner
Chief Attorney, Parker International
* * *
This email from George came like clockwork every other Friday, and the only thing that changed was which “new assistant” he was referring to. I’d gone through so many, that I called them all Taylor, since they never seemed to last long enough for me to learn their real names.
I walked to his office and spotted my latest Taylor sitting on the sofa. Dressed in a baggy blue suit that belonged in the nearest trash can, his eyes were red and puffy, and he looked as if he hadn’t slept in days.
“Tell Mr. Parker what you just told me,” George said, handing him a Kleenex. “Go on.”
The latest Taylor looked up at me and let out a long breath. “Mr. Parker, I am overworked and overwhelmed with everything I’m required to do for you, sir. I can’t eat, I can’t sleep, and I feel like this job is consuming my life.”
“You just started working here two weeks ago.”
“Let him finish, Preston,” George warned, then muttered under his breath, “We don’t need any trouble with Human Resources, do we?”
“I’m just—” Taylor sniffled. “I’m just trying so damn hard to make you happy and it’s never enough. My phone rings constantly, my email inbox is never under five hundred messages, and I don’t think you know my real name.”
I didn’t make a move to act like I did.
He wiped his face on his sleeve. “My girlfriend has to come home and listen to me cry about this job every night.”
“You still have a girlfriend after crying every night?”
George shot me a pointed look, and I crossed my arms.
“I appreciate the opportunity you’ve given me, but even with the high salary you offer, it’s not enough for me anymore.” He sniffled. “I am formally quitting as of today.”
“Most employees usually do this in writing via two weeks’ notice,” I said. “I don’t see why I needed to come up here and listen to your tears.”
“What Mr. Parker means to say is that he accepts your resignation.” George shook his head at me. “And because we want to make sure we’re on good footing for his next assistant, was there anything he ever did that made you uncomfortable? Anything we can improve on for next time?”
“Yes.” He nodded. “Last week, he made me update his personal cell phone.”
“Oh, the horror.” I looked at my watch.
“It was horrible, sir. The things that were said in some of those old messages, messages from so many different women … They’ve scarred me.”
“What exactly did these messages say?” George asked.
“Too much.” Taylor looked away from me. “My pussy misses you. How come you don’t come by and pound me with your cock anymore? You have the biggest cock I’ve ever swallowed—Can I swallow it again? I don’t think I’ve ever been fucked the way—”
“Okay, enough.” I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. “Thank you very much for all your work here at Parker International, Taylor. I’m sure you’ll be missed by no one.”
“My name is Jim. That’s exactly why I’m quitting.”
“You’re quitting because you’re incompetent.” I pulled out my phone and sent my standard Another One Bites the Dust email to HR. “You can pick up your exit packet and your final check in the basement.”
He leaned forward and gave George a hug—a hug that went on for several seconds longer than necessary, and then he headed to the door.
As soon as the door shut, George let out a breath. “Well, there goes my thinking that a Harvard man would be able to accomplish what so many of your previous let-downs couldn’t. Do you know that you’re the only CEO in the luxury hotel industry who can’t consistently say who your go-to EA is?”
“I only know that I’m the most successful CEO in the luxury hotel industry.” I walked over to the windows. “That’s all that matters at this point.”
“Whatever,” he said, clearing his throat, “before I even begin to address that never-ending issue, we need to discuss your latest amenity change.” He paced the room. “I don’t understand why you’ve decided to give away free gourmet breakfasts at some of your hotels. It’s not like you’re running a Hampton Inn.”
“The Hampton Inn doesn’t serve gourmet breakfast.”
“You know what I mean, Preston. Luxury hotels are branded luxury because of the fact that the guests pay for everything. The more stars and profit for us, the less free things for them.”
“It’s just an experiment,” I said. “It also seems to be working. Revenue is up by ten percent.”
“Well, hopefully, that’ll last longer than your next assistant.” He tossed me a bright blue folder.
“What’s this?”
“This is your newest executive assistant’s resume and intent letter,” he said. “I took the liberty of picking out the next one, and I can guarantee that she’ll last longer than a few months.”