CHAPTER 3
TRACY
“Good morning, Miss Baker,” Kim, Tracy’s new personal assistant, hummed eagerly.
“Tracy. Please call me Tracy.”
“Yes, ma’am. There’s coffee on your desk. It’s black because I didn't know how you take it, but I left you some sugar and cream. Also, I pulled your schedule up on your computer. And everything is ready for your ten o'clock.”
“I take my coffee black. Thank you, Kim,” Tracy said as she entered her office.
She tossed her briefcase on the small conference table and walked over to her desk to retrieve her liquid crack. Tracy was terribly addicted to coffee. She’d already had two cups before she left her house. She inhaled deeply before taking a careful sip.
“Mmm,” Tracy moaned.
If her very competent new assistant were ever to become incompetent, she would always have a job with Tracy because of her mad coffee-making skills.
Tracy walked over to the window and watched the hustle and bustle of a busy Chicago. Growing up in Louisiana, she was fascinated by big cities. There was always something going on, something to do. Her eyes landed on Storm Tower. She instantly thought of Victoria and the conversation they’d had earlier. Victoria had called her, way too early, complaining about Jack’s new assistant. Apparently, she was very high-handed and didn’t know her place. Translation…she was pretty. Tracy chuckled through Victoria’s entire rant. Her friend could never be labeled as insecure, but since having Jack Jr., Victoria was a bit self-conscious about her body. Hell, she looked amazing to Tracy. Victoria was the mother of two with a body most women would kill for. But unfortunately, that wasn't what Victoria saw when she looked in the mirror. Tracy concluded that Victoria was just hormonal.
Tracy moved away from the window and sat behind her normally chaotic desk. It was somehow in perfect order, possibly due to her PA’s apparent obsessive-compulsive disorder. She clicked the mouse to wake her computer and checked her schedule. With her ten o’clock being the only meeting for the day, she would have enough time to work on a few of her current accounts and develop new strategies to land new accounts.
Tracy was the chief operating officer of Howard and Leeman LLC, one of the biggest international marketing firms in the United States. She loved her work, and she was good at it. She was the first black person, woman or man, to acquire such a position within the firm. And it was a title she’d earned by landing more major accounts than any of her male counterparts. But even still, there were those that believed that because of Tracy’s appearance, she had to have fucked her way to the top. Their assumption couldn't have been more wrong. Tracy had never been romantically involved with anyone at work. She didn't shit where she ate.
“Miss…um…Tracy, Mrs. Storm in on the line,” Kim informed via intercom.
“Which one? Never mind. It doesn't matter. Put her through.”
Tracy didn't quite feel like listening to Victoria rant about Jack’s PA, but she wasn't about to ignore her friend. She picked up the receiver.
“Hey. Which Mrs. Storm is this?”
“The sane one,” Natasha responded. “Victoria is driving me crazy, so I talked her into leaving work after lunch to get a mani-pedi.”
Tracy chuckled softly. “Tales of Jack’s new assistant?”
“She won't stop talking about her. I’m getting a little worried. You know Victoria’s crazy ass. They might find that poor lady’s body floating in the Chicago River.”
Tracy laughed, picturing Victoria trying to hide the poor secretary’s body.
“Vic knows that Jack loves her dirty drawers. He would never cheat on her. Besides, why would he cheat? He’s got it made with Victoria, if you know what I mean.”
Natasha was referring to Victoria’s bisexuality and the fact that Jack and Victoria often indulged in threesomes with women of Victoria’s choosing.
“Yeah, I know what you mean. But I think the women are more for Vic’s enjoyment than his. I believe Jack would be perfectly content with a traditional marriage,” Tracy pointed out.
“Whatever. That heffa is suffering from postpartum depression, so I’m gonna take her to the salon. I told her that we needed to get our nails done for the party tonight. But really, I’m trying to keep her ass out of prison. Wanna come?”
Tracy glanced at her computer screen and looked at her lenient schedule.
“Yeah. Why not? I’ll meet you at Storm Tower at twelve-fifteen.”
“Cool. I’ll see you later.”
“Wait! Tasha!” Tracy called into the phone, hoping that Natasha had not hung up yet.
“I’m here. Wassup?”
“Is Tammy gonna be joining us?”
