new story new story! if you've read my other books, hi! I love you a lot. if you're new, also hi! I'm hoping this will be fun. I've actually made a little Pinterest board for this book because it's honestly helped me a lot in terms of visualizing-- it might be fun to look at, so I've linked it here: https://pin.it/6heI1wU
happy reading!
my foot taps impatiently against the tiles while I wait by the pickup counter. I'm already running a little late thanks to subway maintenance, but I have to get the morning coffee. they're playing John Mayer over the speakers.
even though I texted to say I wouldn't be on time, panic still floods my system. my phone buzzes as Matthew responds with an enthusiastic, no problem!
the drinks finally show up on the counter and I duck between lethargic customers to make my way outside. winter is just setting in; the wind bites at my face and fingertips.
I've been to SoHo before, but not often. even for New York standards, it's expensive. all of it is still slightly unfamiliar as my new boots trample over dirty sidewalk sludge to his place. I pass local shops, boutiques, memorizing all the details so that I can run errands better. on Tuesday, it took me a whole twenty minutes just to find the bodega he goes to.
patches of ice occasionally threaten to upend me, but the overall walk isn't long. soon enough, I'm staring up at a building that houses people whose salaries double what I'll make in my entire lifetime. it's a revamped place, not unlike many Manhattan apartments, but last night's snowfall looks pretty on the window panes. I run up the steps of the front stoop, sliding the new key into the lock and making my way to the elevator.
I check my reflection in the warped metal walls of the lift as it heads up to the top floor. normally, I would never dress this nicely, but I've been trying to look more professional. the doors slide open and I move quickly into the hallway, trying to shave as much time off of my lateness as possible.
"morning, Mr. Gubler!" I greet loudly once I unlock his door and step inside. it's still mostly dark in the apartment, light filtering through the slats of the blinds. my feet carry me into the small kitchen.
"are you sitting in the dark?" I laugh, setting his to-go cup on the counter. Matthew looks up at me from his phone with a sleepy smile.
"yes. good morning, Ophelia." he wipes his eyes.
"you okay?" he's wearing a green sweater with an enormous banana knitted on the front and his hair is unbelievably messy; a pair of glasses perches slightly crookedly on his nose.
"just a late night. thanks for the coffee." he lifts the Americano to his lips. I nod.
"you have a meeting at ten-thirty, just in case you forgot."
"fuck." he slaps a hand to his forehead and groans.
"do you want me to reschedule?" I ask. he really does look very un-Matthew-like today. every other morning this week, he's greeted me with grins and ardent questions about my classes.
"no, no." he waves it off. "I just have a headache."
"here," I pull my purse out and find a bottle of aspirin. "I get those pretty often." he smiles and swallows the pill with his coffee.
"thanks."
"definitely. go get ready; I'll make you some breakfast or something." I shrug. he frowns.
"what? no, that's not in your job description."
I take one look at the wrinkled collar of his shirt and almost push him out of the room.
"yeah, but I haven't eaten yet, either, so I'll just take some for myself and we'll call it even." I brush by him and look through the fridge. he lets out a little snort and leaves the room.
between scrambling eggs and popping toast in the oven, I form my own rhythm. I barely know him, but things have been entirely unconventional since my interview on Friday: he tried to bake me welcome cookies that ended up burning to a crisp. I was talking about student film experience when I could smell something charring. of course, he laughed it off with some self-deprecatory joke, but it was still strange. by the time I had to leave for my film and culture class, we had started on a new batch together.
I've been getting less nervous every day. Matthew and I just click professionally. he makes it feel more like we're friends than like I'm working for him. and I suppose it isn't a normal assistant job-- I'm not being run ragged trying to fit things into his schedule or handle weird, elaborate requests. my advisor got me an interview really to get my foot in the door of the film and television industry, and Matthew's been incredibly helpful.
"sorry again about being late." I apologize once he steps out from the bathroom and into the kitchen. his hair clings to his forehead as he dries it.
"not a problem. the subway is a pain sometimes." he shrugs and plucks a slice of golden-brown toast off the plate I've set out for him. "thank you."
"I also have the re-writes that Enid sent over last night. she wants your thoughts on them." I pull a thick pink script out of my purse and slap it on the counter. he picks it up and flips through it before checking his watch.
"I have to head out." he tells me with an apologetic look.
"wait, wait." I run around the counter and brush the toast crumbs off the front of the new sweater he's changed into.
"what would I do without you?" he jokes, smiling and gathering up his coat.
"no idea. have a good meeting!" I watch him go before sitting down to my own breakfast. it's been surprising to me how much Matthew trusts me to just stay in his apartment while he's gone. he even had a key ready on my first day.
that said, there's a lot I have to do between now and when he returns. transferring his messy notebook calendar details into my (much more organized) planner has taken me forever, and it's only the schedule for this month. I also have a film theory paper to write that's due at 2pm, and I need to finish up my final draft of that.
when I finish eating, I clean up my mess and look around. the best thing about being in Matthew's apartment is that it is endlessly fascinating. every corner, every detail is unique and deliberate. there's a very welcoming energy, especially around the antique furniture. so I sink into the cushions of a refurbished couch by the fireplace.
...
"one second." the dry-cleaner holds up an index finger and turns to sift through the newly laundered clothes. I rock back and forth on my heels while I wait in line. it's almost out the door today, and a thin layer of chatter pervades the space.
"what was the name again?" the man comes back to the counter.
"uh, Gubler. should be three shirts and two... kimonos." again, a weird quirk of his, apparently. the guy nods and heads to the back. somebody behind me coughs and I can feel the general pressure of impatience. it's only a matter of time before someone starts complaining.
it takes roughly two extra minutes of stressful quiet before a woman emerges from the back and places her palms flat on the surface.
"you're sure this is the place you dropped them at?" she asks me with a sharp tongue. I frown.
"yes. I came here on Monday morning and they said it would be ready on Thursday."
"it's not here." she deadpans. I raise my eyebrows as panic floods my stomach. this is not happening.
"s-sorry? are you sure?"
"yes." she nods and gestures to a sign behind her that states, in bold, NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR LOST ITEMS. I stare blankly at it until she speaks again and points to the people after me. "there's a line."
as if I don't know that. the person behind me pushes up closer and there seems to be a collective sigh. I wrack my mind for a solution, but step away. three shirts and two kimonos, just lost. gone. how the fuck do you lose that many clothes?
more importantly, how the hell am I supposed to explain this to Matthew? he's gonna fire me. I have friends who interned or assisted other actors and got fired over much less. and it wasn't even my fault.
a lump forms in my throat as I walk out of the dry-cleaners, trying to find any way to fix this. I could try to buy him new stuff, but it'll also mean that I won't be eating for the next month and probably won't be able to make rent.
maybe I can get Ren to cover for me.
should I text him now or wait until he gets home? I slip into a coffee shop to buy some time while I make a decision. it's warm inside. I get a latte before grabbing a corner table and pulling out my phone. I probably have about two hours before he comes back, but maybe I can stop in one of these trendy thrift stores and find something comparable.
he still might fire me, but at least I won't be able to say I didn't try. Ingrid, my advisor, is going to disappointed in me. ugh. I research nearby highly-rated thrift stores and end up trudging my way through the snowfall to a place ten minutes from the apartment.
inside, people are milling about. they browse through overpriced used jackets and sweaters, readying themselves for the holiday season. my cold fingers rub together while I start to head towards the back, where the men's clothing sits untouched.
although none of the shirts are even close in quality to what was lost at the dry cleaner's, I miraculously find a kimono. it's got little drawings of goblins and mice on it, like something out of a children's story book. I've barely looked at it when I know it's perfect for Matthew.
at least I won't be empty-handed. it does, however, do a number on my wallet. once the thing's been paid for, I start back toward the apartment. my fingers are numb and my face is red from the cold, but there's still a slight feeling of dread when the door shuts behind me.
"hey!" Matthew is reading a book in an armchair by the fireplace. he looks up at me with a smile.
"oh, hi." all the blood drains from my face.
"what's in the bag?" he nods at the enormous thing. I glance down at it, then at him, then wince inwardly.
"it's kind of a funny story." he frowns but doesn't say anything as I sit down on the couch. "so, you know how I had to pick up your laundry today?"
"sure." he replies. my legs cross and uncross while I try to find the right way to say this.
"basically, I was there today to get it, and they told me that they had-- they lost it." the words hang in the air while I wait for his reaction.
"oh, that's too bad." is his only response. he looks barely bothered.
"I'm really sorry. they told me that it wasn't there and so I actually went to a thrift store right by here and got you this," my words are coming out so fast, my tongue almost twists up. I open the bag and lift out the silky kimono. "anyway, I know it's not as nice as the clothes they lost, but I'm sorry. it won't happen again."
I hand the garment over and await damnation. Matthew takes the kimono and looks at it with a little smile.
"you didn't have to do this," he's suppressing a laugh and now I'm getting even more nervous. "it obviously wasn't your fault. they lose my stuff all the time."
"wait, what?" I sit up.
"yeah." he shrugs.
"then why do you keep going back?"
"it's family-owned." he replies like it's obvious. I just stare at him for a long moment, trying to read his thoughts. he folds the kimono up in his lap with a secretive smile.
"why are you smiling like that?" my heart thuds in my chest with anxiety. did I seriously do something else wrong?
"nothing." he waves it off.
"no, what?" I demand. he looks up at me with an amused expression before drawing his eyes to the fireplace.
"this is my old kimono. I donated it to that thrift store, like, last week." he tells me. my heart stops in my chest.
"no." I say, almost slack-mouthed. he nods and the utter embarrassment causes me to throw my head back into the couch with a groan. "I'm literally a dumbass."
"no, you're not." he's chuckling. "how would you have known that?"
"I don't know. but the dry-cleaning thing, and now this?" I cover my face with my hands and, once he realizes that I'm obviously in distress, he lowers his voice.
"Ophelia, it's really fine," he says. I drop my hands and look at him as he continues. "you went above and beyond even trying to get me something. don't feel bad at all."
"so you're not firing me?" the question comes out before I can stop it. Matthew makes a surprised face and then lets out a laugh.
"what? no!"
"thank god." I put my hand over my chest. he watches me, confused, for a moment. when I look back at him, there's a new question on my tongue. "wait, why did you donate it?"
"I don't know, just felt like a change of pace." he looks thoughtfully at the thing. "actually, this might be a sign."
"what do you mean?"
"I donated this last week and somehow, out of all the things to happen, my laundry gets lost at the dry cleaner's and you pick this specific thrift store and this specific kimono. it came back to me." he stands up, holding the piece of fabric with a newfound tenderness. "you can't tell me that's not magical."
I don't say anything at first. I wouldn't call it magical more than I'd call it a coincidence. but Matthew runs off to his room to hang it up and when he returns, I've regained my composure. I suppose I miscalculated a bit, thankfully.
...
"how's it been going?" Ren sits down on my bed with a bowl of leftover Thai curry. I close my laptop and groan, having waited nearly all week to talk about my new job. we've both been swamped with school and have barely left our rooms except to head to class or work.
"crazy." I share. she swallows a bite of her food.
"did you get a picture with him?"
"what?" I laugh. "that would be so weird."
"did you at least tell him that your roommate would literally commit a felony just to sleep with him?" she says this in complete seriousness. I raise my eyebrows.
"surprisingly, that did not come up in conversation. he's really nice, though."
"I knew it! he seems like the sweetest guy. oh my god, wait-- what does he smell like?" she starts to rattle off a series of questions that I try to answer adequately. a lot of them I don't really know how to answer, just because I haven't had a traditional assistant role. everything about Matthew precludes normal, and it seems his life is the same.
when I tell her about the Kimono Incident, she agrees with him that it was a supernatural occurrence. Ren starts to braid her own hair while we talk, but then she gets bored and turns on Criminal Minds so that I can watch with her.
"you need to get a feel for the directorial style so that when he asks for your help on set, you're all informed." she says. I nod like this isn't just an excuse for her lusting after my boss.
"I can't watch more than one." I tell her, dimming the LED lights around the room to a cool white.
"why?" she smirks. "you afraid you'll be too attracted to him?"
I think back to Friday morning when he swung open his apartment door in his turtleneck. I'd seen pictures from Google searches, but I was in no way prepared for him to look that good in the flesh. at forty, he's structured like a Greek god.
"yes!" I throw my head back into my pillow. he honestly is way too good-looking and it's going to mess up my work schedule.
"I'm sure he's used to it." she shrugs.
"what do you mean?"
"like, I'm sure a bunch of girls are all over him all the time. he probably gets around, too. I doubt he'll care about your little crush, if he even notices it."
"but I'll notice it. and I don't have a crush on him-- he's just objectively cute." I groan. "why couldn't I have gotten an internship with, like, Steve Buscemi or something?"
"that would be interesting." Ren laughs.
the episode plays in the background on her laptop while I work on editing a video. frankly, I don't even have the time to watch a show. with midterms coming up, my mind is going to be split between my final project and doing well at this job.
Ren takes up half the bed watching the program and then using my microwave to pop her own popcorn. when she hops back onto the mattress, she pinches my elbow.
"ow!" I rub my arm.
"are you going to Jake's tomorrow? we're doing sangria and movie night."
"what movie?" I narrow my eyes.
"Frances Ha, I think. c'mon, it'll be fun."
"I don't know if I can. I have no idea how long I'll be working." I shrug. that's the one con about this whole assistant job; I have to be prepared to help Matthew for more hours than a traditional 9 to 5. he hasn't asked anything unreasonable, but it makes planning for downtime a lot more complicated.
"tell Gubler that your friends want to get drunk. plus, Jake is definitely into you. he'll be sad if you don't go." she pouts. images of sitting on Jake's discount couch with cheap fruity wine and his hand on my thigh flood my mind. honestly, I'm not too keen on the idea.
"I'm not fucking a guy named Jake." I scoff. she flips onto her stomach, flinging her fuzzy-socked feet in the air.
"I'm just saying."
"I know."
this chapter is short for the sake of not going too crazy on the first go, but eek! I'm excited for this one. I've been jotting down little plot point ideas all week. thanks for reading this far if you have lmao. I will be going into overdrive with finishing moontide and putting this in motion, but I'm okay with that.