The Boss & The Assistant - Rewritten Edition of "The Boss"

Chapter 4 - Lafayette

Things were fine at first with Emerson. He did his job well. We passed a few words everyday but otherwise there wasn't much conversation. Usually, he just phoned or emailed me any new information anyway. I felt bad, sometimes, for not engaging with him more, but he seemed to be getting along with everyone else fine. I noticed on Mondays he got lunch with Sasha. In the mornings he would chit chat with Michael and Emilio. He was a sociable guy, which is another reason why I always felt bad because he seemed eager to talk to me.

A month went by with Emerson as my new assistant. It was early August when I was having an incredibly bad day. It was a Tuesday, generally my most busy day. I woke up with a hangover from drinking with a hook up the night before. Still, I worked out early in the morning, running on little sleep. If anything, I was still a little intoxicated because it had only been a few hours. We had hooked up on the couch by Emerson's desk. I never wanted to go to the townhome and I never brought anyone into my office. Don was the only one that went into the office anyway. Then no one ever entered my private 26th floor. So usually it was on the couch outside my office. 

When Don had been my assistant, he would sometimes enter upon one of my hookups still asleep on the couch while I had already left. He tended to them, made sure they were dressed, and called them a ride home. With Emerson, I always made sure they left before I fell asleep, just in case they ever overslept. I did not want Emerson to enter upon that. I also had to be sure to not fall asleep on the couch either, because Don had walked in on me just asleep on the couch many times as well, on nights I couldn't make it to the 26th floor.

While working out, I accidentally stepped wrong while running on the treadmill (another indicator that perhaps all of the alcohol had not left my system). I did not crash land on my face but I did hurt my ankle. It was fine enough to walk on, but I definitely bent it in the wrong place so there was a tight pain radiating around my ankle. I said a few cuss words under my breath and then showered. I was of course out of shampoo so I had to go without and hope for the best. 

I went to my closet and pulled out one of my favorite black shirts, one that fit perfectly and was made of a great material. However, when I pulled it out I noticed a faded white stain on the front. I had no idea what it could have been and was already getting pissed so I threw it into the closet and pulled out a less nice shirt, one that was too thick for this weather.

Once dressed, I looked through the kitchenette for something to eat. I grabbed a packaged cupcake, a container of yogurt, and a few cheese slices. It was not a healthy breakfast but I did not care for the day. I left the 26th floor by using the elevator. The doors took longer to open but I didn't care. I logged onto the computer and things seemed to be going better for the next couple of hours. 

It was when I had to leave to attend meetings that everything went downhill. The lunch meeting involved finding a hair in my food. The following meeting involved listening to a pretentious piece of shit and having to put up with it. Then Michael and I got into a tiff again over literally nothing but that was normal.

Finally, it was at the end of the working day, when I got caught in the rain because I had had a meeting only a few buildings down so I had decided to walk. I entered the private garage that only those on the 25th floor parked in. As I waited on my elevator, I grew angry with impatience. The elevator was not coming. It was not working. There was a public elevator within the building but I could not use it while soaking wet. So I resorted to the stairs and climbed all the way up to the 25th floor. Even for me, who worked out everyday, it was tiring. It was hot in the stairwell so I was sweating as well. Since it was almost six, everyone else was most likely to be gone, thankfully.

The stairs led to the waiting area by Sasha's desk. I walked through the floor, trying to catch my breath, ready to shower again despite not having shampoo. I walked through the center door and came upon Emerson at his desk still.

"Oh, Mr. Jett, I was-"

"What are you still doing here?" I asked, staring at him in a way that made him shrink. I did not want him to see me like that - exhausted, soaking wet, disheveled.

"Well, I was getting ready to leave but then a phone call from a Richard came in and-"

I interrupted him again. "Don't-" My hand was still on the doorknob of the door. I slammed the door shut. "Stop," I said. "When he calls, you-." I stopped, clenching my jaw. "Just get out."

He nodded, staring at me with his glistening big eyes.

"You need to leave. I cannot have you here right now when I fucking look like this. Why are you here? Leave. Go do something. Go-go have a social life. What kind of person stays after work when they don't have to?"

"I'm sorry," he said quietly. "You just said one time that I can stay as late as I can. Do you need help with anything? I-I can fetch you some new clothing or-"

"No, Emerson. I just need you to get out. I feel like I've said this plenty of times already so I really need you to fucking leave."

He nodded, a few tears running down his cheeks. In the moment, I did not feel bad. I was so filled with anger at the day that I didn't even realize how much I hurt him. He practically ran out of the office as I entered mine. I went into my office and threw off my shirt. I took off my socks and shoes and then listened to the voicemail from Richard where he cussed me out for not answering, calling me every name in the book.

When I rested my head on my desk, sitting in the dark office, the rain pouring outside, Richard's words still playing in my head, I thought of the look on Emerson's face. He looked so sad. Just sad, like a puppy when you accidentally step on it. When I was mean to Michael, or Don, or my family - they were mean back. I mean we were all New Yorkers. My family was part Italian-Irish from my mom's side. My father was French-Irish. We fought a lot. We yelled a lot. None of us cried. Emerson cried, though. I felt guilty. I only ever got riled up at people I was close with too, and yet there I was yelling at him.

The rest of the evening, I went up to the 26th floor and sat in the bathtub, ate an entire pot of macaroni and cheese along with a tub of ice cream, and then drank a few beers before falling asleep on the futon. It was a few hours later when I woke up and threw up. I brushed my teeth and then placed an order of groceries to be delivered, including shampoo. I scheduled for my elevator to be fixed. As I waited on my groceries to be delivered, I logged into my one and only private, incognito social media account, which was on Facebook.

I refused to have other social media and I only had ten friends: Michael, Emilio, Don, Jerry, Carla, Marion, my mother, my sister Axelle, my brother Clovis, and my grandmother. I searched Emerson's name and it appeared first. He was Facebook friends with Carla. His profile photo was of him sitting in front of a beautiful sunset, his smile going from ear to ear. I think his smile was his best feature. It beamed. His cover photo was what appeared to be a family photo. A young woman who looked exactly like him stood next to him. What appeared to be his parents stood behind them. They were all a beautiful family. I couldn't even remember the last time my family ever took a group photo.

His page was more private, but I saw a bunch of people wish him happy birthday in May. Seeing that he had just turned twenty-five only a few months ago made me feel worse. He was young and I probably ruined his perspective of this company. I wouldn't be surprised if he quit. Otherwise all that he had on his profile were a few photos from when he was younger. He looked gawky and awkward but he really did grow into his smile. On his page was a link to his Instagram, which was not private. It looked like he was a drag queen. He looked quite good in drag. His makeup was impressive and he was tagged in a photo where he did the splits.

Looking at his instagram made me realize how much I didn't know him. That alone made me realize my failure as a boss. Truth be told, most of the employees I worked directly with were my friends, so I was not used to having someone I did not know work with me. I decided I would need to change that. It was time for me to be a good boss.