His blank face cracks with the hint of a smile. Good. I can make Nick smile. My secret assignment for the day will be to make him laugh.
“The bad news is you won’t be hanging out with me today.”
I snap my fingers and pretend to be disappointed. “Darn!”
He holds up his hand to stop me from leaving the elevator. “Wait. The good news is you get to see natural light today. You’ve been summoned to the upper levels.”
My stomach flips. “Oh, no. The vice president? Maggie Clark?”
“Even better. You’re going to see Stephanie.”
“The chick with the big boobs? And the heavy perfume?”
“That’s not a very nice way to talk about your new supervisor.”
“She’s my new supervisor? I don’t even know what department she works in. The receptionist on the top floor said Stephanie’s department was secret.”
Nick reaches up and twists the spiked metal poking out of his earlobe. “You’re a bright girl, Jess. You’ll figure it out.”
“I’m going there now?”
“Not until you push the button, silly.” He leans into the elevator, presses the button for the ninth floor, then pulls away. “Bye bye.”
I hold my hands to my heart. Joking, I say, “Nick, don’t send me away. The archives is all I know. I thought we had something.”
His mouth quivers, resisting a full smile.
The elevator doors slide together, and I lurch up… up toward the ninth floor.
I hold my hands in tight fists, and then force them to relax.
Relax, Jess, I tell myself. You’re just going to the ninth floor. Didn’t you want a promotion?
The elevator stops on the lobby floor. Some people get on. One of the girls looks about my age. She says to the guy next to her, “Ugh, another marketing meeting.”
“Endless meetings,” he says.
They both have Morris Music keycards. I was hoping to work in the marketing department. The person who hired me said I’d be a good fit in that department. If only. I sigh quietly.
The two of them talk some more about their morning meeting. It doesn’t sound so bad to me. They’re picking out album cover art and then doing some focus testing. Focus testing has always sounded fun to me. That’s where you ask people what they think of different graphics or videos. Super fun.
The elevator stops on the eighth floor, and they walk off.
Alone, I check my reflection in the mirror. My dark brown hair seems to be picking up a golden highlight from the LA sunshine. I’m wearing it down today, so I don’t have monkey ears. I tuck some hair behind one ear.
The girl who was going to the marketing meeting had on more makeup than me, plus earrings. She looked really professional. I guess I could try harder, but whenever I put on a lot of makeup, I look like a little girl playing dress-up. Will I ever stop feeling like a tomboy?
The elevator doors open, and I step out.
Where’s this Stephanie woman? I sniff the air. Her perfume could probably lead me straight to her.
The ninth floor doesn’t have a receptionist, just a bunch of offices. Should I go right or left? I think I smell more perfume to the right, so I walk that way.
“Jessica!” There’s a curvy woman standing in the doorway of the last office at the end. It’s Stephanie. She’s got bright red hair, and she couldn’t hide in a crowd if she tried. She’s one of those women who commands attention.
“Hello,” I say.
“Look at you in your little gray suit. Aren’t you adorable!” She sounds like she’s talking to a little baby.
“Adorable? I guess I’ll take that as a compliment.” I reach out to shake her hand.
She presses her cool fingers lightly to mine, like she’s never shaken hands before and isn’t sure what it means. I’m pretty sure I just made my first mistake.
“Sorry,” I say, tucking my hands behind my back.
“Never apologize,” she says. Suddenly her eyes are like lasers, beaming into my brain. She says it again. “Lesson number one. Never apologize.”
I nod to confirm I heard her.
“You’re late,” she says.
“I’m sorry. I just got here, and Nick sent me up, and—”
She stops me by pressing her finger to my lips. “Let’s try it again. This time don’t apologize.”
I’m completely stunned. Speechless. What game is this? We’re still standing in her doorway, and thankfully nobody else is in the hallway with us.
With a little smile, she says, “You’re late.”
I look her up and down, trying to think fast. She’s wearing a red dress, just like yesterday. Every inch of her skin that’s visible is tanned. She’s definitely got sun damage and freckles on her cleavage and face, but underneath the makeup, she’s pretty. She looks about forty. Her natural hair color is probably light brown, but it’s dyed a bright red.