Summer Shorts - Anthology

A New York Minute by AnnieTheAuthor

A New York Minute by AnnieTheAuthor

Nothing quite prepares you for the change in seasons in New York. No one can begin to explain how warm it becomes, how clammy it feels, how it doesn't matter whatever you wear, it will always cling to you in the wrong places.

It didn't stop me from loving it.

Loving the warm rush as the train hit the platform in the subway, the distant sound of Shakespeare performances in the park, the chatter of the girls from the Upper East Side as they craved to be like Blair and Serena. It was definitely a step up from the wind and rain of Manchester, England, no matter what season it was.

But as I jumped out of the cab at the side of the road, it all didn't seem worth it. My brow was sweaty, my Touche Éclat was melting down my face, last year's Marc Jacob's dress was catching in between my bum cheeks, and I was late.

And no one was ever late for Alex Owens.

"You're late." He snarled, the entire boardroom cowering in their seats as he addressed me.

"Here's your venti latte, half soy milk and half low fat, a shot of regular espresso, and a shot of decaf espresso, shot of vanilla, and a tablespoon of whipped cream on the top, Sir." I couldn't help but be smug, leaning across the table, allowing most of the marketing team to have a glimpse down my shift dress. If he was going to reprimand me in a room full of people, I was at least going to have fun with it.

"I've left you some easy tasks on your desk. I'm sure even you can't mess them up, Helena." He barely looked my way as he shuffled some papers, intent on carrying on with his meeting.

"It's Eleanor," I said, for possibly the hundredth time since starting this job.

"Like I said, even a fool couldn't do them wrong Helena. On your way." He clicked his fingers, and like that, I was dismissed.

My daily encounters with young CEO Alex Owens were like this. Insults, smugness, and petty squabbling, but I couldn't help myself. He was an arse, and to wind him up some more, I left the boardroom door slightly ajar, which I knew would mess with his OCD. Any other boss, I'd pack up my manila files and leave, but Alex Owens was an advertising and marketing extraordinaire, and even if though I was just his assistant, it was an honour to work for the company.

Taking a seat at my desk, I stared into the glass boardroom where they all met. His glare was intensely on me as I kicked off my heels, and got comfy for the day. He kept his eye on me, and I was reluctant to drop his stare, I couldn't let him win.

Annoyingly, he was like every stereotypical guy from a contemporary romance novel. Perfect bone structure, designer stubble and piercing blue eyes, eyes that could tempt you to do just about anything. And right now, I was tempted just to go in and kiss the arsehole out of him. I can appreciate a good looking guy, and in all fairness, Alex Owen's is pretty much a god in that department, but he is also a Grade A toss pot!

"Elle, aren't you looking beautiful today." Ahh, Annabelle Owens, Alex's mother - the only thing that proves he wasn't actually spawned from the devil. "Your dress is gorgeous."

"It's only last year's, Marc Jacobs." I shrugged off, accepting her hug and then quickly offering to make her a cup of coffee.

"I'm clearly paying you too much, for the little you do, if you can afford Marc Jacobs." Alex appeared from the boardroom, kissing his mother's cheek, in return receiving a slap on his arm.

"You don't pay this young girl enough for the hell you put her through. Elle, sweetheart, he's not normally this rude." His mother assured, tutting at him disapprovingly.