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“Okay, fine. It’s probably best I don’t draw attention to myself by wearing the newest collections straight off of Milan’s runways anyways. So, tell me, where can I get a bunch of T-shirts and jeans and stuff that will help me fit in?”
“I’m sure there’s a Gap around here in the city somewhere?”
“Gap?” Never heard of it.
“Yeah, it’ll have everything you need there. Just don’t look at the labels. You won’t find your luxury name brands at the Gap,” she says.
“I don’t need that. I just need to not stink or borrow Jason’s T-shirts. Or buy anything in Duane Reade ever again.”
We both laugh.
“I’m nervous,” she says.
“It’ll be fine. If at any time someone gets suspicious, just do the name drop,” I suggest.
“The name drop?” she asks.
“Lee Yoo-Jin.Ourname,” I say, pointing between the two of us. “It’s the easiest way to confirm we’re who we’re supposed to be. Or have a foolproof excuse for why we’renotwho we’re supposed to be.”
“Okay then. Sounds like Operation Name Drop has begun,” she says.
This is gonna be an experience. And one I can’t wait to live out.
Operation Name Drop starts now.
9
jessica
“Tell me this is the most asinine idea of all time,” I say into the phone. I called Ella in one of the hundred moments of panic I had after leaving Elijah last night and told her the entire plan.
Then I called her again this morning from my desk, still way too early back in California, but I need to be talked off the ledge. I steal glances left and right to make sure no one is around, speaking only in a frantic whisper. But I guess on the scale of misdemeanors, identity fraud far outweighs making a personal call during work hours.
“You are correct. Everything you’ve just told me is completely bonkers,” she says sleepily.
I don’t know if I’m relieved or disappointed that she agrees.
“...and it’s absolutely brilliant,” she finishes.
“Ella, I need you to be my voice of reason,” I plead.
“You are a loud enough voice of reason for yourself. I’m your voice of what could be. I’m the one who is here to say this is an opportunity you might not have otherwise gotten, and it’s been served to you on a silver platter by a very rich and hopefully very hot boy, though that’s yet to be confirmed because you will not answer any of my questions about this guy. Take it and run with it, Jessica. Now, call me back at a decent hour and be ready with some salacious details about said rich boy to make penance for calling me this early.”
“Wait—” I say into the phone, but the other end is silent and cold.
Well, I guess that’s enough convincing to get me at least through to the afternoon.
I put my phone down and open up the calendar app on my laptop. I should schedule a standing meeting with Elijah for us to share intel about our jobs.
“Jessica, can you come in here please.”
I look up, but no one’s waiting for my answer. All I see is the back of a short man in a slightly rumpled suit walking past my office. I get up from my desk and quickly follow who I think is Mr. Song, introduced to me yesterday as the Communications Director, into the conference room. There are a lot of very important and stern-faced people sitting around the table and my heart starts to race. They know. They found out about me and Elijah and any moment now the police are going to come in and take me downtown or wherever they take criminals.
“We need a notetaker for the meeting,” Mr. Song says, passing me a pad and pen.
Oh, okay, fine. I mean, note-taking seems a little below an executive trainee, and doing it on a laptop would make more sense.
I don’t want to be seen as a problem. But I also don’t want to be a doormat or a yes person, agreeing to everything. The only way to really set myself apart is to make sure they notice me for my work ethic but also my confidence and my leadership qualities. Still, it’s only the second day. Maybe not the time, just yet, to pull the “it’s not my job” card and ask someone else to take notes.
