Live, Laugh, Loathe

Chapter 4: Drew

Two Months Later

The elevator walls and doors in front of me are basically mirrors. Why anyone would design an elevator like that is beyond me. But that doesn't mean I won't take this opportunity to do one last outfit and makeup check before I reach the fiftieth floor. I have to make a good impression today.

I went for classy conservative today, wearing a white silk button-down blouse and a black pencil skirt. My black pumps are low-ish and have a cute little ankle strap. My hair is scraped into a low bun, and I opted for my tortoiseshell glasses over contacts.

I could probably fulfill some dude's sexy-librarian fantasy right now if I tried, but I'm going to lean into the conservative-mousy vibe instead. If not being myself at first means I don't get fired before I start receiving benefits? I'll do it every damn day.

See, three months ago, I was a shiny new grad, waving my Master's degree around like it was a golden ticket. Turns out, most companies don't want to hire me without ten years of industry experience. And the one and only job I could land in my field ended when I slapped the CFO in the face. It didn't matter that he had groped me, I was in my probationary period, and they fired me on the spot.

I refuse to feel ashamed, though, I may have a hot temper, but that man deserved the slap. I won't allow harassment against me to slide.

All that aside, I am now desperately low on funds and need this job more than I need my left boob. I'm seriously considering starting to donate plasma again, just to make ends meet.

The elevator dings, and the doors slide open. The receptionist looks up and smiles brightly; she seems nice. "Good morning. Welcome to Williamson Consulting Group. How can I help you?"

"Hi, I'm Drew Carlson. It's my first day as Ava Martin's assistant."

That's right, folks.

A Master's degree has gotten me absolutely nothing, and I'm now the shiny new executive assistant to Williamson Consulting's Chief People Officer, Ava Martins. Fuck, I hope this lands me a better position soon. At least being the CPO's assistant will give me direct contact with the kinds of projects I'm interested in.

And it pays well.

Like, really well.

My bank account can't wait.

"Oh, that's wonderful. Let me page Rebecca, our head of HR, and she'll be by shortly to collect you. Do you want anything to drink while you wait?"

"No, I'm ok but thank you. And I'm sorry, what's your name?"

"Whoops! I always seem to forget to introduce myself. I'm Allison." She blushes and then turns her attention to her phone as she dials Rebecca.

With nothing better to do than pace, I force myself to sit on one of the fancy white couches. They look pristine, and I'm suddenly nervous that I'll leave sweat stains behind. Wouldn't that be great?

Luckily, I don't have to wait long before a gorgeous Black woman comes to collect me. Her locks are fire, and she's wearing a red dress that screams, I know I look fabulous from a mile away.

"Hi Drew, I'm Rebecca." She holds out a hand to shake and gives me a once-over. "I'm going to go over some standard paperwork with you, answer any questions you might have, then turn you loose. Sound good?"

"Yes, sounds perfect." I eagerly follow her through the open office scattered with cubicles and a few collaboration spaces. A few heads pop up and watch us with curiosity, but primarily people keep working. The vibe is happy but focused. Always a good sign.