Roman-1(Lane Brothers, Book 5)(134)
“What about the slides?”
“In the boardroom, along with the individual copies.”
“Lunch?”
“Everything is there. I’ve arranged for fresh coffee to be brought in, and Taz is taking notes for Mr Yates, so I have that covered on our end too.”
He nods distractedly and runs a hand through his floppy brown hair.
“Here. Just take a deep breath and remember that we’ve considered everything. There’s no way they won’t be impressed.”
“Really? Because I had a meeting with Yates at the golf course, and I’m a little unsure of my position if this presentation doesn’t go well. I need this account.”
Well, you should have considered that before you went back to the golf course and left me to do your job, I say silently.
“It’s going to be fine. Now go in there and wow those people.”
“Come with me,” he pleads, and I refrain from rolling my eyes.
“Mr Yates only wants the bigwigs and Taz in there. I can’t sit in without permission. Anyway, its lunchtime, and I still have to go pick up your wife’s dress from the cleaners,” I remind him.
One day, I will not be a glorified goffer.
Maybe.
Hopefully.
“Yeah, okay,” he sighs, grabbing his stuff and walking to the door. “Thanks, Han, I appreciate all your hard work.”
When he’s gone I look out the window, just to be sure the sky is still blue and that a huge alien spacecraft isn’t hovering over New York. Jordan saying thank you? Weirdest day ever.
I meet Lucy in the elevator, and we ride down together, deciding to grab lunch at the deli on the corner. They make a great chicken salad, and the cleaners are just down the street.
“Know what I don’t understand?” she asks as we pay for the food and grab a table at the window.
“What?”
Yummy, the chicken’s a little crispy today, just the way I like it.
“The Lucas account was with The Bowen Agency. I mean, they’re like the Ali’s and Tyson’s of advertising. Why move your business to another agency, especially such a small one like ours, if you’ve got the crème da la crème in your pocket?”
That’s a great question, but one I am not equipped to answer. What do I know about what makes Gregory tick? The man is a mystery, kind of like water on Mars. You want to think you know what’s going on, but deep down you know the water could just be weird colored rocks or something.
He’s like that, the proverbial maybe, and I’m about as capable of guessing his intentions as I am of convincing my boss that golf is not a sport.
“Maybe he didn’t like them. Who knows? The important thing is that we do have the account, and it could mean bigger and better for the agency. Now eat your lunch, I still have to go get her highness’s dress down the street.”
“God, I am so glad I got Owens. Have I said that before?”
“Only like a million times,” I snort. “Stop crowing about it and get a move on. I’m dying to know about the presentation. I hope Jordan doesn’t balls it up.”
I shouldn’t take it too personally. Jordan’s arrogant and an ass sometimes, and he definitely does not have the finest presentation skills. I know this, so getting huffy because he’s likely to bomb the presentation I put together isn’t smart.
But it’ll piss me off if my hard work isn’t lauded.
“You remember what happened with the Rowland thing? I swear to God the entire floor had bets going. I won fifty bucks and Owens had to buy me lunch for a week.”
Yeah, I remember that too, and it still makes my blood boil. That presentation had been perfect for the kings of peanut butter. Too bad they’d hated Jordan so much they’d pulled the plug and gone elsewhere.
“You are like the best PA in the company. Even Taz doesn’t run her ship as ruthlessly as you do. I can’t believe you got stuck with Mr Golf.” She sighs.
Me neither.
“It’s fine, he’s not that bad,” I say, rising to throw my plate and cup in the bin. “You coming with or going straight back?”
“Coming of course. I need to see what all your hard work is paying for. Anyway, if it’s half as great as the last dress, I’m thinking we should keep it and tell Jordan the cleaners couldn’t get the stain out.”
I know she’s teasing, that is Lucy for ya, but as she says it I realize I have another date tonight. And nothing to wear.
“You wouldn’t happen to have a really cute dress I could borrow?” I ask as we walk out of the cleaners with a dress that probably costs enough to feed a small village.
“You think anything I own would fit you?” she snorts, looking down at her slightly chubby middle. “Ah, no. So what do you need a dress for?”