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“No—no, I have my own shoes. They’re clogs.” She pokes her leg out from her desk and wags a hideous brown clog my way.
The brown color matches the frumpy cardigan draped over her shoulders like a big, woolen potato sack.
“I don’t mean that literally,” I say as I eye the second foot she pops out from behind the desk to match the first. Two brown clogs. One green sock, one pink one. Yikes…
My watch beeps.
I am officially missing the call from one of my top pro-athlete clients. Great.
“I know, I know, I get that.” She tucks her feet back behind the desk. “Oh—I guess I should relay Vanessa’s message. She said she had an awesome time on Saturday night.”
She seems to fight a smile as she goes on. “And that the cocktails were killer. Oh, and she added kissy-lip emojis to her text. Three kisses. That’s a lot.” Her lip twitches.
I search the clutter on her desk and finally spot her name placard. Gwen Temple.
“Are you making fun of Vanessa’s text message, Mrs. Temple?”
“Oh, no.” Her blush heats her cheeks. Her blue eyes glitter with a liveliness I didn’t see, before. “Nope. I wouldn’t. I’m just trying to pass on the message accurately.”
She pushes the phone toward me again. “And make the point that I can’t cover both jobs, since your assistant has to handle personal errands, and I don’t have room in my schedule for that.”
“I’d like you to make room. I will pay you extra, of course.”
That stirs more life in those big, wide eyes.
Now that I’m paying a little more attention, her face is actually quite pretty. It has a heart shape. Her nose is cute, her lips red and plump. Her eyes are her best feature—so wide, expressive, and blue as the Caribbean sea.
“You will?”
I nod. I need to wrap this up. Now. “Whatever you want. Name your price.”
Her eyes flick over to the right.
Since I’m facing her now, I can’t see what’s over there. I swivel to the right and catch Elizabeth Rixon hitching her thumb into the air.
The meaning behind her gesture is clear, and I nod. “She’s right. You hold the cards right now, Mrs. Temple. Aim high.”
“You can call me Gwen.” She bites her lip and swivels in her chair nervously. Her elbow bumps one of the vases on her desk, and it wobbles. “I think… I think I could manage these assistant duties and my regular tasks if I put in some extra hours. Could you possibly pay me, um, three times my current hourly rate?”
I nod. “Done.”
I glance over at Elizabeth, aware that every passing second makes me later for the important call I’m supposed to be on right now. “Elizabeth, please set it up and draw up paperwork that reflects Gwen’s new responsibilities until further notice.”
“Wait, this is just temporary. Until you find a replacement, right?” Gwen asks.
I barely hear her. I don’t have time for this. “And, Elizabeth, please post a job posting for the exec assistant position on all the usual recruitment sites. Bump the annual salary up by ten thousand. I want my next assistant to last longer than six months.”
Gwen opens her mouth, but I don’t have time to listen to her thank me—which must be what she’s about to do.
I did just increase her hourly wage by three-fold, after all.
“You can thank me another time,” I say over my shoulder as I walk away. Then, I turn. “Oh, and one more thing. Gwen—get rid of the flowers. All of them.”
At the elevators, I take a deep breath.
Business is like boxing. One needs to be good at both avoiding hits and throwing punches. I’ve played enough defense for the morning, and now it’s time to make some offensive moves.
First, I’ll jump in on the call with my pro-athlete client.
