“Sound advice.”
I will have to remember that. Imagine catching something from a coffee cup.
“Any tips?” I ask, hoping he will give me an insight into how to keep my job.
He frowns as he thinks. “Just don’t sleep with any of the artists. Instant dismissal.”
“Oh.”
“And that goes for coworkers, too. We aren’t allowed to date each other.”
My eyebrows rise by themselves.
He shakes his head. “The rule goes that if you want to start a relationship, one of you has to leave.”
I nod.
“But the head of marketing had a thing going with a girl downstairs for a while, so I don’t know if the rule applies to everyone or just us plebs.” He rolls his eyes in annoyance.
I frown. Head of marketing is Mark. Oh, great. Don’t tell me he’s screwing the receptionist from downstairs. I feel my territorial instincts kick in. I want to ask who the girl is but I know it will look suspicious. Damn it.
“What’s the management like?” I ask as I fake a smile.
“They’re all assholes. Stay away from the pricks if you can.” He winks.
* * *
Its 10.30am and I have been introduced to more people than I will ever remember. I have started filing files away, the new girl job, obviously. Everyone seems nice and the office is very swanky. I think I am going to like it here to be honest, although it is too early to tell. Maureen from the art department, who has been showing me around, comes over. “Emerson, there’s a meeting down on level two this morning. Can you go down and attend for our team, please?”
I frown at her. Holy shit, she can’t be serious? I have no idea what I’m doing. “W-what do I have to do?” I stammer.
She shakes her head dismissively. “Just go and listen. They are talking about stuff we don’t need to know, anyway. It’s the marketing plan for the next month. Mark is running it.”
Oh. He’s here. I haven’t seen him this morning.
“Okay.” I bounce out of my seat and grab my notepad and pencil. This is one mission I am looking forward to, knowing it will get me out of filing this crap away. I grab my phone, notepad, and pencil then head to the lift. My phone rings as I wait.
“Hello.”
“Yes, hello, dear. Is that Emerson?”
I frown, knowing this is a familiar voice but I can’t quite place it. “Yes, this is Emerson.”
“It’s Beverly.”
Who? I don’t know a Beverly.
“From Heirloom? I just thought you should know that there has been something bought in that relates to your ring.”
Oh shit. It’s the antique lady. “B-beverly,” I stammer, feeling bad that I didn’t recognize her. I instinctively hold out my hand and look at my beautiful ring.
“I thought I had better call you as I feel it should stay with the ring.”
I frown, what is she talking about? “I’m sorry? You’ve lost me. What is it exactly?”
“It’s a wooden box with the same stampings on as your ring.” “A wooden box?” I repeat. What the hell am I going to do with a wooden box?
“Yes, dear. It’s filled with letters. I only read three of them, but there is a reference to your ring.”
I bite my bottom lip to stifle my smile. That’s so cool. “How much is it?”
She hesitates. “Fifty pound.” Hell, this sweet old lady is a pawn shark. “Umm…” I hesitate. Honestly, what am I going to do with a box of old letters?
“Thirty pound.” She tries to barter down with me. Crap, I can’t refuse that.
“Okay, I will be in after work today to pick it up. What time do you close?”
“I will be here until seven.” “Great. See you about five thirty.”
“Bye, dear.”
I smile as I hang up. That sweet old lady has a sharp mind and is totally ripping me off. I hope I’m like that at ninety something. I head down to my marketing meeting, looking forward to seeing Mark in action. The lift opens and I am on a large floor. I can’t see any people anywhere. Where do I go? My eyes search the space and I walk toward the back of the room, past all of the desks. Where the hell is this meeting? I really do wish some bastard had given me the tour of all of the levels this morning. Where are they?
A lady comes out of a door carrying a plate of pastries and cakes, and a man is behind her pushing a coffee and tea making trolley. “Oh, hello. Do you know where the marketing meeting is this morning?”
She points. “Yes, it’s through the double doors, down the hall.”
“Thank you.” I smile as my eyes drift to where she is pointing, and I head in that direction. I glance down at my outfit. Jeez, I need to ace it up. First impressions are damn important. My stomach drops as I get to the double doors and I slowly open them.
Around thirty people are sitting listening to Mark talk and write on a whiteboard at the front of the room.
He stops, smiles, and the group collectively turn to see who has arrived late.
“Um, hello. I’m sorry I’m late,” I murmur.