Chapter 15
Lexie
At nine sharp, I plop my bottom into my chair behind the reception desk. I arrange my supplies in preparation for the day ahead of me. Answering the phone, transferring calls, and greeting customers doesn’t sound glamorous but it’s hard work, and I enjoy it. I know I could probably make more money being an administrative assistant, but I like the fact that I don’t take orders from anyone. I’m my own boss, in a way. Except when I’m not. Like the times Katya uses me asherassistant, having me do menial tasks like making copies, stuffing envelopes, labeling files, etc.
Today is just one of those days. When I look to the left side of my desk, I see a stack of papers and folders about a foot high with a typed and printed punch list for me to complete for her today. I sigh because I know I’m going to do it. I’d rather not argue with her about any of it. I’ll just get it done. It’ll make my life easier. No good would come out of me complaining about Katya. She’s his executive, er, administrative assistant. I’m his pretend date / receptionist. There’s no comparison.
When the first call of the day rings in, I pick up my headset, “Good morning. Parker and Associates, how may I direct your call?”
“Public Relations department please.”
“Sure, one moment.” I transfer the call to Cammy’s phone and quickly click over to the next caller. One after another, people call asking for Cammy’s department. “I wonder what’s going on? I bet it has something to do withCrazy Christine.”
“What about Crazy Christine?” Gabriel asks sifting through my candy dish.
I reach into my drawer and pull out a new bag of Root Beer Barrels. “Here. I forgot to refill the bowl.”
“Thanks,” he says looking over the counter and down at me. “You look nice today.”
“Oh, um, thank you.” I wore one of the new outfits he bought for me. It’s a red pencil skirt that I’ve paired with a deep green blouse. See? It’s Christmas-y without being ‘idiosyncratic'.
“Green looks lovely with your hair.”
“Thank you.”
“Now, what were you saying about ‘Crazy Christine’?”
“Nothing. There’s just been a lot of calls for Cammy today. I just assumed they were about her.”
“They could be about you.” He pauses. “And me.”
“True.” Oh, gosh, I hope not.
“Your picture was in the paper from the opening last night. Did you see it?”
“No,” I groan. “And I don’t want to. I take hideous pictures.”
“I’ll have to agree to disagree,” he says pulling out his phone. Holding the screen out for me I see him, his back and part of me. It’s the picture from the kiss at the gallery. Luckily, most of my body has been obscured by the big man himself. You can see part of one leg and my hair. Otherwise, he’s wrapped around me, immersed in the kiss.
“Wow, that’s, uh, sexy.”
“It is.” He winks. “It was.” Leaning over the desk to whisper. “I couldn’t stop thinking about those lips of yours last night.”
I feel the hot heat of a blush run up from my chest to my face in zero point one second. I can’t think of a thing to say so when the phone rings; I quickly pick it up, “Good morning, Parker and Associates, how may I direct your call?” I pause as I listen, “Yes, he’s right here. May I ask who’s calling?” I listen for a beat then add, “Alright, Mr. Clark, let me transfer you.”
“Mr. Parker, your attorney is on line two for you.”
He sighs, “Oh, good. Give me a minute and transfer it to my office directly.” I watch him take long strides back to his office. When his door closes, I transfer the call.
By lunchtime, I’m pooped. The calls have been coming in non-stop, as have the stacks of ‘busy work’ that Katya keeps dumping on my desk. I don’t know why she’s having me do this work for her because whenever I look back toward her desk, she’s either playing solitaire on her computer (since I can see her screen from here), or she’s doing her nails. No. I suspect she’s just dumping her work on me because she’s a b-i-t-c-h.
When Kim comes to relieve me for lunch I sigh, “Oh, good. You’re early. I need to make some copies for Katya before I go to lunch.”
“Why are you doing her work?” she asks looking back toward Katya’s desk.
“No idea.” I grab the stack of papers and march into the copy room. After the Copy-gate incident, I learned how to use the machine like a professional. Now I can copy one sided and two sided; I can sort, collate, bind, bundle, hole punch, and so much more.
Walking quickly into the copy room, I set the originals down, so I can program the machine to create a booklet of copies for a meeting Mr. Parker is having after lunch. “Nothing like leaving things for the last minute,” I mutter.
