Chapter 1

 

Six Months later

 

Chris

 

 

“Garcia, office. Now!”

I pressed send on the email I had opened and straightened my tie. Last time my manager called me into his office was to introduce me to the new intern last summer. The intern who I happened to hook up with the night before and didn’t get her number. The same hookup and intern who happened to be his fresh-out-of-high-school daughter. If she was in a club and had a rack like that, there was no way to tell her age or who her dad was.

“Yes, sir,” I said, popping out of my cubicle.

My roommate and co-worker, Danny, whispered, “dead man walking” as I strolled by his desk and I shot him a glare before running my fingers through my dark brown hair. My fade was starting to grow out, and I needed to see a barber, but things were a lot more expensive in the city than Jersey so I’d probably end up having one of my other two roommates do a quick buzz.

“Yes, sir,” I said, walking into Mr. Davis’ corner office with the floor-to-ceiling windows that gave a view of the Hudson.

“Close the door and have a seat,” Mr. Davis said, already at his desk with his reading glasses perched on his nose and his eyes trained on his computer.

“Yes, sir,” I nodded, swallowing hard before shutting the door and then walking the few steps to sit in the uncomfortable leather chair across from him.

I sat up as straight as I could, folding my hands on my lap. I’d been working at Tate & Cane since I graduated high school. I came to New York and lived in a youth hostel while I tried to become a model. It turns out every brown boy that comes to the city to be a model doesn’t always make it, so I had the backup of working as a janitor. Over the years, I worked my way up from janitor to mail room clerk to assistant to the assistant to just plain assistant and now finally to junior associate. This basically meant I did the bitch work that the senior associates didn’t want to do. Most people bitched about it, but my Instagram game was strong at 100,000 followers, and I had a good knack for doing clients branding.

In the early days I thought it could help me get discovered, now, after ten years in the city, I was just ready to get to the next level at Tate & Cane and a paycheck that would get me my own place without three roommates who made it very hard when I brought in an overnight guest. Or well a few hour-long guest at least.

Mr. Davis typed a few things on his computer, not even looking at me. “Remember a few months ago when you asked if you could take the lead on the Morningstar account?”

I nodded. “Yes, sir. You said I wasn’t ready, but since then I’ve been working extra hard, proving myself with working on the social media branding for two of Morningstar’s swimming sponsors, including that big sportswear company.”

I was a little bitter that some old ass dude who didn’t even know who Olympic superstar, Jay Morningstar was, got the account and I just had to handle the social media, but I let it roll off my shoulders and worked extra hard to make sure my part kicked ass.

“Well, you’re in luck, kid, because we have a new client that could use someone with your go-getter attitude. I’m giving you the lead on this account,” Mr. Davis said, barely glancing at me.

I tried to hide my enthusiasm, even though I wanted to start dancing in the middle of his office, I just nodded instead. “Thanks, sir. I won’t let you down.”

He smirked. “Good, you’re meeting her tonight. My secretary already made reservations at that tapas place down the street.”

Dinner? Her?

“Okay, sir. I’ll get with your secretary to get the details. Thank you,” I said, standing up and putting my hand out for Mr. Davis to shake.

He didn’t even smile as he stood up, giving me a rough handshake. “Keep from fucking this up, and you could be moving out of that cubicle.”

I forced a smile. “I won’t let you down.”

Walking out of his office with a little bit more of a spring in my step, I swung around the corner to Mrs. Templeton’s desk. The woman was middle-aged and reminded me of my Aunt Rosie, who was the assistant to one of the CEOs. Though Mrs. Templeton was more like Mrs. Brady than Auntie Rosie and her Latin temper that she liked to let out on one of her six kids or me when I was out of line.

“Hey, Mrs. Templeton, I’m supposed to get with you on the details of my dinner meeting with a new client,” I said, leaning on her way-too-clean white desk.

“Oh, stepping up to the big leagues with your own client now? Does your aunt know?” Mrs. Templeton asked.

The company may have been bigger than the town Dad and Aunt Rosie grew up in, just south of the border in Mexico, but everyone seemed to know my aunt and her empanadas.

I grinned, feeling a sense of pride as I adjusted my tie. “Haven’t told her yet. I’ll make sure to go up and tell her and call my mom soon, though.”

Mrs. Templeton smiled, looking at her computer and typing a few things. Just as quickly as her smile appeared, it disappeared when she stared at the screen.

“Is something wrong?” I asked, trying to look at the monitor, but she had a darkened screen protector that kept me from seeing.

Mrs. Templeton swallowed then forced a small smile. “It appears your new client is also a new client to the company. That actress from that vampire show, Mary James.”

Every hair on my body stood on end.

Six months ago, Mary James was a big deal. You couldn’t go anywhere without seeing her on some sort of billboard advertisement for her show Vamps in the City or look at anything on social media or magazines without seeing her and her then boyfriend, Eddie Justice, walking hand in hand to some gala.

But that was before a sex tape of her sandwiched between two cops went viral. Since then she’d fired every publicist, she’d worked with and had been killed off the TV show. There were rumors that after her engagement had ended, she went into hiding and gained one-hundred pounds and now lived in a hostel in Mexico.

Of course, I didn’t believe any of that, but I kept up with my Twitter and saw the random conspiracy theories.

“Okay. What time should I be there? And think I should go for the black or charcoal suit?” I asked, regaining my composure.

Mrs. Templeton’s smile widened a bit. “You’d look great in anything, Christiano.”

Only Mrs. Templeton, my mother, and aunt called me by my real name, and despite the fact I mostly went by Chris, it always made me grin when they used Christiano.

I patted my hand on her desk. “Charcoal it is.”

Giving her a little wave, I headed back toward my desk, and Danny poked his head over my cube like a Meerkat. “Hey, dude, your phone has been buzzing off the hook. Did you get fired and your aunt told your mom before telling me?”

I rolled my eyes and grabbed my phone off the desk as another text popped up.

 

Mama: Mijo! A promotion and new client! I’m so proud!

 

“Guess Aunt Rosie really does know everything before I do,” I grumbled, setting my phone down.

“So what happened?” Danny asked, widening his eyes.

“It looks like I’m meeting with a new client for dinner tonight, so I should probably get a hair appointment,” I said, swiveling in my chair.

“A client? As in, a real one? Not just handling some body builder’s twitter account?” Danny’s hands gripped on the side of the cube.

“Yup. And if I can handle this one, I’ll be out of the cubes and into my own office,” I said, leaning back in my chair and putting my worn out loafers against the cubical wall between us.

“Holy shit, man. That’s awesome! Who’s the client?”

I hesitated then licked my lips. “Mary James.”

“No shit? The porn star?”

I shook my head. “One sex tape doesn’t make someone a porn star. Besides, I heard that whole thing was faked to make her ex jealous.”

Danny shook his head. “I don’t know, man, that’s going to be a hell of a lot of work to fix that girl’s image. It looks like you’ll be hanging out in this cube a bit longer.”

I smirked. “Don’t underestimate me, Danny. Pretty soon you’ll have to make appointments through my secretary for lunch.”

“Yeah, we’ll see if either of us lives to see that day,” Danny said before getting back in his cubicle.

He was right, of course. This was going to be a hell of a lot of work to fix this girl’s PR, but I was up for the challenge. I hoped.