Page 4 of Keeping Denver

"Just the words I wanted to hear."

I smile. In the short amount of time I have spent with Frances, she has shown to be a lovely and patient woman. She reminds me of what I imagine a grandmother would act.

"Okay, Denver. Let's talk pay. As a new employee, you'll be placed on a mandatory ninety-day probationary period. Starting salary is fifty thousand a year. If you make it past the ninety days, your salary will increase to seventy-five thousand a year. This will include a yearly bonus, two weeks of sick leave, and two weeks of vacation. If you make it past a year, we will sit down with Mr. Hawk and renegotiate these terms. Do you agree with my current offer?"

I nearly fall out of my chair at the mention of fifty thousand dollars. I wasn't even making half of that at the diner. It takes me a second to realize Frances is staring at me expectantly because I have yet to answer her question. "Yes!" I blurt.

An hour later, after Frances and I finished ironing out the details of my employment, I leave the office and make the ten-block trek to the shelter. By the time I get there, a line has already started to form. The housing only has a limited number of beds available every night. If you want to be guaranteed a spot, you need to be in line by at least 5:00 pm. I was relieved when Frances said I was off every day at 4:00 pm. That leaves an hour to walk from work to the shelter. I also figured that after a month of working, I would have enough saved to get into a small apartment of my own. Getting in line with the others, I wait. Only thirty more days. I can do it.

Later in the night, I lay awake on the cot, finding myself too anxious to sleep. I'm also hungry. Remembering the half eaten sandwich in my bag, I sit up in bed and grab my backpack from the floor. Opening it, I gasp. Covering my mouth with the palm of my hand, I quickly look around making sure I haven't disturbed the person sleeping beside me, then look back in my bag. Not only is my leftover lunch there, but also a white paper bag with two blueberry muffins, a bag of chips and two bottles of water.

Frances. It had to be.

In the cot next to me, I hear a rustling sound, and glance at the pregnant woman sleeping. Even in sleep, she has the weight of the world written all over her face. Looking down at the food in my bag, then back at the woman, I take one of the muffins, my leftover chicken sandwich, a bottle of water, and place the items in a bag, then quietly set the bag beside her.

3

Walking to my first day of work the next morning, I curse New York's weather. It's mid-November and currently thirty degrees. It could be worse. Thank God it's not snowing. The blouse I'm presently wearing does nothing to keep me warm.

Hopefully, mother nature will hold off until I get my first check and can buy a winter coat. I hate to spend any of my money on extras because my main goal is to get out of the shelter and into an apartment, but the coat is something I can't do without much longer.

Rounding the corner, the frigid wind whips at my hair and causes my nose to run. Hugging myself to keep warm, I approach the entrance to my new workplace. As I go to step up to the door, a sleek black sedan pulls up to the curb, and a man exits the driver seat and makes his way to the back-passenger door. When the door opens, out steps the same man I saw yesterday: dark hair, chiseled jawline, and a crisp expensive navy suit. Stopping, I stare. The man is genuinely breathtaking. Everything about him exudes power, money, sex. Once again, his phone is plastered to his ear as he walks past me. I'm mesmerized as I watch the reaction of those around him. Women blatantly ogle him, and men greet him with a nod. It's not until after he disappears into the building, I regain my senses and make my way inside.

The security guard from yesterday recognizes me instantly. "Miss Hollis," he greets.

I smile and give him a little wave as I continue on my way to the elevators. I half expected Kelly to be the first face I see when stepping out of the elevator, but she and her disapproving glare are nowhere in sight. Frankly, I can do without seeing her at all.

When I make it down the hall, Frances is already seated at my desk, waiting for me. "Good morning, Denver. How are you this morning?"

"Good morning, Frances. I'm okay."

Frances waves me over. "Come sit, so we can get started." She points to the filing cabinet to our right. "You can store your bag here if you like."

Nodding, I tuck my bag into the cabinet, then grab the extra seat nearby and sit next to Frances at the computer. Over the next hour, she shows me the system and how to navigate Mr. Hawk's calendar. "This Post-It has the names of the people who you are to let through to Mr. Hawk immediately. All the others you take a message—no matter how persistent they are. Got it?"

"Yes. Always take a message aside from those here," I point to the Post-It.

Frances stands and pushes her chair aside. "Well, I'm going to leave you to it. I think you'll do just fine, dear. Remember I'm down the hall in my office if you need anything. Or press extension 202 on your phone. Don't hesitate with any questions you may have."

"Um…will I be meeting Mr. Hawk today?"

"You will," she smiles. "Mr. Hawk comes in early every day. He's already in his office." Frances points to the door directly across from my desk.

Over the next few hours, I become immersed in my new role. Frances was right; Mr. Hawk is a busy man. Luckily, the constant influx of calls had gone a long way in helping me learn the ropes. Or so I thought. It was nearing noon when the door across from my desk burst open. My new boss emerges, and he does not look happy. I freeze as Mr. Hawk appraises me with his piercing green eyes. The kind of green that reminds me of springtime in the park. And holy mother of God, he's even more striking up close. Lost in his eyes, I didn't realize how close he's gotten. Suddenly, Mr. Hawk looms over my desk. I have no choice but to tilt my head back. His face is dark, and his stare holds me captive. My heart rate picks up. I keep waiting for him to say something—only he doesn't. "Hi," I say, barely a whisper. Mr. Hawk still doesn't say anything as his nostrils flare, so I continue. "My name is Denver, Denver Hollis. I'm your new assistant." I nervously extend my hand to him.

Mr. Hawk ignores my hand as his intense green eyes continue to hold my blue one's captive, causing me to squirm in my chair. What is he waiting for? Oh, crap! I must have screwed something up. That's why he's looking at me like that. "I'm sorry," I squeak, thinking I must have done something wrong. I try desperately to keep my bottom lip from quivering and hold back the tears that threaten to escape my eyes. I can't lose this job.

Mr. Hawk flexes his fists down to his sides before he, without a word, turns on his heel and storms back into his office, slamming the door.

What the hell just happened? My shaking hand drops to the desktop, and I finally feel like I can breathe again.

A few minutes later, Frances walks in and informs me I can go to lunch. Needing to calm down, I waste no time grabbing my bag from the filing cabinet and making my way toward the elevator while avoiding Kelly's daggers along the way. Approaching the elevator, I glance over my shoulder to see Mr. Hawk heading in my direction. Making a hasty decision, I duck into the stairwell off to my right. With my hand clutching my chest, I drop my butt down onto the step and try to calm my racing heart. "Get it together, Denver." I've never had a man affect me this way.

I end up spending my entire lunch break sitting in the stairwell while eating my blueberry muffin. When I return to my desk, there is no sign of Mr. Hawk, and I don't see him for the rest of the day.

"So, how was your first day?" Frances asks as we walk out of the office together.

"Good. I think I'm getting the hang of things."