“Oh, wow. Well, I’d be honored to step in.” I take a deep breath, my heart thudding. “Finally, a chance to go upstairs for more than just delivering mail. A chance to really… make a difference.”
Amara steps closer, wings fluttering slightly behind her, her voice light but teasing. “Vanessa’s the Head of Creative—you’re moving up to the grown-ups’ table. This is your chance to show off all those lofty ideas you’re always talking about. When I hired you last year, you were so hungry for every scrap of experience. Your eagerness is endearing." She leans in a bit, a playful glint in her eye. “And all your hard work is paying off—it’s time to spread your wings.” She cringes. “Sorry, poor turn of phrase.” She shrugs, feathers flitting. “Are you excited?”
“Nervous,” I admit. “Her office is the size of my apartment.”
“You live in atinystudio.”
“Yes, but still. And I’ve heard her calendar looks like someone lost a bet with Satan.”
“That’s because Vanessa Voss is Satan,” Amara says with a grin. “Or at least his distant cousin. Seriously. It’s in her BR file.” She taps her talons on the table. “You’ll be fine. Keep your head down, take notes, and don’t flirt with anyone.”
I blink. “Why would I?—”
“Jamie.” Her tone sharpens, BR mode activated. “Company policy: noextracurricular activitieswith coworkers.” She takes a slow sip of tea. “Especially bosses.”
I try to play dumb, which is hard when my ears go red on their own schedule. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Greg takes a seat next to me, green hand on his stomach, and clears his throat. “Mr. Trainor.”
I groan. “I don’t—okay, yes, maybe I’ve noticed Magnus Trainor. Once. Or twice. Or every time he takes the elevator, and it sounds like the cables are weeping under the strain of his thighs. But he doesn’t know I exist. And even if he did, I’m going to be professional. The epitome of professionalism. If you looked up professional in the BR manual, there’d be a photo of me smiling. No teeth.”
I give them my best, subdued grin.
Greg snorts. “Yeah, because you just finished spanking it thinking about the CEO.”
Amara laughs so hard she nearly spills her tea. “You’re doomed.”
Before I can retort, my phone buzzes. Vanessa’s name flashes across the screen.
It’s her.
I hold up my phone for Amara and Greg.
“Your new boss,” Greg says.
Amara juts her head forward. “Well, are you going to answer it?”
“Yes, of course. Answer.”
I fumble my phone but manage to answer before it goes to voicemail.
“Vanessa? Um, sorry. Ms. Voss?”
Her voice is tinny, staticky, like she’s calling from inside a coffin. “Jamie Torres? Is this you? A lovely harpy in BR gave me your cell. Are you in my office?”
“Yes, ma’am. Ms. Voss. I mean, it’s me. Jamie Torres. Not that I’m in your office. I’m not. Not yet. But I can be. Soon. I’m headed there as we speak.”
I nod to Amara and Greg, gather my belongings from the small table where I’ve been sorting mail for the last year, and ready myself to leave.
“Darling, a favor.” Vanessa’s voice curls into my ear. “I’ve got a meeting with Magnus. Three sharp. You’ll have to take it.”
My stomach drops like a meteor crashing into the sea. “What?”
This stops me in my tracks, Amara and Greg watching my every reaction.
“You’ll be brilliant. BR said you’ve been delivering mail like your job depends on it. Which I suppose it does. Or did. Now you’re my right-hand… sidekick, lackey, minion, pick your poison. You get the idea, dear. And today, that means meeting with the CEO. It’s our kickoff for planning the big pitch for the city’s outreach initiative. Again, horrible timing on my part. But you can handle it. I’ll give you my notes.” She clears her throat. “It’s very PR. Very marketing. Very sunshine-and-rainbows. It would be a tremendous deal if Crownpoint selected us. Our firm has the most diverse workforce in the city. This is our opportunity to show the city we’re not just capable but indispensable. They just have to select us. Come to think of it, maybe it’s a blessing I’m… away. You bring a perspective we don’t have yet.”
“I do?”
