“You make it sound glamorous and interesting. I hate to say it, but I’ve never thought of clothes like that.”
“Most people don’t. Certain aspects of it have been so commercialized that it has become more about the money than the design.” She looked sheepish for a moment. “I’ll admit that having access to a billionaire’s pocketbook does make it easier to afford some of the more unique pieces, but today, part of getting these clothes for you is getting the brand recognition. We want people to associate you with the wealth of that designer. So, in this instance, the money is actually part of the design.”
“Sounds like I’m being encouraged to get the expensive thing then, I guess. That’s a first for me!” I laughed and smoothed the fabric across my hips. It hung nicely across my hips, but was baggy where it was obviously meant to fit someone with a much bigger bust.
“You obviously know a lot about all this. How did you end up a personal assistant? Is fashion a prerequisite course at personal assistant school?” I asked as I opened the door and stepped out. Rachel looked me up and down, murmuring to herself before answering my question.
“I like it, but it will need some tailoring,” Rachel said absentmindedly as she pulled the fabric tight in the back and I could practically hear her smile as she thought about how it would look. She nodded to herself and then raised her eyes to mine. “I majored in fashion and design in college. One of my senior designs caught the eye of Mrs. Saunders. To make a long story short, I ended up entwining myself with the Saunders family. When Jack needed a personal assistant, he hired me. Now try this one,” she said handing me a bright red shirt.
I took the brightly colored shirt and headed back to the dressing room. “So, do you still design clothes then?”
“Sometimes. I’ve made a couple of exclusive garments for the Saunders family, but Mr. Saunders keeps me too busy to devote much time to it,” she answered. A hint of sadness crept into her voice at the end. I wondered how much she missed it and if she felt it was worth it. She continued, as if reading my mind. “I miss it, but I like my job. This though, this is fun. Mr. Saunders lets me control his wardrobe, but the female stuff is so much more fun.”
I stepped out of the dressing room again. I hadn’t had this much fun trying on clothes since I was a kid in my mom’s closet. I felt pretty in these clothes, and I knew Rachel was enjoying dressing me. I opened the door and Rachel made a face.
“Not that one. The color and cut aren’t going to work.”
“I didn’t think it looked too bad,” I said confused. I had liked the shirt in the mirror.
“It doesn’t look bad Emma, but it doesn’t look amazing. I want you to look amazing. See how it bunches in the shoulders? And it brings out too much red in your face. If it were a little darker and cut differently it would work, but not like this,” she said as she pointed out the bunching on my shoulders. I hadn’t even noticed until she showed me. She handed me another shirt and waited for me to change. “See? This one works.”
I looked in the mirror as she pointed out how the shoulders now lay flat, and the slight difference in red against my skin. The new shirt really did look better.
“Thank you,” I said, meeting her eyes in the mirror. She grinned.
“You are most welcome. How do you feel about sweaters?”
“They should be warm.” I grinned at her in the mirror. She laughed.
“I think we’ll get along fine. I have some ideas I want to try,” Rachel said, her eyes going distant as she thought of the possibilities of how she could dress me.
Chapter 13
Rachel had me try on what felt like every piece of clothing in the store. I didn’t mind though. With her artistic eye, it was actually fun to try things on. She made sure to pick things that were always in my size, or at least close enough that I didn’t get the frustration I usually did trying on clothes. She picked out things I would never have thought to wear on my own, but I was constantly amazed at how good they looked in the mirror.
I tried not to look at the price tags. A single shirt cost a month’s salary and some of the dresses made me feel woozy thinking about how many times I could pay rent with a single garment.
Rachel made sure I had everything I could possibly need. We spent the next three days perfecting my look, getting measured for custom clothing, and picking up more clothes than would fit in my closet at home. I even got real French lingerie.
The only thing I insisted on was keeping my current pajamas. Rachel tried her best to convince me that a new pair of embroidered satin pajamas would be far preferable to my very comfy scrub pants and t-shirt.
“But I like my current pajamas! I don’t want new ones. Besides, anyone who sees me in my pajamas shouldn’t be worrying about whether or not I look like I belong with a billionaire,” I told her.
“What about Mr. Saunders?” She asked, raising her eyebrows and clearly expecting me to relent.
“Who says I will be wearing pajamas with Mr. Saunders?”
She let me keep my scrub pants and t-shirt.
I stepped out into the cold, March, New York air and took a deep breath. It smelled different here, the scents of cars, food, and cement all different than the city smells from Des Moines. I still couldn’t get over how big the city was and I had a feeling I never would. I pulled up the collar of my new jacket against the wind and headed towards the waiting car.
Dean smiled and opened the door for me as I stepped into the warm car. He ran around to the passenger seat and slid inside, moving stealthily like a hunting cat. As soon as his door shut, the driver pulled out onto the busy street and merged with a sea of yellow cabs.
“Off to visit Mr. Saunders today?” Dean asked, turning in his seat to look at me. I could feel the blush creeping onto my cheeks as I nodded.
“I haven’t seen him since I arrived. Rachel says he has been working nonstop at the office, so I thought I would surprise him.”
Dean’s face clouded for a moment. His mouth made a twist, like he was going to tell me bad news. “So, his secretary doesn’t know you are coming? This may not be the best idea Emma.”
Indignation flared up in my stomach. His secretary? His secretary was the reason I was in this mess in the first place. I was away from my home, my friends, and my family because a secretary released a picture. I was here because Jack wanted me here and no secretary was going to stop me. I bit down a flippant remark and smiled instead.
“I want to see Jack. He’s the reason I’m here and it feels weird sleeping at his house and eating his food, but never seeing him.”
Dean frowned, but nodded and turned back in his seat. He wore the ‘she’s got to make her own mistakes’ expression that my dad wore whenever I was about to do something stupid. I sighed, suddenly feeling a little less confident. I was going to see Jack today, even if it meant breaking the rules.
The rest of the drive was uneventful, the city flying past in shades of gray and glass. The DS Oil and Gas building quickly loomed up in front of us, a tower lost in a sea of murky sky. Dean opened the door and I stepped out, the air colder than I remembered. I hurried though the big glass doors and into the yellow warmth of the lobby.
Business suits swam around me like a school of giant black and gray fish as I worked my way towards a security desk. I stepped up to the desk and a man in an imposing uniform glared down at me. I was about to speak when Dean stepped up. The security guard broke out in a smile, completely changing his features from scary to pleasant.
“Dean! How’s it going?” The big guard greeted Dean. Dean leaned up against the counter, his frame shielding me from the people entering and exiting the elevators.
“Doing good. I want to introduce you to Emma LaRue. She is to have full access to Jack Saunders’ floor.”
The big man smiled at me, suddenly friendly. “Nice to meet you Ms. LaRue. Or will it be Mrs. Saunders?”
“Emma is fine,” I said. I wasn’t sure myself.
“Of course Ms. Emma. Let me get you a badge. I believe Ms. Weber had one made for you already.” The man ducked under the desk and unlocked a cabinet. He reappeared with an official looking badge with my picture smiling on the front. “This should get you onto his floor. The rest is up to you and his new secretary. Dean, you’ll show her the way it works, won’t you?”
“Of course. Thanks Jim,” Dean said. The big guard waved and replaced his friendly smile with the threatening frown as Dean guided me towards green elevators. I stayed close to him, not wanting to lose my guide. We stepped onto a green elevator with several other people and Dean hit the highest button, 27. I was sure that Jack’s office was higher than that, but I didn’t say anything.
We stepped out at our stop and Dean led me around a corner to another elevator. This one was golden instead of green.
“If you come in through the front door, this is the path you should take. The main elevators don’t go up to the higher floors for security reasons.” He hit the button for the gold doors and we stepped inside. “Scan your card against the button there and then press the 45 button. If you don’t scan your card, the elevator won’t move and security will be called.”
I held the card up to the reader and a green light blinked. I hit 45 and the elevator whizzed upward. It took only a couple of seconds for the doors to open into the lobby I recognized from my first night. It was more brightly lit than in the evening, and there was a hum of energy. A man and a woman in expensive suits hurried past toward the offices, deep in discussion. An older woman sat at the big desk, speaking confidently into her headset.
Dean caught my arm. “This elevator goes down to the garage. If you come in through the garage, you can take this without having to get off as you would if you use the main elevators. I will be over there when you’re ready to leave.” He pointed to some comfortable looking leather chairs in the lobby by the secretary’s desk. I swallowed hard, my mouth dry. Now that I was actually up here, my courage had disappeared.
I took a steadying breath and headed towards the big desk guarding Jack’s office. The woman looked up at me as I approached and smiled kindly.
“You must be Emma. I’m Jeanette. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you,” she greeted me warmly. I smiled at her. She was probably in her early sixties, but despite the gray of her hair, she showed no signs of slowing down.
“Hi, it’s nice to meet you too. I would like to see Jack please,” I said politely.
“I’m afraid he’s in a meeting right now. I would be happy to let him know you stopped by though.”
“I can wait. I’d really like to see him.” I didn’t come all the way to his office to be stopped at the threshold by a secretary. Besides, how long could a meeting take?
Jeanette sighed. “The meeting is scheduled for another three hours. He’s meeting with investors. If you would like, I can schedule you in to see him tomorrow.”
“What if I just peeked my head in the door?” Frustration was starting to build. I gave serious thought to barging past the secretary and opening his office door, but knew I was too chicken to actually do it.