JAMIE
I wake up and Morgan is gone. I gather the t-shirt she loaned me up to my nose and take a deep breath—the slightest hint of her scent remains.
As I make myself a cup of coffee, my phone buzzes. My heart jumps—I hope it’s Morgan.
Instead, it’s an unknown number, but I read the message anyway.
Hey! It’s Eileen, Morgan’s assistant. She wanted me to let you know that she’s super sorry, but something came up this morning. I just got into town, and I’m planning on doing some shopping—you want to join?
That’s the life of a CEO, I guess. No wonder Morgan doesn’t have time for TV. I feel a little guilty for wasting a few hours of her evening, but I’m sure she would have complained if she were bothered.Verysure.
I reply to Eileen,Sure, sounds great! Would love to meet you.
With a promptness that I’m sure Morgan demands, Eileen replies,Great, lobby in 20?
Perfect.
I finish my coffee, get dressed, and head down to meet Eileen.
I don’t recognize her until she waves and says my name from her chair by the lobby fountain, because she looks like she just walked off the runway.
Long blonde hair, bright blue eyes, model-tall and slender. She’s wearing a pink tweed suit with a flower-like ruffle at the lapel, bold square shoulders, and a figure-skimming skirt. Her bag and shoes match, both Gucci.
“Nice to meet you, Eileen.”
“Likewise,” she says with a sweet smile. “Though I kinda feel like I already know you.”
I blink, unsure how to process that.
“From all the events,” she clarifies.
“O-oh, right.” Ihavebeen sharing some pretty personal stuff…
“I’ll fill you in on me so we’re even. Coffee?”
“S-sure.” Only after my mouth is shut do I remember I just drank a coffee in the room. Oh well.
I half expect Eileen to lead me somewhere super trendy and upscale with coffee that’s going to change my life, but when she leads me to the Starbucks next to the hotel, I feel a lot more at-ease.
Eileen rattles through her life story: middle child of three, gymnastics and cheerleading, wanted to be a fashion designer.
“Graduated college, then realized that I didn’t really want to design high fashion, so much as have enough money to buy it.” She shrugs lightly. “So I pivoted.”
“How’d you end up working for Morgan?”
“Well, I picked up a part-time executive assistant gig with the intention of getting a master’s degree. Then I found out I’m pretty damn good at it, so I found another job that was full time.That exec eventually left our company for Artemis, then tipped Morgan off when she was looking. I’ve been working with her ever since.”
“How long’s that been?”
“Five years now? Something like that.”
Eileen gets to the front of the line and rattles off her order like she’s said it every day of her life. “And I’ll get his too,” she says to the barista.
I order the featured latte because it’s on a poster in giant print right behind the counter, and Eileen thanks the barista in the local language as she pays, even though I’m pretty sure the barista is Australian.
“Thank you,” I say.
“No problem.” She flashes a bit of black metal as she returns it to her purse. “Company card.”
