Page 11 of One Night in Vegas

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Page 11 of One Night in Vegas

The system worked. I didn’t think it was a good idea to mess with something that was working just fine.

5

MACY

Ispent the rest of the day counting down the hours and then the minutes. After lunch, the minutes dragged. I could slam Red Bull all day and it never made a difference. I felt like a slug. At four o’clock, I officially clocked out. I always felt like I was running out the door. I supposed I was. I couldn’t get out fast enough. I drove straight to the studio where I was meeting Trisha for our Barre class.

“How was your day?” she asked.

“I’m shopping for my new cardboard box,” I replied. I was surrendering to defeat. “I can’t do it. I’m so done. I’m finishing out this semester and that’s it. I’m going to quit and hopefully the universe steps up and takes care of me. If not, I’m just going to hit the road. I’ve always wanted to travel. I’ve seen plenty of people do it without a penny to their name. I’ll sell what I have and go. You can afford the apartment without me.”

“Or you could just find a sugar daddy,” she teased.

“At this point, I’m willing to open my mind to just about anything,” I told her. “I’ve reached my limit. I cannot take another year of this. I’m out. Harold is going to have to find someone else to chase him around reminding him of things he’s been told a hundred times. I swear I could tattoo shit on his arm, forehead, chest, and he would still forget.”

“How is he still working?” she asked.

“Because the man is a genius, and although he is absolutely senile when it comes to daily life, he is still a good teacher. Apparently. That’s what I hear. I avoid his classes when I can.”

“Well, I don’t want to get your hopes up, but I think I might have a lead for you,” she said.

I slapped her shoulder. “Why didn’t you lead with that?”

“Because I don’t know if it’s anything,” she said. “It was just a rumor. I haven’t been able to verify it.”

“Oh my gosh,” I breathed. “What is it? What’s the job?”

“An executive assistant for one of my clients,” she said. “Like I said, I don’t know if it’s really going to open up.”

“It’s a glimmer of hope,” I said. “Anything. An executive assistant does what exactly? Harold’s idea of an executive assistant is a lot different than what most people would categorize it as.”

“Basically, a work wife,” she answered. “You organize their schedule, get their coffee, and probably lunch. If they have a wife or girlfriend, you run cover for them. You make sure they remember birthdays and anniversaries. You are their gatekeeper.”

I nodded as she talked. “I could do that.”

“I know you could,” she said. “And you wouldn’t be in some dark, dingy office.”

“What client?”

“I’m not exactly sure who, but it’s for a watch company,” she said. “I’ll get you the information. From what I understand, it’s someone high up the food chain. You would be a legit executive assistant.”

“I’m intrigued. I want it. Anything would be better than what I have right now.”

We changed and joined the class. It felt good to get some exercise. I always liked joining her after a long day. I had to work out the frustrations I felt or I was going to go crazy.

I stretched out my leg and knelt. It felt good. Amazing.

“A watch company?” I asked.

“Yes. It’s an account I really love. All the people we work with are really nice and respectful. Sometimes, we get some pretty big jackasses. They want the moon and stars, and then a minute later, they want the sun. This team is good. You can tell they all enjoy their jobs, which means it has to come from the top. That has to mean something.”

“Gee, a boss people like? That’s a foreign concept.”

“Not so foreign,” she said. “There are a lot of good bosses. You just got one that is not so good.”

“Don’t I know it,” I muttered.

“I put out some feelers,” she said. “I’m hoping someone will know something by the end of the week.”




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