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But… I glance at the clock. I’ll be late without this. And it’s only my first day. If I’m late, there’s no way I won’t be fired. And if I’m fired, there’s no way I’ll ever be promoted. And if I’m not promoted, I’ll never become a partner. And if I can’t become a partner, I’ll never be a supreme court justice. So, it’s not like I have a choice, right?
“Thank you,” I land on. “Yes, please.”
“Follow me,” says David as he leads me out. I consider telling him I’m fine and that he can ignore me, but then we take a second turn, and I realize his house isn’t just a rich guy big, it’s ginormous.
I’d literally never find my way out of here.
Once again, I wonder what the hell drunk me was thinking. This is What Not To Do 101. The fact that David doesn’t seem that interested in killing me is a miracle.
On the way, we find my shoes, my coat, and my purse. I collect them all quickly, like if I move fast enough, he won’t notice.
When we get to the front door—and did that really take five whole minutes? It feels like it took five whole minutes—he lingers.
Panic fills me. Do I say thank you? Do we kiss? Do I shake his hand?
My uncertainty must be clear on my face because David just smiles ruefully, running his fingers through his hair, and then tugs open the door. There’s a man dressed in all black, a slick mock neck shirt and dress pants, leaning against a black car door.
He looks up when the door opens, and his eyes widen just a bit. “S-sir.”
Hmm. Maybe this isn’t so usual for his boss, after all.
“Damon,” David says. “Take Miss… Laura—” he stops, glancing down at me, almost as if embarrassed. Okay, so we never got to last names. I don’t blame him. I didn’t remember his first. “Home, please, and then wait for her so you can take her to her place of work.”
“Yes, sir. Right this way, Miss Laura.” Damon opens the car door.
I slink towards the door quickly. My dress feels even shorter in the sunlight. I hesitate, not sure if I should say anything. I end up just lifting my hand quickly in a sort of wave before diving into the car.
“Should I order another driver for you today, sir?” Damon closes the door, shutting me inside.
“No, thank you. I’ll do it.”
Two cars. Two sirs. This mansion…
Mafia, for sure, right? That’s what it would be like in one of the movies I pretend not to watch with my best friend Alice. Either that or a killer job. I look at him through the tinted window.
Damon says something else, too quiet for me to hear, and I focus instead on searching my small bag. My keys are there, which is a great start. My phone, too, though it’s dead. My I.D. is missing, and the cash I was carrying, but I think it’s more likely I drunkenly spent it than the rich man stole from me. And, hell, if he did, it certainly wasn’t enough to cover the cost of a taxi back to my place anyway.
When we pull up to my apartment complex, I don’t have the time to be embarrassed that it’s smaller than my driver’s boss’ entryway. I say a quick thank you and dart upstairs. I would give anything to shower, but there’s just no time.
Instead, I wash my face and painstakingly do my skincare while getting dressed in between steps. I manage to get my hair in a sleek braid and get my body into a suit that—thankfully—I had ironed yesterday. Deodorant, perfume, clean teeth, and some professional-looking clogs later, I grab my pre-packed work bag and clamber downstairs.
I don’t realize till we’re halfway downtown that I left my sparkly clutch, with my phone, at my house. But whatever. I have my keys, I have my laptop, and I have clean clothes. That’s just going to have to be good enough.
“Are you sure this is the right address?” Damon asks again. He’s asked three times since I rattled it off to him earlier, and I’m starting to get offended.
“I’m not that young, you know,” I snap. Damon opens his mouth and then thinks better of it, nodding. I grin, feeling a bit triumphant. He pulls up in front of the building. Thank God there was a spot.
“Thanks, Damon,” I say. He was a bit rude for thinking I couldn’t work at a law firm, but I appreciate his quick driving.
Glancing at the car’s clock before I slide out, I see I have exactly two minutes until I’m late.
I can do this,I think.
Then I get to reception, where I have to check in because I don’t yet have my badge, and they ask for my I.D.
Freezing, I consider what lie I can tell that makes me look professional.
This morningsucks! This morning is a nightmare. This morning is?—
