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“Oh sorry, yes, of course.”
I push the button and we ascend quickly to the 40th. It’s annoying how quickly this elevator reaches its destination. The elevator door opens to reveal the plushest office floor I have ever seen in my life. One whole side of the floor from one corner to the other is occupied by the C.E. O’s office, and his Admin Assistant. The Admin Assistant’s office is its own place of luxury with black leather couches and rugs thrown on a gleaming marble floor. The back of her desk is a large window that gives her a unique view of NYC. There is. Center table that holds something familiar. The albino alligator leather handbag! At first glance, this looks like the most expensive handbag in the world, the bag with which women were lining up to get their selfies taken.
“Do you like it?” Says the Admin behind the large desk. Her gray hair is pulled back in a tight bun, she wears a black dress that says no nonsense. Her eyes peek over thick-framed glasses darting between me and Jake.
“Hi Priscilla, this is Brooke Banner, today is her first day.” Jake is trying to sound confident, but I can sense he is a bit nervous. We are after all in the highest office of this business empire.
“I know who she is Jake,” she says, smiling at us. “It’s my job to know. Thank you, Jake, for bringing her to the office.”
“Oh, you mean, I should yeah, I’ll let Brooke take it from here.” He makes a quick exit.
“So, what do you think of this handbag? Most would consider it to be the most expensive handbag in the world?”
I walk around the table, observing the handbag closely. II love luxury handbags. But something disturbs me about this bag. I press my lower lip with my thumb, a habit that helps me tune out the world and just think.
The weight of the bag.
“May I pick it up?” I ask.
“Please do.”
“I pick up the bag, which is heavy, which should be a good sign, but the weight is not coming from the material itself. I can see Pricilla observing me. I bring the bag close to my nose and inhale deeply. I wait for that distinct signature peppery smell of leather, but that kick is missing.
“May I?” I ask her, placing my hand at the opening of the bag.
“Please go ahead,” says Pricilla, now fully attentive to my every move. She is fiddling with a pen as if making mental notes.
I open the bag to view the label which is well aligned, and then run my hand on the stitching. I use my nails to measure the distance of the stitching from the edge of the bag. As I slide my finger, I notice that some parts of the stitching are slightly more distant from the edge. It’s not a straight line. I have enough information.
I drop the bag on the glass table, and it lands with a thud.
“This is a good fake.”
Priscilla cannot contain her serious composure. “Are you sure Brooke?”
“Leather smell is missing, the weight of leather has been added artificially, the label ID number contains the letter ‘X’, and the stitching is uneven. This will disfigure easily under a hot climate.”
She takes off her glasses and nods at me. Her smile contains a hint of admiration, something I feel she does not hand out so frequently.
“Please go in. Mr. Ethan will see you now.”
I swallow my fear, though my fingers are tingling with nervousness. I am literally forcing my feet to move forward, as if wading through knee-high water. I probably look like a robot in slow motion. Pushing the connecting door open, I step into his office.
Brightness to the point that I have to squint. The whole wall behind his desk is a wall of glass allowing the sun to splash the massive room in light. I cover my eyes, instinctively, my hands forming a brim of a hat.
I see a blur of his unmistakably tall, lanky figure standing in front of a humongous mahogany desk. He has clearly not recognized me yet.
“A little too bright in here, isn’t it Miss …”
I lower my hand from my face which is enveloped in the bright afternoon light of the sun. “I am Brooke Banner.”
“Miss Banner,” he says slowly.
Okay now he knows. Or did he know from before? It does not matter. It’s out there now.
“Mr. Knight,” I say, “it’s good of you to meet me on my first day.”
“Yes, of course, our second meeting,” he says recalling the most carefree moment in a voice that is so serious, so official. The words have meaning but are empty of all feelings. Like a robot counting the times we have met, but miraculously free of emotions.
