STEP BY STEP (6 page)

“Let’s start with the social media
aspect,” she said. “I’d like to start up a Facebook page and a Twitter account.
We can link them together so we can send our messages from one and they’ll
automatically go to the other, which will cut back on upkeep drastically.
Second, we’ll get some banners and branded pieces to flood the pages with
picture-wise. People always click on pictures, and your banners and headers
will be the first thing they see. They need to be attention-grabbing, and I
have some ideas for fonts…”

I tuned out the rest of it. I didn’t need
to hear it. She had it all down pat. She knew exactly what she was doing, and
she was presenting like the star employee I knew she could be.

I sat back and crossed my fingers across
my lips as I listened to her cute little southern drawl and watched as her eyes
lit up.

MIRABELLE

“So that’s what I have for you,” I said
as I leaned into the speakerphone on Mr.
Woodfield’s
desk.

“Well,” Brenda said on the other end. “I
think Ross and Steve and I have some talking to do, but I will go ahead and say
that I’m very impressed, Ms. Baker. Preston, we’ll be in touch.”

Preston’s twitchy fingers pressed the
button and ended the call, and his eyes were wild with excitement. My heart
raced as I waited for his feedback. Blowing him away would’ve meant worlds more
to me than impressing the Johnston account.

He stood up and walked around his desk,
stopping in front of me and perching himself on the edge.

“That was…” he began as he searched for
the right words. “Extraordinary.”

A smile burst across my face. There was
no hiding it. “Thank you.”

“For a beginner like you, that was some
intermediate work,” he said. “I’m very impressed, Mirabelle.”

The way my name slipped off his tongue,
like silk, made my heart race. For a split second, my mind wandered to a
naughty place. It wasn’t intentional. It just happened. I knew Preston didn’t
doll out compliments very often, and that only made me desire to please him in
every which way I could.

Snap
out of it, Mirabelle!

“That said,” he continued, his arms now
crossed over his chest. “I think you can do better. Yes. In fact, do better.
Next time we reconvene, I want you to bring a little more to the table.”

“More?” My eyes scrunched in confusion.
“Can you please elaborate?”

He sighed, seemingly annoyed with me, and
said, “You’re giving me ninety-five percent, Mirabelle. I want two hundred
percent.”

That cloud I had been floating on seconds
earlier suddenly evaporated and dropped me from the sky. How could he say I was
extraordinary one minute and then tell me I need to do better the next? My lip
trembled, but I fought it back. I didn’t want him to see me shaken. I didn’t
want to be lumped in a category with all other interns who couldn’t handle him.

I’d slaved for hours over that project.
For days on end, it was all I thought about. I went to bed thinking about it. I
woke up thinking about it. I poured every ounce of creativity and know-how into
it. I didn’t know how I could possibly do any better than I’d already done.

“With all due respect, Preston,” I said
as I stood up. I opened my mouth to finish my sentence, but the look on his
face stopped me. The way his eye lit up when he was so proud of me seconds ago
was incomparable. I wanted to see that look in his eyes again, and I decided
then and there to do whatever it took.

“Yes?” he asked, his eyebrows
raised
.

“Never mind,” I said. I stood up to
leave, grabbing my notebook from his desk, and strutted out of his office.

“Close the door behind you,” he called
out.

***

“Monica?” I said as I peered into her
doorway. I had to get off the sixth floor. I needed a change of scenery, and I
needed to talk to someone other than Preston and Ruthie.

“Oh, hey, there stranger,” she said
distractedly. She looked up at me quickly then returned her stare to her
computer screen as she feverishly typed an email. “How’s life on the top
treating you these days?”

I laughed. “It’s…alright.”

“Does Mr.
Woodfield
know you’ve unshackled yourself from your desk?” she asked playfully. She sent
her email and turned her chair towards me, motioning for me to have a seat
across from her. Though I’d only known her a day or so, she was the closest
thing I had to a friend in that place.

“Who knows,” I said with an eye roll.
“That’s sort of why I wanted to come talk to you. I was hoping you could give
me a little insight on him.”

Monica leaned back in her chair, a
mischievous grin forming across her red lips. She tucked a strand of blonde
hair behind her ear, revealing a hidden streak of gray in the process.

“He’s so hard to read,” I sighed. “I want
to make him happy. I want to show him that I’m not an idiot intern, but it’s
like nothing I ever do is good enough for him. I worked my ass off for the
Johnston account, and he seemed pleased.
Very pleased.
Then he told me I could do better.”

Monica laughed as if I was some naïve
little girl. “Oh, sweetie. Sweetie, sweetie, sweetie.”

“What?”

“If you could figure out what makes Mr.
Woodfield
tick, you’d have the whole world eating out of
the palm of your hand,” she said. “No one can figure that man out. Wait, I take
it back, there was one woman who did.”

“Who’s that?”

“Sapphire Hart,” Monica said as she
stared off towards the wall behind me. For a second she appeared lost in
thought.

“I think I’m in her old office,” I said.

“Right next to Mr.
Woodfield
?”
she replied. “That’d be it.”

“What happened to Sapphire? Why’d she
leave?” I asked. I leaned forward, waiting to hear all about it.

“She got too close,” Monica said, her
lips pursed in sympathy. “She had it all. Moved up the ladder quickly. Great
title. Awesome bonuses. She was on top of the world. And then she got too close
to him. He made life a living hell for her and she left. At least that’s the
rumor. They were dating and things went sour. They couldn’t work together after
that.”

“Just like that?” I asked. I leaned back
in my seat. “There had to be more to it than that.”

Monica shook her head as she clicked the
shiny silver pen in her hand. “Nah. That’s pretty much it. Don’t ever blur
those boundaries, Mirabelle.”

“Blur what boundaries?”

“The ones between professional life and
personal life,” she said. “I’ve seen entire careers destroyed because of that.”

“Oh,” I said with a laugh. “You don’t
have to worry about that with me. I’m not like that. I’m here for one thing and
one thing only.”

Monica smiled the sort of bittersweet,
apologetic smile my mother would’ve given me if she
was
there. “That’s exactly what Sapphire said too. You remind me so much of her.”

PRESTON

“Working late again, Mirabelle?” I stood
in her doorway as the late afternoon sun illuminated the space around her. She
glanced up at
me, fatigued eyes and all,
and nodded.
Perhaps I’d been too hard on her that morning, but I didn’t care. It was for
the best. I was the artist and she was my medium. I was going to make her into
something great, and someday she’d look back and remember the man who made her all
of her dreams possible.

I stepped away and headed towards the
lounge, coming back with two mugs of steaming, fresh coffee. Ruthie always knew
to put on a fresh pot before she left for the day. While everyone else rushed
to get out of the office by five, I was just beginning my second leg of work
for the day.

“Oh,” Mirabelle said as I reentered her
office and sat a mug in front of her. “Thank you.”

She wrapped her soft palms around the
warm mug and lifted it to her full, pillowed lips for a sip. I knew I’d been an
ass to her earlier that day. The least I could do was bring her a little
something to drink since she was staying late.

Her desk was covered in notes; some
written in red, some in blue, some in green. Some notes were hi-
lited
in yellow and some in pink. Post-Its stuck all over
her computer screen. The garbage can next to her desk was filled with crumpled
papers, probably ideas she deemed not good enough to present to me.

No woman since Sapphire Hart had ever
worked so hard to please me before, and quite frankly, it turned me on. My mind
wandered as I could only imagine how desperate she’d be to please me behind
closed doors. She still looked at me like a little girl with a crush, though I
doubt she even realized it.

I turned and headed back to my office and
shut the door. Not since Sapphire, had I had to share the office with anyone
after hours. I checked my email, personal and work, and checked my stocks for
the day. My portfolio had grown four percent from the day before.

An email popped down in the corner of my
screen. It was from Mirabelle.

Preston,

I
didn’t want to bother you since you’re technically off the clock and your door
is shut, but I have some questions for you when you get a chance.

Mirabelle

My fingers tapped the keyboard as I fired
back a response.

Mirabelle,

I’m
never “off the clock”. You forget that I own the place? If you need something,
come in my office. You’ve never hesitated to barge in here before.

Mr.
Woodfield

I hovered over the send button for a few
second, half-debating whether or not I’d been too harsh, before sending it. I
sat back in my seat and waited for her to enter, and within seconds, the door
slowly swung open.

“Yes, Mirabelle,” I said, annoyed that
she was being so apprehensive around me. Where was the take-charge girl I’d
caught a glimpse of that morning? The one who was so sure of herself? The one
who owned her intelligence? Oh, yeah, I’d destroyed her with one sentence.

She stepped towards my desk, her tan
slacks hugging every curve of her thighs, and stopped just short of one of the
leather chairs.

“I’ve been doing some thinking,” she
said. She wouldn’t look at me. “I’ve been racking my brain all day. I talked to
some other employees here. I talked to a couple interns.”

“You consulted with other interns?” I
balked.

“I really feel that the marketing plan I
presented this morning, the one I’ve been working on all week, is the best
one,” she said. Her gaze turned up to meet mine as I stood from my desk. She
had a lot of nerve telling her boss she wasn’t going to do what he’d asked. “Do
you mind if we just wait to hear back from them before I try to revamp this
thing?”

She bit her lip, perhaps a nervous twitch
of hers since childhood, and waited for my response. Never in my five years of
owning the firm had an intern dictated to me what they would and wouldn’t do.

I studied her face as I forced her to
wait for my response. I didn’t want her thinking I was giving in too easily.
That wasn’t my style, and I rarely made exceptions. While I forced the long
pause, my eyes took in every curve and amble of her body. The way her jacket
cinched in at just the right part of her waist and the way her pants hugged her
hips and thighs were enough to make me want to throw her on the table right
then and there.