2.
ELIZABETH
Stepping onto the company jet was like stepping into another world. Each seat was oversized and looked more like a recliner you’d find in your home rather than a standard seat on an airplane. Mahogany workstations equipped with outlets and USB ports were positioned between two seats facing each other. I’d never flown on the jet alone before, and I felt almost ridiculous doing it, but I was thankful the higher ups allowed me to use it for this gathering. Having access to a private jet made traveling a hell of a lot easier.
A pretty brunette appeared at my side. “Can I get you something to drink, Miss Lyons?”
I pondered only for a moment before deciding that some alcohol wouldn’t be the worst idea I’d ever had. Not wanting to smell like a brewery or arrive tipsy at the party, I made my decision. “I’d love a glass of wine.”
“Of course. White or red?”
“White, please,” I said, not wanting to speak at this event with red-stained teeth.
Once in the air, drink in hand, I attempted to open the envelope that Barbara had sent with me. Placing down my glass, I tore open the sealed folder with both hands. Twenty-nine profiles were inside, twenty of them men. Each profile contained a photograph with the person’s name and age underneath as well as a brief biography and an analysis of what the company did for business and the person’s role in it. Side note: Most of them owned the companies where they worked.
This is why I loved Barbara. I would never have had the time or the initiative to think about doing this, but she did. She always instinctively knew, sometimes even before I did, what I’d need to be prepared for an event like this. She so deserved a raise.
Reading through the twenty-nine profiles, I acquainted myself with the other top youngsters on the West Coast. Barbara had been right about Daniel Alexander. His picture showed that he was ridiculously hot, and I’d admit that his was the only profile I had studied more than once. He founded and ran a web-based company in San Francisco, and he had a penchant for starting up and investing in small firms before selling them for billions. That was billions with a B.
He graduated at the top of his class, and from the looks of it, he wouldn’t do one thing for too long, which was a pretty common theme for the majority of tonight’s attendees. Business-hopping was one thing I couldn’t relate to when it came to my peers and their constant complaints about feeling unfulfilled.
I loved my job and the studio where I worked. It was never boring, and I was never bored. Aspects of my position sucked, and I disliked those immensely, but for the most part, every day would be different, and I loved being on the creative end of things. Creating art for people to consume inspired me.
****
As I walked onto the airstairs, wind ripped through my hair, blowing it in every direction. Each time I’d visited San Francisco in the past, I’d adored it, but honestly, I couldn’t wait to get back home to Los Angeles. The gloom, gusty, and cold air enveloping the city was in direct conflict with all the vibrant energy lying within it. Basically, I loved the way the city and its inhabitants seemed so inexplicitly alive, but I hated freezing my ass off to experience it.
“You look very nice tonight, Miss Lyons.” A driver dressed in a black-and-white suit offered me a hand as I reached the last step.
I glanced down at my black cocktail dress. It fit me snug and hugged my curves in all the right places without looking trashy. That was what happened when people made dresses based off your measurements. You would end up looking like a walking piece of art each time you stepped out of the house.
“Thank you. You look nice, too…” I paused as I waited for his name.
“Thomas,” he said as he held open the car door for me and I scooted inside.
“You look nice, too, Thomas. Any idea where we’re headed?”
He smiled as he fastened his seatbelt and started the engine. “Of course. We’re going to Atherton. Have you ever been there?”
“No. Is it a hotel?”
“It’s a city—well, a town actually. It’s the richest one in the nation.”
My eyes widened. Aside from San Francisco and Napa, I hadn’t been to many actual cities in Northern California, so I wasn’t familiar with the area. “In the nation? Seriously? How come I’ve never heard of it?”
“You wouldn’t know it if you weren’t from here. You’ll love it though. It’s beautiful. The houses are incredible. Even the older homes tend to have spectacular yards.”
“It sounds like something out of a fairy tale.” My mind recalled a script I’d read recently, describing an affluent town filled with lush green trees, large houses, and good-natured people.
“Wait until you see it.”
His eyes crinkled in the rearview mirror, and I knew he was smiling.
My phone pinged, forcing me to look away from Thomas and at my phone. Glancing down, I noticed a text message alert from Barbara. Part of Barbara’s job description required her to be on call twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. That wasn’t atypical for someone at my level, and I honestly tried to never use her that way unless it was an emergency. It was one thing that I chose to devote all my time toward work and climbing the studio ladder, but I believed it wasn’t fair of me to put those expectations on my assistant.
Are you there yet? How’s Daniel? Give him my phone number.
I chuckled to myself as I read her text and quickly typed out one of my own.
Not there yet. I’ll not only give him your number, but I’ll also write it on the bathroom wall. Wouldn’t want to limit your options.
The businesswoman in me wanted to chastise herself for being so loose and carefree in a text message. I’d witnessed firsthand how anything in writing, in any form, could come back to haunt you.
When I’d worked in the writing department, one of the more senior writers had informed the entire room that he had been keeping every email from his superior and had printed and compiled them into a binder in case the messages ever got lost mysteriously on the company server. He’d eventually sued the studio for wrongful termination and he’d won a shitload of money. It was all because of, literally, a few measly sentences that had been written via email in the heat of a disagreement. Had they been inappropriate? Sure. But hadn’t we all done something as innocent as that to one another before? I knew I had, and the thought terrified me.
It was that day when I’d realized that I would have to be careful about every single thing that I ever put into writing, in any form, to anyone. I’d censor my thoughts and my ideas, and I’d spend more time constructing HR-appropriate responses to each email. When words that could be misconstrued via email were required, I’d make sure they were only spoken in face-to-face conversations. It had been hard at first, and I had grown lax about it with the handful of people I trusted, people like Barbara.