The Alex Chronicles:Girlfriends & Secrets (8 page)

She
thought for a moment before replying,
“
Only if you promise to repeat that shower
scene.
”

“
Your
wish is my command.
”

Now more
than three years later and countless showers and secret meetings,
she
’
s still calling the
shots.

excerpt from

I CONSIDER MYSELF TO BE
smart. After all, I got my Bachelor's degree in three
years, thanks to no social life, Summer school, and an extra load
of classes. While my classmates were going to parties and football
games, I was going to my internship.

I was
fortunate to intern at Morgan Grant Holdings my senior year. I
really like the company and the people. However, when I graduated
and applied for a position, the only thing available was a Floating
Assistant. I took it, because I know the company
’
s policy is to promote from within. My
parents don
’
t understand
why I
’
m so desperate to
work for this company. I honestly don
’
t understand it either. All I know is, it just
feels right.

Morgan
Grant has branches all over the world. I
’
m hoping wherever I land, I
’
ll have the opportunity to travel and
really make an impact. Since I
’
ve been floating, I
’
ve worked in nearly every department at their San Francisco
headquarters.

I look at
my job as a very long training program. During my internship, I was
relegated to Mergers and Acquisitions. I liked the high powered
energy and seeing deals go from inception to birth. However, as a
floater, I loved the two weeks I was in Advertising. The creative
energy there is like a drug. I love how they function as a group.
If given the choice, that
’
s where I
’
d like
to be. Advertising works with all the departments and subsidiaries
in all the offices. Creativity and travel
…
that
’
s
what I want. Until then, I
’
ll keep floating and interviewing.

The Director of Human Resources called me
early this morning, requesting I report to her office immediately
for a special assignment. I quickly got dressed and headed to
work.

I walked into her office and sat down. She
handed me a card with only an office number. Before she could give
me instructions, her computer dinged and she looked at the screen.
After reading the screen, she grabbed her head, started typing and
told me to go to the office upstairs and someone would give me
details.

I took
the elevator up to the twenty-third floor to the office number on
the card. I
’
ve never
worked on the Senior Executive floor. Most of the offices on this
floor belong to the
“
big
boys
”…
at least
that
’
s what
I
’
ve heard.

The
elevator stopped, the doors opened and my mouth dropped open. It
was beautiful. It didn
’
t
look like an office, but like someone
’
s luxurious living room. I looked around for a
receptionist, but didn
’
t
see one. Maybe that
’
s
what I was going to be doing. I looked down at the card and it said
twenty-three forty-two. I looked around and there were three doors.
I searched for twenty-three forty-two and spotted the brushed steel
numbers on the wall next to a hall. I walked down the long hall and
stopped at the door marked, twenty-three forty-two.

I knocked
on the door, but there was no answer. I turned the knob and the
door opened. I walked inside and looked around the beautifully
decorated black and white office with a view of the city. None of
the spaces I
’
ve worked
in had a window. Most of the offices with windows were reserved for
executives. I thought to myself,
“
Whoever works in here probably prefers working at
night with the lights of the city casting a sense of
calm.
”

The walls were painted a beautiful glossy
dark black. The white lacquered Parsons desk fit perfectly in the
black and white space. However, the desk chair seemed out of place.
It was as if whoever decorated the space forgot the assistant
needed a chair, and grabbed the first thing they saw in storage. In
front of the desk were two French-style arm chairs painted black
with wide black and white stripe fabric. The only things on the
desk were a vintage-style brass lamp, a telephone, large Apple
iMac, MacBook Pro, iPad, and an iPhone. Seemed someone went a
little crazy at the Apple Store. There was also two back-up drives
and about a dozen jump drives. This was definitely the big
leagues.

Behind the desk, was a white lacquered
credenza with a huge arrangement of white lilies, art books,
candles, a black tray with mineral and flat water, napkins with the
company logo, jars of mixed nuts, pretzels, and black and white
M&Ms. In the corner, was a small black velvet settee with black
and white striped pillows like the chairs. Also, a small brass and
glass coffee table with a stack of art books, a small arrangement
of white roses, a very modern brass floor lamp, and a black and
white geometric print rug.

The office was beautiful and unlike any of
the ones downstairs. I looked around and thought how cool it would
be to work in this space permanently. I sat down in one of the
chairs facing the desk and waited for someone to appear.

Ten
minutes later, the phone rang. I looked around and no one appeared,
and the phone stopped ringing. A few minutes later it rang again,
so I answered it.
“
Hello, Morgan Grant.
”
I didn
’
t know
whose office it was so I played it safe. I knew I could always
transfer the call to the right department.

“
Great,
you
’
re there. I need you
to familiarize yourself with the leases for the D.C., Atlanta,
Charlotte, and Dallas offices. Also, get the number of employees. I
need to know if there are any open positions, and if so, how many.
Call Estella in Human Resources and tell her what you need. Then,
make a list of the top three commercial real estate brokers in
London and Paris.
”

He was
speaking so quickly, I never got a chance to tell him that whoever
he was trying to reach wasn
’
t there. I put the call on speaker, got my phone and
recorded everything he was saying while jotting down whatever I
could catch. I wanted to make sure I relayed the information
correctly to whomever the office belonged to.

“
Then go
to Brockman
’
s, ask for
Cameron and pick up the things he has for me. Tony will pick you up
tomorrow and bring you to the airport.
”

“
When the
assistant arrives, who should I say called?
”

“
Phillippe. Don
’
t
tell me I just gave all that to the receptionist. Human Resources
said my assistant was in her office.
”

“
I
’
m sorry, but
no one was here when I arrived. I
’
m waiting on someone to give me instructions for
my next assignment.
”

“
What did
Human Resources tell you?
”

“
There
was an emergency. Then I was handed a card with this office number
and told to report here for my next assignment.
”

He
sighed.
“
Are you
Gabriella Townsend?
”

“
Yes.
”

“
I
’
m Phillippe
Marchant, you
’
ll be
working with me.
”

“
For how
long?
”

“
Excuse
me?
”

“
Usually,
when I start an assignment, I
’
m also told the duration.
”

“
This
isn
’
t a temp job.
You
’
ve been hired to
work with me.
”

“
Oh, I
didn
’
t
…”

“
It
’
s not your
fault. I
’
ll deal with
Human Resources. I
’
m in
Seattle putting out a fire. I
’
ll see you tomorrow.
”
Click.

I pressed
the STOP button on my phone recorder and looked around
my
office
. All my hard work
and patience had paid off. I jumped up and down doing the happy
dance in
my
office
. I walked over
and sat on
my settee, my chairs
and touched everything in
my office
.

I finally
sat down in the odd desk chair and sighed. This is perfect.
It
’
s decorated exactly
how I would have done it.
“
Wow, thank you God.
”
I collected myself and got to work.

Just as I
was about to head out to Brockman
’
s, my phone rang. I picked it up and
answered,
“
Phillippe
Marchant
’
s
office.
”

“
Gabriella.
”

Now that
I know this is my office, I took the time to really listen to his
voice. It was deep and sounded like smooth port wine.
“
Yes, sir.
”

“
First of
all, it
’
s
Phillippe.
”

“
Yes,
sir. I mean Phillippe.
”

“
Call
James Marshall
’
s office.
His number is in the Contacts on your computer. Let them know
we
’
ll be attending the
gala and that I
’
ll give
James the check when I meet with him.
”

“
Is there
anyone else I need to inform about the party?
”

“
Excuse
me?
”

“
You
said
us.
”

“
Crap. Is
there a black folder on your desk?
”

“
No.
”

“
Go into
my office and look on my desk.
”

“
Hold
on.
”

I walked
over to the sliding wood door across from my desk, and pulled it
back. My mouth dropped open again for the second time today. In the
almost two years I
’
ve
worked here, I
’
ve never
seen an office like this one. It
’
s not an office, but a loft. The very masculine
scent greeted me at the door
…
tobacco, musk, leather and something spicy I
can
’
t name.

The walls were the same color black as the
ones in my office, but in a flat finish. In the far left corner was
a lounge area with a large black leather sofa, a couple of
oversized brown leather club chairs, and a large square distressed
wood coffee table with a large art book opened to a page on vintage
cars. To the left of the door were shiny black bookcases filled
with books, albums and a vintage record player.

In the other corner, was a large rectangular
dark wood table with eight square black leather and brass chairs
around it. Above the table, was a cool vintage light fixture
expanding the length of the table. An antique brass open shelving
unit was on the wall facing the conference table. On the wall above
the shelving unit was a large, round mirror. An incredible plaster
and iron sculpture sat on top of the shelving unit.

I stepped
inside and the view of San Francisco took my breath away. The wall
facing the conference table was floor to ceiling
windows
…
a
billionaire
’
s view. I
looked around and finally cast my attention on the large, sleek and
shiny black lacquered desk. It looked more like art than a desk.
The only things on it were a large Apple iMac, a telephone, a
couple of black lacquer trays, and a small tray filled with black
Montblanc pens and black old school pencils. The chair seemed out
of place in front of the desk. It was black velvet, with a feminine
shape to it.

It was
clear Phillippe was an art lover. There were interesting pieces
accessorizing the space. The large black and white print on the
wall behind the desk was my favorite
…
a pair of hands. It was simple and dramatic.
Instead of a light cluttering the desk, there was a cool, bubble
bulb chandelier hanging over the desk. Behind the desk was a black
vintage credenza with a tray of bottled water, glasses, napkins and
three glass canisters
…
one with mixed nuts, one with black and white M&Ms and
one with pretzels. I see Mr. Marchant likes to snack, which
explains the identical set up in my office.