Page 64 of One Night in Vegas

“Good morning,” he said.

“Would you like coffee?” I asked.

“Please.”

He walked into his office and that was that. I breathed a little sigh of relief. I had been worried things were going to be awkward. Fortunately, he was acting like I had been his assistant forever and he hadn’t rocked my world less than twenty-four hours earlier.

After one missed turn, I found the breakroom. Once again, I relied on the left-behind instructions, which I was beginning to think of as the Care and Feeding of Mr. Jonathan Handcock. I ignored the donuts and reached for a bran muffin to take to him. I grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge as well. I didn’t know if the guy had kidney problems or what, but the assistant before me was pretty damn insistent he be given water every couple of hours. And no caffeine after noon. It was like taking care of a gremlin. I was kind of curious about what happened if I did get him coffee at two.

“Here you go,” I said and put the bounty on his desk.

He looked at the muffin. “Are there not any donuts today?”

“There are.”

“You don’t think I would prefer one of those?” he questioned.

“I’m sure you would,” I replied. “In fact, I know you would, which is why you’re getting a muffin.”

He looked confused. “Is this some revenge?”

“Nope. You’re not allowed to have sugar for breakfast. That reminds me, can you scoot over?” I walked around his desk and pulled open the bottom drawer. Sure enough, there were several candy bars. “I’ll be confiscating these.”

“The hell you will.”

I ignored the complaints. “I’ve updated your calendar with some meeting changes. I squeezed in the staff meeting for this afternoon. I’ll be holding all your calls until eleven so you can review the samples. I’ve forwarded a couple of emails to you that require your attention. I’ll be typing the memo for the HR meeting next week. Do you need anything else?”

“Yes.”

“What is it?” I asked sweetly.

He shoved the muffin in my hand. “I’m not eating a fucking bran muffin.”

I forced a smile. “I’ll get you a banana then.”

“You know what, I don’t want a banana. As a matter of fact, I already had breakfast. I had a big, fat bowl of Frosted Flakes and I enjoyed every sugary drop.”

“Be careful, I might just take that coffee back,” I said and walked out of his office. I closed the door behind me and tossed the muffin in the trash.

My job was to make the transition to a new assistant as seamless as possible. If that meant nagging him about his water and sugar intake, so be it. Although I did wonder why the sugar was an issue. Maybe he was diabetic. I should probably ask. That was something I needed to know just in case he needed close monitoring.

With the morning off to what I thought was a good start, I sat back down at the desk and started on the memo. I could hear the hum of voices and ringing phones down the hall. It was pretty cool that although we were in the office, we were still in our own little area. I could get very used to this job.

26

JON

“Mr. Simpson is here.” Macy’s voice floated through the air.

I smiled at the sound of it. Having her just outside my door was good and bad. I couldn’t stop focusing on the edge of my desk where she had been pushing up against. I could smell her in the office. It was both fresh and old from last night.

“Send him in,” I replied.

Working with Macy was going much better than I could have expected. She was efficient, and despite not allowing me my donut and snatching my candy bars, all was good.

What she didn’t know, nor did Mrs. Mabel, was that I kept a stash inside one of the books on the shelf. It was one of those books that was hollowed out in the center. When I bought the damn thing, it had been a joke. I wanted to see if my nosey assistant would find it. From what I could tell, she never had. I kept a pack of M and M’s and a Snickers for emergencies. A lot of people assumed a chocolate addiction was reserved for the fairer sex. I was living proof that was not the case.

“Daniel,” I said when my head of R and D walked into the office.

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