It’s been two weeks since my first encounter with Asher. Every morning I wonder if today is the day I will run into him again. More importantly, every day I wonder if today will be the day he will return one of my messages.
I’ve sent every invoice and production idea up to Asher’s office and have yet to hear from him. I’ve been moving forward with the preliminary work, but without his final approval, I can’t confirm anything. I asked Malory about it this morning and she told me to wait on Asher.
I feel like I’m in limbo. This event is only two months away and I can’t get anything done. If he doesn’t answer me by the end of the week, I’m going to move forward with my plans.
Malory also informed me this morning I need to buy a dress for the gala. I assumed I’d be wearing something professional like a suit since I’ll be working. She said I need to dress in formal attire and looked at me like I had three heads due to the fact I didn’t know this. So now I also have to add “find an evening gown” to the list.
Malory and I step off the elevator and I see those goddamn white roses again.
Yes, they’re still alive.
And they’re not just alive; they’re flourishing.
Every time I see them, I swear they’re getting bigger. I think my mind is playing tricks on me. It’s quite possible it is.
As annoyed as I am to see the roses, I can’t stop myself from smelling them. That heavenly scent of rose mixed with the vanilla accent has become part of my morning ritual.
Looking beyond the flowers, I notice a mound of red hair piled on the desk, buried under porcelain hands.
“Is everything okay?” I say, swinging around the partition to see the usually bubbly and exuberant Trish looking upset.
Trish pops up from her state of distress. Wiping her face with her palms, she tries to gain composure.
“Oh, it’s nothing. Just a bad day at the office.” Trish’s eyes drift up to Malory. She must be embarrassed to say what’s bothering her in front of someone else.
I turn around and face Malory. “I’ll catch up with you later.”
Malory looks back and forth from me to Trish. If she didn’t wear a constant veil of confidence I’d think she were offended by being dismissed. With a nod, she turns on her heel and heads down the concrete corridor.
Resting my hand on Trish’s bony shoulder, I lean down. “Do you want to talk about it?”
Letting out a sigh, Trish resigns and opens up. “It was stupid. I shouldn’t have asked…”
“Asked what?” I kneel down, bringing myself eye level with her.
Trish swoops her long braid around her shoulder and plays with it between her fingers. “Well, with all the extra work I’m doing with Heather and having to maintain my post here, I thought now would be a perfect time to ask for a raise.”
Asking for a raise doesn’t seem out of the norm. I’ve watched Trish bow to Heather’s every whim. The two have been like Wile E. Coyote and the Road Runner with Trish zipping around the office, bouncing from fax machine to delivering proposals to getting coffee and making phone calls.
And from the looks of it… “You didn’t get it?”
“No,” Trish says, looking at me with big brown eyes. “It’s okay. I mean, it’s not a real promotion. It’s only until the concerts are over, but…” Trish clenches her teeth.
“But what?” I lean my head to the side.
“It’s that damn Heather. I’m only an assistant and she’s had me working on things an associate producer would do. I don’t mind the work. It’s what I want to do. I want to learn more, you know?” Trish pulls her braid into her mouth
I rub her shoulder with the palm of my hand. “Honey, don’t take Heather’s attitude personally. She hates everyone. I’ve been here for five minutes and already know that.”
“Yes, but Erik was going to give me the raise. He heard my proposal and thought it was valid. I was so excited.” Trish leans her head down and lowers her voice to almost a whisper. “Then I intercepted an email between Erik and Mr. Asher where Mr. Asher denied my raise.”
My hand instantly stops rubbing; my body becomes tense in anger. “What?” I say entirely too loud.
Trish further lowers her head and keeps her voice low. “Mr. Asher said due to Heather’s review of me and input on the matter, I was denied a raise and Erik should evaluate whether I am suitable to assist Heather during this very critical venture for the company.”
My teeth clench and I can feel the blood simmer in my veins. Why are people so cruel? I don’t know Trish well and have worked with her for a brief time, but it is painfully obvious how devoted she is to the company and that she’s a hard worker.
She is also quite the little spy.
“Trish, do you have access to everyone’s email?”
Her face turns green as her eyes grow wide with mild panic. “No, just Erik’s. He gave me access last year when he went to Australia and would be out of pocket at times. When he returned, he neglected to revoke my administrative rights to read his email.” Trish catches herself. “But I swear, I never read them! This was a one-time scenario. I just knew something was wrong.”
I lean closer and give her frail frame a half hug. “It’s okay, Trish. I know you didn’t mean any harm.” Maybe it’s the mother in me. I feel very protective of this girl. It’s nice to know I can be to her what Malory was to me.
Our moment is disrupted when the elevator bell chimes and the doors slowly swing open. Trish’s eyes light up at the sight of a boy wearing acid-wash jeans and a T-shirt labeling an indie band. His hair is disheveled and his sneakers are untied. He looks more like a boy than a man, straight out of college. This must be the Kevin I’d heard about during our little coffee breaks.
My suspicions are confirmed when he rounds the desk and pulls his distraught girlfriend up from her chair
“Are you okay? You didn’t sound like yourself in your voicemail.” Kevin kisses Trish’s hair as he wraps one hand around her head and the other around her waist. It’s a beautiful sight. Memories of Gabriel and me at that age flash through my head. It wasn’t that long ago, yet it seems like a hundred years have passed.
After a long afternoon of calls, emails, and a ton of paperwork, I’m spent. I have a spreadsheet started with a timeline for the event and am slowly filling in the details. Erik wants a finalized itinerary by Friday, but I don’t know how I’m going to make this happen. At my old job, we worked on projects like these for months, not weeks. What if I forget a crucial component of the event, overlook something, or drop the ball?
I don’t know when I became so insecure. After college, I was ready to take on the world. There was no job I couldn’t or wouldn’t do.
My career started at Diamond Black Media, a small production company similar to Asher Marks, but it wasn’t owned by a major conglomerate. I heard of the job through the wife of an old baseball buddy of my father’s. She worked in production and knew that’s what I was studying in college. The company created reality shows and sold the rights to various outlets from network television to cable and Internet. My role there was far from glamorous. I answered phones, went on coffee runs, and walked beta tapes from one office to the next. All videos were shot on beta video at that company, and I never knew what was on the tape I was carrying, just that it had to go from one person to the next. I often wondered if I was smuggling drugs or something in those cases the way people went crazy if their tape didn’t arrive on someone’s desk on time.
I did the job dutifully until they offered me a job as an office assistant and then a production assistant. When Diamond Black split, I met Malory and spent the next few years becoming a producer on various concerts and live events, similar to what I’m doing now. I learned a long time ago I was very good at logistics and timetables. Apparently, not everyone is good at that.