chapter eleven
Denali
It's beena week since the incident. A week filled with sporadic calls from blocked numbers, most of which, if I bothered to answer them, if I were brave enough to pick it up and face him, would likely contain a whole lot of breathing, a vague insult or two, some thinly-veiled threats, and then an abrupt disconnection.
At least there have been no more flowers. But it's bad enough that he knows where I live now.
With the money I'm making working for Kai, I can afford to go back to my old therapist, so I call in to her practice and schedule an appointment, hoping she'll be able to see me very soon. I need to renew my medication for this crippling anxiety and panic, and I need her to do that. And maybe it wouldn't be too bad of an idea to talk to someone about this shit who has always been in my corner.
Kai's busy today, like he is every day, but today is special, because today, half his appointments overlap. It'll be up to me to juggle them, weasling out of some engagements early, hoping not to keep too many people waiting overall.
We're off to a great start, considering what I have to accomplish. Of course, this one will be the deciding moment.The one that determines if I stand a chance of making all this work.
I have to tell Kai to wrap up dance practice early. And I know how he feels about that.
"No, no, no,no!It's all wrong! Start it over, and this time, tell me what I'm doing wrong?—"
The new choreographer, Burke, is a stout Australian man with a charming smile and a beautiful, angular nose. His name feels almost too rough for such an Adonis. But he's no-nonsense, and Kai likes that about him, so they work well together. I have high hopes that he'll last a lot longer than the others.
"Okay, Mister Kai," he says with a wink in my direction. He's been pretty flirty with me, and while normally, I would flirt back, just to be polite, today I can't even work up a smile for him. I'm too stressed, drowning in the tasks laid out before me, to pay him any mind. "Once again, from the top."
I watch them struggle through the moves, and I see it at the same time that Burke does, though I keep my mouth shut to see if he'll mention it to the perfectionist king himself. Will Burke brave the tumultuous storm that is Kai's attitude?
"You're off still," he points out, stepping up next to him as he restarts the track. "When you move from the bridge to the chorus, instead of twisting your whole arm, try twisting your wrist only, and flick your hand out—like this."
They work through the move until he gets it right, and the atmosphere changes dramatically when he continues to nail it. I'm happy he's happy, but I'm too distracted to celebrate with him. My mind is elsewhere.
On getting out of here on time. Which means early. Which means I'm about to ruin their night.
"Uh, Burke, Kai—I hate to cut the party short, but we have to leave early today. We have a bunch of back to backs and if wedon't head out now, we won't get to the podcast filming in time. And after that is?—"
"It's not my fault you overbooked me," Kai huffs, staring me down like he's challenging me to say something to the contrary. "I'm not ending my practice early just because you're failing in your job as my assistant." His eyes narrow, hands plant on his hips, and he's suddenly become a condescending prick, like he was on day one. "You're slipping. Get it together, Stone."
And just like that, he turns back to the dance instructor and they return to work, dismissing me.
I'm so stunned I can't speak. I also can't stand here a minute longer, because there's no way in hell I'm going to let him think that his jabs on my competence got to me in any way. Instead of just waiting around and being insulted further, I just turn around and walk off.
Right out the front door and out onto the sidewalk.
The air is humid, makes my skin feel instantly sticky, but what am I going to do? There's nothing else to do but suffer. So I do. I suffer all the way across the street, to the little cafe serving my favorite flavor of tea and my second-favorite muffins. I offer the guy behind the counter a smile when he throws one at me, and when his female counterpart calls my name for the order, I give her one, too.
See, Kai Kobayashi? It's not that hard to be polite and smile at someone, even if you barely know them. Even if they're just an employee. Even if?—
Even if you're drowning in your own shit.
My work phone rings, so I pick it up without thinking. It's Arista, checking in to see if I'll make the appointment. The one Kai's working on missing because he won't leave the dance studio. I have to tell her. I have to admit my failure, have to concede defeat. I'm not the capable employee she hoped I'd be.
Here's where she fires me.
"So, you'll be late, then? I can just tell them we had a mishap at the company?—"
"It puts the whole day's schedule off, though. We're overbooked today, thanks to the demands made in that email that his agent sent over?—"
Her huff comes with a level of condescension that I've never heard from a person in my life. "I'll deal with his piece of shit agent. You just leave that to me." I can hear her typing away on her end, and I assume she's looking at his schedule. "Listen, I'll call the podcast, reschedule him there. And I'll shoot my contact at the magazine an email and tell them he's under the weather, their photographer is a germophobe, she'll beg them to reschedule him if there's a hint that he might be sick. Go ahead on your end and bump up the late night fitting for the gala to the now-empty slot, but leave yourself some breathing room. And before you do this again, remember that you're allowed to say no on his behalf, or tell people there's no space in his schedule."
"I'm not his manager, though," I mutter quietly, sipping on my tea as I stare out at the street. The people that hustle and bustle by blur into one continuous mess of chaos. I can hardly tell one from the next. "I'm just the assistant. I'm not evenqualified."
If Arista's hearing me, she's not showing it. "Oh, bullshit. You're doing fine. You've lasted the longest out of all his assistants, and he even came back twice to negotiate ore money for you to give youmoreresponsibility. Oh—is that it? Is he working you too hard? We can negotiate the contract again and put a mandatory day off in there, so you can unwind without him. There's temps that we can use to handle him for a day a week?—"
