Chapter 3: The 'Elebration'
I grinned triumphantly at my brand new employee card. I'd been staring at it since I'd gotten it ten minutes ago from the receptionist downstairs.
"I'd always heard plastic is actually a girl's best friend," a familiar voice said.
I laughed and lowered the card, revealing Evan.
"Shut up! I'm happy."
"Well I would be too, if I were you. I'm pretty sure you made a record."
"Really?"
"Hired after two days? Yeah! In fact," he said thoughtfully, placing a finger on his chin, "I think the only record more impressing is the girl who got fired after ten minutes."
I raised my eyebrow. "You're joking."
"I kid you not. Now, getting back to you, how does a celebratory lunch sound?"
"Uh... great?"
"Perfect! I'll meet you here." He winked at me and swiftly disappeared around the corner.
I shook my head in amusement and leaned back in my chair. I was still reeling. I couldn't think of a thing I'd done yesterday to impress Mr Harbour enough to hire me. Sure, I'd made him smile, but that hardly counted. I was tapping my employee card absentmindedly on the desk when the office phone beeped strangely. I looked over at it and immediately jumped up. I knocked thrice on Mr Harbour's door then entered.
"I see you found your way this morning," he said.
I squinted into the sun. He was sitting in that annoying position again, where he faced straight ahead
and could probably see me perfectly, but all I saw was a black form.
I guessed he wasn't really one for pleasantries, so I skipped the 'Good morning, Mr Harbour' and replied, feeling slightly embarrassed. "I don't make the same mistake twice."
"Well then I made a good choice, hiring you."
"Mr Harbour, about that, I just wanted to say -"
"You don't need to thank me; hiring you was purely a business decision."
I smirked. "Actually I was going to say that I might be a little late after lunch; Evan's taking me for a celebratory lunch."
I wished I could see his face, curious to see if the great Dean Harbour could feel embarrassed, but no such luck. My eyes still hadn't adjusted to the blinding sunlight flooding the room. There was an awkward pause, then he cleared his throat.
"That's fine."
I walked up to his desk. "What did you want me for?"
I could see him perfectly now. His hair, as black as his tie, looked like it had been quickly combed through once; his azure eyes stared at me in a way that made me feel strangely uncomfortable. Finally he held out a stack of manila folders that I took, then he handed me a page.
"File those. As for this, it's the number of Adam Verné, one of our main advertisers. Call him and set up
a meeting for sometime next week; any time you're available."
I frowned. "I'll be meeting with him?"
"That's right."
I nodded and tried to conceal my angst about him throwing me into the deep end, as I walked over to the filing cabinet and carefully placed the folders in their correct spots. When I was done, I stepped away and turned to him.
