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“Where’s my new assistant?”
River shrugs. “Bathroom, maybe? Mr. Tate, this is Tandy Evenson.”
Tandy, River, and I enter the sitting room, and I sit in my wingback chair. River takes the other one next to me, and Tandy sits across from us on the sofa. We start in on the interview, and that’s when I notice that Elianna has returned to the office. As she passes the slightly open door, she raises her gaze to meet mine, and her eyes widen as her focus shifts to Tandy. For one second, her mouth drops open into an “O,” her tongue lolls to the side, and her eyes go cross-eyed. I can’t stop the laugh that escapes me.
She’s pulling juvenile faces? I guess I’d expect that from a sibling of Ethan’s—he has a subdued goofy side—but right here, right now? She’s supposed to be proving to me that she can work hard, not pull weird faces.
The interview is short and to the point. For the next half hour, I interview the other two candidates, both men older than me.
When they leave, I pull up the three of them on LinkedIn, where I find Elianna’s profile still up from earlier. According to her account, she worked as an assistant for some mid-list theater director in L.A. She’s had a lot of jobs in Southern California, including as an assistant for an art gallery owner. And she’s had a couple of positions writing grants.
I force out a sigh. Might as well make a good-faith effort, even if her experience isn’t what I would have picked.
I can’t alienate the one friend I have.
I have to give this a try.
Except, I remind myself, she does have experience in working with non-profits, something that Ethan mentioned. He knows as well as I do that to make the Deca Arete list, I have to have a very precise amount of profit going to various categories of charitable organizations, something I need to dial down and perfect soon.
“So? Who were those people?” Elianna says it lightly, but she watches me carefully.
“Candidates for a position in the finance department.”
“Oh, thank goodness.” She drops her head back and laughs, and it sounds like someone ran their fingers lightly over piano keys high above middle C. “I thought you were interviewing people to replace me.”
I snort. “No.”
“So, who will it be for the finance position?” Elianna asks. “Burgundy Tresses, the Father Figure, or Snakeskin Belt?” She stands and walks towards me. She hands me the iPad. “I got it done, by the way. Consider all your social media accounts optimized.”
I hadn’t even noticed the last guy had a snakeskin belt, but I have to bite back a smile. I don’t want to smile. It’s not like me. “It’s hard to say, since I’ve just hired Eighties Fashion Queen Who Once Cried While Getting a Selfie Taken with Matthew Perry.”
She clucks her tongue and flips her hair back behind her shoulder. “I’m gonna kill my brother. I can’t believe he told you about that. Besides . . .” She slides a hand down her side, and I get tripped up for a second at the way that motion accentuates her curves. “All this goodness? This is nineties style at its finest, not eighties.”
There is goodness where she’s pointing, but it’s not her clothes. “Well, whatever it is, I’m going to need you to dress a little more professionally when we bring people in from out of town, okay?”
A frown forms on Elianna’s dark-lipsticked mouth. “This is tasteful. I don’t see why anyone would have a problem with it, Sebastian.” Her chin rises, and there’s a fire in her countenance.
“Just, something more subdued? When we have people coming?” I ask.
“I’ll try.” She bats a hand, her attention already shifting towards the next thing. “What’s up now?”
“I was without an assistant for weeks and haven’t had time to figure out what’s up from down. But now that you’re here, we’ll get back on track, right?” I don’t mean to make it sound threatening, I really don’t.
I wish I had Elianna’s enthusiasm, that I could talk about things with a positive spin. It’s just that I’m so used to my default.
And my default is telling me I’m in for an unpredictable ride.
Chapter 5
Elianna
“Do you think you can find our Accounts and Credits department? I need some signatures from them.” Sebastian asks, handing me a manilla folder. “Their office is on the main floor back past the gym.” He tosses me a glance before slinging himself into his office chair and awakening his computer screen.
“I’m sure I can.” I hate it when people talk to me while also looking at their screens. As CEO and founder of this company, it’s bad form for him to do that, even if it’s just little ol’ me, the newest rung on the totem pole.
He doesn’t say anything and I’d love to let him know how I feel about that. Like, could he please look me in the eye when he’s asking me to do something? But it dies in my mouth and the only thing that comes out is a “Mm hm.”
I spin on my heel to leave the room. I take a glance back at him and he doesn’t so much as acknowledge me—staring instead at his multiple computer screens. Which is fine. I don’t need his acknowledgement or a “You go, girl! You go find Credits and Accounts!”
