“I will,” I tell her and then look down and then up. “Thank you so much for the talk.”
She doesn’t say anything else as she turns and walks away. Leaning forward, I look at the list I started before I walked into the meeting and crumple it, throwing it in the garbage, and then I start gathering information on Carter. A list that I started this morning that will no doubt be shoved into someone else’s workload now that I have my next assignment.
By the time I look up, the sun is long gone, and no one is left in the office. With my stomach growling at me, I grab my jacket and make my way home to grab some dinner and go to bed, hoping upon hope that tomorrow looks a little brighter than it does today.
The next day, I walk into the office before anyone else. I gave up on sleeping at four thirty this morning and decided to start the day early. I’m just hoping I don’t crash before the meeting. I even went to the gym and put in an hour and a half on the treadmill. I press the button in the elevator to take me to the thirty-seventh floor. Looking down at my black Louboutin stilettos, I take a deep breath. How ironic that I’m dressed for a funeral. I’m just praying it’s not my own. My black pencil skirt falls right below my knees, and I paired it with my black long-sleeved shirt with white polka dots. The wrists are tight, making the sleeves flow a little.
When the elevator doors slide open, I’m not surprised that no one is here yet because it’s only seven thirty in the morning. I put my Starbucks coffee on my desk and then take off my black jacket and put it on the back of my chair. Pulling out my chair, I have a seat and start the computer. I grab my notes and the reports I did on him yesterday, and the first thing I do is google Carter’s name and then set up a Google alert for him on my phone.
I scroll and see that he was out and about last night. The picture of him leaving a Hollywood hotspot three hours ago fills the screen. I scroll through them, seeing him arriving in gray jeans and a red, white, and blue plaid shirt with a blue jacket. Then there is a picture of him leaving the hotspot wearing a white T-shirt, holding the jacket and shirt in one of his hands while his other hand holds a redhead’s hand. Her skirt is barely there, and her shirt looks as though it’s buttoned wrong. He smirks at the camera guy, making me groan.
“You’re here early.” I hear Sylvia behind me. I turn and see that she is wearing another pant suit, this one gray with capris, and she is wearing a white shirt with a pink jacket. “Let me put my things down, and we can start right away,” she says. Turning around, she walks into her office and puts down her big Louis Vuitton purse in one of the chairs facing her desk. She opens the shades in her office, allowing the sun to come shining in. “We should use the conference room and get things set up,” she says loudly. Sitting behind her desk, she picks up her stack of messages. She is still old school. She wants all messages written on little pink papers, and right next to her desk is a shredder that she uses as soon as she finishes with the message. My phone buzzes on my desk, and I pick it up and it’s Sylvia. “I have to return a couple of calls, so I’ll buzz you when I’m ready,” she says and hangs up. I start on another list of things that we should do. When she finally buzzes me, I grab my coffee, my pen, and the folder that I started for him.
We walk to the conference room together, and she pushes open the door. We sit down at the table and toss ideas around until it’s a little after three. “You really did your research,” she says, leaning back in her chair. I stare at the notepad in front of her. She’s taken so many notes that she filled four sheets.
I shake my head. “I had to see what I was up against.” I tap my pen on my own pad. “Honestly, I don’t think this will ever happen.”
“Define this?” Sylvia asks, then doesn’t wait for me to answer. “If you are referring to you being able to tame the biggest social risk we’ve ever had, I am ready to bet you that you will not only make it happen, but you will also have him eating out of the palm of your hand.”
My eyebrows come together in confusion. “I don’t understand.”
“Do you know you’ve been here for five months, and you have everyone under your spell? You are social, you are nice, and you make people come to you and respect you.” She laughs. “I was on the fence with you, but when I saw the way you were with everyone here, I knew if anyone could do it”—she points at me—“it would be you.” She shakes her head, laughing a bit. “Now me, on the other hand, I would not do well. I would lock that asshole in a room and bring him out only when I needed him.”
I laugh silently. “You saw all that.” She has been the hardest nut to crack since I’ve been here. I’ve befriended everyone but her.
“I did.” She pushes away from the table. “I see everything. Now go get something to eat and get ready because he isn’t going to cave easily. The saying a leopard doesn’t change his spots means you have to be ready to prove them wrong.” I nod at her, and she walks out of the conference room, leaving me alone with my own notes.
I get up and run down to grab another coffee. Carter will be here at four and Sylvia will buzz me when it’s time for me to come in. I don’t know why I’m so nervous. Maybe it’s just the biggest opportunity of my life. Maybe because if I actually achieve this, it will put me up there and my name on the map. I’m walking back in when my phone rings. I look down at it in my hand and see it’s my mom.
“Hey, Mom.” I answer the phone, walking back to the office and enjoying the little heat that I’ve had today.
“Hey, sunshine.” I smile when she uses my childhood nickname. “Just calling to check in.” My mother was a single mom, always. She and my father were never together really. They had a relationship of sorts, but nothing that would stick, and they were both okay about it. When my mother found out she was pregnant, she said she was keeping me, and it was up to my father if he wanted to be involved because she was not going to force me on him.
I guess I got lucky because my father accepted it with an open mind. He was always in my life, and he supported my mother and me very well. At first, we grew up in a two-bedroom condo near the beach in Florida, and slowly, we moved up to a house, which she refuses to leave. It’s right on the beach, and she wants to keep it in case I want to move home. Was I close to my father? I mean, I was as close as I can be to a person who would visit on the holidays. He was there for some birthdays and some not. I was always okay with it because my mother made sure I never doubted I was loved. Not for one minute. Growing up, she would date but only casually and in passing and never brought any man home.
When I got accepted to the college of my choice, it was bittersweet. I would be leaving her, and I dreaded that, but she never made me feel guilty about it. My father ended up covering my whole tuition and still paid my mother every month. He also never had any kids, nor did he have women. I mean, I know he had women, but none that he brought home to me or introduced me to.
“Mom, you don’t have to keep checking in with me,” I tell her with a smile. She wasn’t just my mother; she was really my best friend. “You could just call to see what I’m doing.”
“Okay, fine.” She laughs. “What’s new?”