Page 10 of Reaching Gavin

Chapter Four

I’d just prowledthrough the maze of cubicles when I ran into him and a whole bunch of people I hadn’t actually met yet. Trevor raised an eyebrow in surprise, but I forced a confident smile.

“Sorry, I’m late. I forgot to ask where the meeting was. New intern. Second day,” I added by way of explanation.

No one batted an eye at my uninvited presence, although Trevor looked like he had swallowed a lemon. I chose a seat as far from his as possible. Glancing around, I realized with a sinking feeling that everyone around me had iPads or notebooks. A quick search of my purse yielded me some Post-Its and a pen. My only other options were the backs of receipts. Post-Its it was. I set my phone next to the meager preparations and hoped I didn’t look as unprofessional as I felt. Trevor had worn a suit into the office today, no doubt in attempt to emulate our young boss. I wondered if I looked similarly overdressed in my wrap dress and heels. Most of the other employees had stuck to business casual. A few were in jeans. It was going to take some getting used to the Seattle vibe. I’d thought the tendency toward casual on my college campus was just that—a college thing. The more time I spent in the city, the more I began to suspect it was a Pacific Northwest thing.

Gavin appeared after most of the chairs were taken. In a room full of his employees, most of whom were much older than he was, he stood out. But not because he seemed so much younger. He exuded an energy and confidence that had nothing to do with his three-piece suit or power tie. He walked into the room like he owned it. He did, of course, but there was no doubt that he knew that. I wasn’t sure I’d ever had that much conviction in anything. It was why the whole room fell silent as he crossed to the head of the table—and the chair right next to mine.

I had not intentionally placed myself at the right hand of the CEO. I’d just chosen a chair based on its distance from certain undesirables. Judging from the amount of side-eye I was getting, that choice had been interpreted differently. I plastered an indifferent mask on my face and turned my attention to Gavin.

“Glad to see our new interns here,” he said, his gaze lingering on me before he redirected it to the group. “I’m sure you’ve all met Cassandra and Trevor. They are the poor, unpaid workers we’ll be taking advantage of this summer. Go easy on them.”

The joke was met with easy laughter. If I’d questioned how his age affected his rapport with his colleagues, I had my answer. Other than my seating faux pas, people seemed relaxed. Happy even. I wondered what had upset him this morning when George had warned me away. I’d always imagined a big city business, especially one in real estate development, to be a bit more on edge. Stock market crashes, federal regulations, homeowners associations – they could all conspire to make these people’s lives a living hell. Still, everyone here was in good spirits, except Trevor, who was looking a little green.

“And since Becky just went on maternity leave, these interns are pretty much our entire PR department.”

I sat up a bit straighter in my seat, feeling the burden of new responsibility light upon my shoulders. It felt better than a perfect purse.

“We won’t let you down,” Trevor called from the back of the room. A few of the older workers shot each other looks. It was a bit over eager. And I was glad I hadn’t let myself jump in with a similar exclamation. I made a mental note to toe the line between head cheerleader and anarchist.

“That’s good to know, because we have a bit of a PR situation,” Gavin said, turning toward the whiteboard behind him. He pulled down a screen and clicked a handheld remote. A PowerPoint presentation began. “This is the Majestic Theater in Capitol Hill.”

The picture on the screen was of a ramshackle, worn down building that had clearly been beautiful once. The now darkened marquee was fading and drooping with years of disuse. Grass and weeds had clogged up the sidewalk and begun to grow along the walls and up toward the vacant ticket office. Still, underneath the ravages of time, I could see the life it once had. I could almost imagine the sign lit up displaying this week’s feature film. We had a similar theater in Abilene, but it had been kept up. I’d gone there almost every weekend with my parents. In high school, my friends and I had hung out there, paying for one ticket and then spending the whole day theater hopping or just waiting for the next show to start. The management hadn’t minded. It was just the way things were in a small town with not much to do. I supposed that in a big city where there was lots of opportunity to go see movies and new theaters opening all the time, it was easy to let something like this fall to disrepair. It was a crying shame.

“Gee boss,” a redhead piped up from across the table, “maybe you want to run it by us before you buy these things.”

Gavin enjoyed a laugh at his own expense while everyone else snickered. “I know, I know. I’m an old softy. But this building has an amazing history. And the city was about to tear it down. Forgive me, Agnes.”

I was a bit surprised that a twenty-something was named Agnes, but now I had the redhead’s name burned indelibly into my brain. At least, I knew one other person besides Trevor and George.

He hit a button on the remote and a new picture popped up. This time of the interior. It wasn’t any better. In fact, it might be worse. While a set of ornate, golden carvings were still intact on either side of the screen, the curtains that should have hung near them were half torn down and one was missing altogether. The screen had a giant rip through the center. Those weren’t the biggest problems though. It was obvious a few seats had disappeared over the years. I imagined they’d found their way into hipster living rooms. In their place, sleeping bags and abandoned trash littered the floor.

“It looks like we have some tenants already,” someone else said from the back of the table.

“The locks have been changed and the entrances secured. I don’t imagine we’ll have much more problems with squatters. But we did leave a number of posters for the local shelters and rehabilitation centers, for those seeking a warm, dry place to sleep.”

My heart fluttered a little at the thoughtfulness. He didn’t have to do that. It was going to be important to take care of the uninvited guests before we could move forward with any type of restoration. The corporate thing to do was to change the locks and scare them off. Gavin was worried about where those people had to go. He had a heart and movie star looks. My attraction to him ballooned. I could only hope he’d put his foot in his mouth and provide the proverbial pen to pop my burgeoning intrigue.

“Well, a new curtain is going to set you back a pretty penny and it looks like most of those chairs won’t be of any use. Do you want to keep it a theater?” Agnes, the redhead, asked, pointing to the various eyesores on the screen.

“That’s the plan. It’s also going to be our biggest line of defense with the preservation committee.”

There was a cacophony of groans. I looked around waiting for someone to explain. My eyes fell on Gavin and he rolled his eyes like we were in on a private joke. This obviously wasn’t his first rodeo, but it was mine. “We run into this a lot,” he explained. “A number of Seattle neighborhoods are experiencing rapid development and growth with all the big companies setting up shop in the city. That means that a lot of historic buildings are being repurposed or torn down.”

“Which means preservation committees,” I guessed.

Gavin nodded. “In a way, we’re on the same side.”

“Tell them that,” Agnes grumbled.

“They have a reason to be concerned. The building was scheduled for demolition, and they were fighting hard against that. It’s one of the reasons we got the building for such a good deal.”

“Because it came with a pain in the ass preservation committee?” I piped up, instantly regretting it.

There was a weary round of laughter that stopped the embarrassed blush threatening to appear. It seemed I had hit the nail on the head.

“This is nothing we haven’t dealt with before,” Gavin reminded us. “And it’s the perfect thing for our PR department to cut their teeth on.”