"You have everything set up then?"
"Yep. Where's Mr. Jeff?"
"He had a meeting. Donald has scheduled all his appointments for today and tomorrow. For these two days I'll be teaching you how to make appointments. This is your planner," Michael explained, handing me a black leather book. "In the front is a list of everyone who has any reason to call Lafayette. If they have a star next to them then they immediately get put through because they're important. If they have an 'x' next to them then it means that they never get put through if they call. Mr. Jeff will call them. If they don't have anything next to their name then you ask Mr. Jeff if they would like to call."
"Okay," I said, nodding, looking through the planner. The pages could be replaced yearly for new planner pages. Since it was early October the majority of the pages were full, but the contact list looked like it hadn't been touched, probably because Donald knew everything about who was calling.
"When Mr. Jeff takes a call, he will tell you when and where the appointment is and you write it down so he can remember it in the future. It's usually in a week when the actual appointment takes place and he always has an appointment so he usually forgets them. Now, if he needs something, like new shoes or coffee or different clothes, something that requires you to leave, you tell me and I'll go get it. You hardly ever leave Mr. Jeff's side. You're always in the same room except for when your shift is done."
"Why would he need different clothes?" I asked.
Michael looked at me over his glasses. "It was just an example. He has clothes in that room right there," he said and pointed to the door that was next to my desk. "Never go in there unless Mr. Jeff allows you to, okay? Hardly anyone ever goes in there."
"What's in there?"
"Don't worry about it. Now, I already know when to get his food so you don't have to tell me that. Just let me know when he'd like coffee, and you'll need coffee, too."
"Why?" I asked.
"He only drinks coffee if he's pulling an all-nighter, and like I said - you never leave his side. If he's here working until three in the morning, so are you."
"Alright. So what else is there?"
"The big things are to make his appointments. That always comes first. Then you answer his calls, let them go through if necessary, and make more appointments. He'll tell you things he needs and you tell me. Other than that, it's the little things." Michael took off his glasses to rub his eyes, looking tired. "And I know you're going to ask what the little things are. So, let me tell you. I won't be able to tell you because there's so many and you'll learn them over time. Mr. Jeff won't be mad about having to teach you anything."
"What if I forget and he has to teach me a second time?"
"He's not an angry person, Em. I've seen him angry, like, three times in my life and I've known him since high school."
"Wow. Really?" I asked. Mr. Jeff in high school. I wondered what he was like. Probably sexy as hell, quarterback, dating the cheerleader, class president. The golden boy.
"Yes. Emilio and I both have," Michael said. He sighed and sat down in one of the chairs, crossing his legs. "We were his high school best friends and he came up with the idea of starting this company and since Emilio and I weren't going any where in life he gave us jobs, and also because we're his friends. Anyway, the little things."
"What about Donald and Vince?" I asked, curiosity getting the better of me.
"Donald and Vince have been together for a very long time and they've been friends with Lafayette since he was a kid. Vince was actually our high school economics teacher, and once things were going well we needed help and so he hired Vince, and Donald had done secretarial jobs before so he came, too. Plus, Donald was their neighbor and helped raise Lafayette anyway." Michael huffed in annoyance, realizing we kept getting off topic. "Enough about the past. The little things."
"Right."
"Every morning, you have to put a new flower in that vase," he said, pointing to an empty black glass vase sitting on his desk.
"Why?" I asked.
"Because he likes flowers. Hell if I know. He just likes it and Donald has been doing it forever. It can be any flower, but Donald mostly got roses. Now, Mr. Jeff will have some bad days."
"How can I tell when he's having a bad day?"
"If he's not working it's a bad day," he answered. "He usually just sits at his desk and stares out the window or at his flower, and you can just see him thinking. You're suppose to make him better."
"How?"
Michael sighed. "Do you really think I wasn't going to tell you how? Why would I state that if I wasn't going to tell you?"
"Michelle, do you need your dick sucked or something?" asked Emilio, entering the room with two cups of coffee. Michael glared at him, jaw clenched, taking the coffee away from him. "I like to call him Michelle when he's being a diva. He gets like this." Then he whispered to me, even though Michael could easily hear him. "Him and Donald were close. He's gonna miss him."
Michael sighed and turned back to me. "When Mr. Jeff has his bad days-"
"Everyone has a bad day," Emilio interrupted.
Michael pursed his lips and glared at him again, then looked back to me. "Right. So if you don't make him better, then it's not a good day for anyone, especially you. Your day ends up worse than Mr. Jeff's. So, there are multiple things you can do. Buy him a box of chocolates with caramel in them. Sit with him and eat them with him and you can just stare as well. Eventually he'll say thank you and start discussing work. Continue discussing work with him and he'll get out of the funk."
"Wait, you said that if he needed something then you'd leave and get it," I said.
"Not when it comes to the chocolate. If I buy the chocolate then I have to sit with him and I can't do that because I'm always busy. You have to. If he's not doing anything, then you're not."
"Okay, but while we're on that what about the flower? Do I buy that?"
"Yes," he said. "Before you come into work."
"What if he's pulling an all-nighter?"
"He takes a power nap eventually. Now, continuing on. If you don't want to buy him chocolate then a foot rub will do just fine."
"Wait," I interrupted. "I have to give him a massage?"
"A foot rub."
I raised an eyebrow. Give my boss a massage? That's so weird! "I don't know how," I said.
"You'll learn," he said, smirking at Emilio, who shared a knowing smile. They knew something and I didn't. Great. Secrets are always wonderful. "He won't force you to, but take up on it because he also gives pretty good foot rubs."
I sighed, leaning back. I thought making appointments and taking phone calls were going to be the hard part, but they made that seem easy. Actually tending to him was the hard part.
"If all else fails, give him a blow job," Emilio said.
"What?!" I chirped.
Michael and Emilio laughed. "Just kidding chica."
"Isn't it chico?" I asked, since I'm a boy...
"Not with your girly face," he said, turning the other chair and sitting in it, facing me the way Michael was.
"Thanks," I said. This was going to be fun.
Emilio started laughing. "Oh man, you're gonna be in for it tomorrow," he chuckled.
"What's tomorrow?" I asked.
"You'll see," Michael said. "Anyway, can we stop getting off topic? Also, again, he did not hire you just because you're cute. We cannot have a sexual harassment issue on our hands Emilio, so please shut up."
I groaned. "What else is there?"
"His number. Here." He handed me a piece of paper with a number on it. "He will never email your. He will always call you. He has your number, and he even has the number of your parents and the person who owns your apartment. There should never be a reason that you don't answer his phone unless you are in a coma. Always answer it. It could be four o'clock in the morning. You answer. If you're at a funeral - answer it."
"You mean if my mom passes away I have to answer it?" I asked. What the hell!
"If you tell him you have to attend a funeral then he won't call. That's another thing. Communication. Answer unknown numbers. If you can't for some reason answer then immediately text him and then call him when you can."
"Why wouldn't he call from his cell phone?" I asked.
"He doesn't have a cell phone. Remember?"
"Then what's this number?" I asked, holding up the card.
"It's to that phone," he said, pointing to the phone on his desk. "For one thing, he'll most likely call you from that phone because if you two are separate, then it's only because he is still here and you are at home. If he calls you from a payphone then it's because of some emergency."
"Okay," I said, looking at his number. "Do I ever have to call him?"
"Hardly. You'll always be together, and if you're not together then it's because you're not working. When you're home, you don't have to do anything."
"It's almost one o'clock. Can we go to the party now?" Emilio asked, looking at his watch.
"Yes. We'll talk more after," Michael said. "Oh, but you have to wait here for Mr. Jeff."
"I'm not gonna miss the party am I?" I asked.
"No. Mr. Jeff wouldn't miss the party. He might forget to come up here before and so you might miss it then, but I doubt that'll happen."
I nodded. "Alright. Save me some cake," I said as they left. I sighed and leaned back in my chair, propping my feet up.
God that was a lot to take in. The whole appointment part was easy, but when I have to take care of him then that'll be hard. Sure, I don't have to run out and do his errands, but I actually have to take care of him. He hardly got angry, but what if in that rare moment I still make him angry? I'd probably cry. I'm really a huge crybaby. Yeah, I laugh at everything, but I can cry at anything, too. For movies I cry for so many, even if they're not meant to be sad. I'm usually always happy, or otherwise nervous or bored, it's just I can cry and laugh easily. Clearly I can't laugh around Mr. Jeff, but I might be able to in the future if we become more comfortable. But as for crying? Yeah. If he yells I could probably cry. If he's having a bad day I'll cry too, because I'll probably blame myself and just because I don't want him to have a bad day. Man I'm a crybaby.
I sat there for about forty minutes skimming the internet before I stood up, bored. I was tempted to call him, but that would be a huge mistake considering it was my first day with him and it was just rude. Plus I knew he was in a meeting. I walked around the office, glancing at his desk but not picking at it or anything. Simple glancing. There was hardly anything on there to reveal anything about him. On the left curve there was a small, red leather notebook that was full of numbers and equations. No, I didn't open it. It was already open. Next to that was one photo of him and a group of people, his family I'm guessing. In the middle there was his computer and the screen saver was "World News" and so it would put up international headlines.
I just might have shaken the mouse to see what was on his desktop. I was surprised there were files after files on his desktop, but instead it was your typical stuff. Security, Word, Recycle Bin, Internet, etc. The background actually changed every few minutes. I first saw a picture of Paris that looked like he actually took it. Then it faded to the Statue of Liberty from the ground pointed up. I didn't see the next picture because I glanced at the right curve, and next to the computer was the black vase but no flower. Next to that were some leather-bound books, all black. I glanced up, making sure no one was around, especially Mr. Jeff. I opened the first book super quick, and it was all hand written stuff. I saw a date and decided it was a journal. I quickly shut it and picked up the second one. In it were sketches of clothes.
Oh yeah. He designed his own clothes. I sat it down and looked at the third and last one, and it was sketches of everything else. Really good sketches. I quickly sat them all down just the way they were and turned to look out the window. The view was nice too and I could see many bustling people. I glanced at the books on his shelves and noticed many old books, classic ones and nonfiction theory books, books on economics and businesses. I stopped by the window on the wall and looked out. The sky was gray, about to rain, but it still looked nice out.
I sat down on the couch and lied back, waiting. I closed my eyes and ended up falling asleep, and I am the heaviest sleeper you could ever meet. It's nearly impossible to wake me up. Bright lights don't work. Alarms don't work. Splashing cold water on me works - sometimes.
I also sleep weird. I lie on my stomach a lot or otherwise on my back, arms flailed above my head, looking like Rose from Titanic when she's being drawn like one of Jack's French girls. I wasn't sure what he did to wake me up at first, probably just said my name, shook me and then realized I was like a rock. I woke up groggily. I think he slapped my arm or something. I sat up abruptly at the realization that my boss on my first day was waking me up on the job.
"Sorry to keep you waiting," he told me.
"N-No, it's fine," I said. "Sorry for, you know, uh, sleeping. I just don't have any work to do right now and Michael already taught me some stuff and then went to the party so I, uh, just had to wait for you and yeah." God I sounded like an idiot.
"It's fine," he said to me, smiling. "Come on. The party's not over yet."
"Right," I said, standing and tucking my shirt in. I tried to get my hair back into place but it was always messy in the first place.
We went to the elevator and the ride down to the first floor was awkward. It was only awkward for me, though, probably because I'm awkward naturally.
"I'm certain Donald will tell you some stuff you need to know," he said on the fifteenth floor.
"I hope so. I've never given a foot rub before." Seriously? Did I just say that?
He smiled, slyly. "You don't have to give me one if you don't want to, Em. Donald knew a lot of massage therapy methods and knew how to rub my feet so I was less stressed. He rubbed all of our feet. We're a personal bunch of people, but we don't want to make you uncomfortable."
The elevator dinged with every floor we passed. Mr. Jeff turned to me. "I just want you to know, the majority of what Michael told you is probably an exaggeration. I hope he didn't make me sound scarier than I am."
"Not scary, just...a very busy man."
He chuckled. "That I am, but a patient one. I know he most certainly didn't tell you that."
The elevator made it to the first floor. There was cake and it was nice to see everyone from the 23rd floor because I knew I wouldn't be able to see them as much.
"Hey, look, it's the new me," Donald said as I came up to approach him.
"Yep. It's you," I said.
"So, champ, got any questions for me?"
"Not really. I'm certain Michael, Emilio, or Vince will let me in on what I need to know."
"The 24th floor is a place of close companionship. Emilio, Michael, and Lafayette have been friends since they were kids. Vince and I have known them since they were kids. We taught them and helped raise them. We've been close for years and we've built this company together. When I declared I was retiring to them they were very upset because they didn't want someone to replace me. Michael is kind of rude to you because he hates to see me go considering his father passed and Vince and I kind of took him under our wing. We're all very close and very open. You need to be comfortable with them in order to really belong. They'll never want to hang around you if you act too professional. When you're out in public and with others then yeah, of course you have to be professional. But when it's just the five of you on the 24th floor, pretend it's your apartment and they're your closest roommates. Okay?"
I nodded. "Thanks Donald."
"Don't mention it. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go harass my husband. Vince!"
I chuckled and turned to glance out the window, eating some cake. Just as I got icing on my upper lip and decided to lick it off, Mr. Jeff came up to me. I wiped off the excess icing after just smearing it more by trying to lick it with my hand. "Hello," I greeted, blushing.
"I'm afraid we have to leave now," Mr. Jeff said to me.
"Oh, of course. Yeah." Oh god. What the hell was I doing? I didn't have my planner or anything! I was screwed! I can't ask for anything!
"Great. Come along."
To my relief, we went to the office. I grabbed the planner and everything I needed. He had gone into the room I wasn't allowed in and he came out in a different outfit. We went back downstairs (he had his own personal elevator so luckily we never had to wait) and out the door to a car that was waiting. Right. I'd have to schedule the transportation. Can't forget that.
"Don't be so nervous," he told me as we sat in the car.
"Huh?" I asked.
"You're nervous. There's no reason to be. I don't bite, Em."
Maybe I want you to. Oh god. There's something wrong with me.
"I know," I said, deciding that it'd be best if I actually say something coherent.
"You'll shake the nerves eventually. Just be casual."
"Okay. I can do that."
"Good. I've seen the way you are with your friends on the 23rd floor. You were nervous around them in the beginning right?"
I nodded. It's true. I was a nervous, awkward mess back then. Now we're great friends, and it didn't take me long to break out of my shell. I opened the planner to reveal our destination. It said, "3:00 - Doctor Heins." So I asked, "Who's Dr. Heins?"
"My shrink."
"Oh." Awkward silence. "I went to a shrink once," I said. "In high school. My parents thought I was doing something illegal because I would sneak out a lot. They followed me and thought I was going down the alleys to deal drugs or something. Really I was just going to gay clubs because I knew no other gay guys and I wasn't out to anyone. Plus I laugh at everything and I cry about everything so they thought I was going insane. Eventually they realized it was a gay club. Then they sent me to some sex therapist because they didn't know anything about gay sex and it's like, 'Mom - Dad - I'm fine.' I mean, hello? I wasn't sexually active until college when...." Someone punch me. Please. I'm an idiot. I just told him when I lost my virginity. Oh me oh my. I'm a dumbass.
"You don't have to be that casual," he said to me with that same smirk. He always had that smirk! It was unreadable. I couldn't tell if he was really amused or pretending to be amused.
"I-I just, you know, kind of...ramble on, uh, you know - when I'm, uh, nervous."
"I was kidding. I'd rather have you talk and embarrass yourself than say one thing."
"Okay..."
"And don't be embarrassed. College is a fun time."
Mortified. I was mortified. My face was as red as a freaking tomato. Ugh. I'm so pitiful. He's showing pity towards me. "But, uh, yeah I went to a sex therapist but also a shrink for a little while too in middle school. Totally...normal."
He eyed me, taking in what I said. "We're here."
"Oh okay." I got out and waited for him to get out, him leading the way. We went up to the fifth floor of the building and into a small waiting room. After ten minutes of waiting a blonde, stout woman with a pretty face came out. "I'm ready for you, Mr. Jeff." He smiled at her and nodded, standing. "I won't be long," he said to me.
So. I sat there for forty minutes, trying to decipher the pattern on the colorful carpet, deciding that there actually wasn't a pattern and it was random. And of course - I fell asleep again. I couldn't help it. I liked to sleep on nice comfy couches. I was awaken by a slap to the chest. When I drowsily muttered something about a clock he slapped me again, making me sit up, alert. "Sorry," I muttered. "I like comfy things."
He smiled, with his teeth, and motioned for me to leave. I tucked in my shirt once again and we left. I didn't have much to do and so he asked me where I lived so I could be dropped off. I was kind of embarrassed to let him see that I lived in a shabby apartment, but I knew he didn't care. I went home and collapsed onto the couch, looking out the window.Be casual. Be myself.