Carla sat across from me with her legs crossed, hands folded in her lap. Her sleek, black hair was in a ponytail and her lips were pursed. Marion was standing behind her. He was wearing a monochromatic teal jumpsuit. He was the only one that could pull off something like that. His beard and black hair slicked back paired well with the teal and his bronze complexion. They looked so professional, caricatures of what they looked like when I first met them, over a decade ago, when we were in college. Carla's hair had been wavy, always down to her hips. She'd only wear band t-shirts and ripped denim. Marion was ahead of the curve, stylish in his own right, his hair down to his shoulders. We used to jam out everyday, but it had been a long time since we played together. It had been a long time for a lot of things.
"I think he's exactly what you need," Carla said.
"I'm not interested in finding a replacement," I said. "It's not necessary."
"How is it not necessary? Don was a great asset."
"Because he was Don, not because he was just my assistant." I crossed my legs and rested my chin in my hand. I looked over to Don's empty desk. He was getting lunch with Jerry.
"And Emerson reminds me of Don, but the younger version of him," Carla said. "Besides, you need someone to manage your schedule and take your calls."
"Don hardly did that anyway," I said, not looking at her.
"So now is the opportunity to get someone to do it, and I think Emerson would be great. He's very punctual and eager to work. Plus, he's a big ball of energy and positivity and...I mean...he's really cute too," Carla said.
"He is quite handsome," Marion added.
"Right, because hiring someone because of how attractive they are is completely ethical," I said. I stood up and walked to the window, looking down at the New York City streets bustling about. "You can take him, if he wants."
"You know that's not what we mean, Lafayette," Marion said. "I don't think he would actually be interested in women either, actually."
"This conversation is getting inappropriate," I said flatly.
"Marion, don't be inappropriate," Carla said.
"Hey, he's the one who suggested it," Marion mumbled.
"I meant take him as in take him as your own assistant," I said, turning.
"We have assistants. You don't." Marion raised an eyebrow at me.
"Just at least interview him," Carla said. "I think you'll like him. Like I said, he always has a positive attitude and I just-"
Michael and Emilio entered the room, cutting Carla off. "Oh fun, what's this little meeting about? Anything we should know?" Michael asked, sitting on the couch.
"No, not really," I said.
"We're trying to convince him to find a replacement for Don," Carla said. "I suggested my temporary assistant, Emerson."
"Oh he's cute," Emilio said, making me sigh.
"Ew, don't waste your time," Michael said. "He won't hire anyone."
"Your reverse psychology won't work on me," I said, looking outside still.
"We think he should at least give the kid an interview," Marion said.
"Give who an interview?"
I turned and looked to the doorway where Don was standing. "They want me to interview an employee named Emerson, to be your replacement," I said.
"Oh right, Emerson. I've only talked to him a few times but I think he would be a good replacement. He's so...kind," Don said. "You should give him a chance."
They all looked at Don, then to me. I sighed and said, "Fine. I'll interview him."
They talked amongst themselves for a while but I just went back into my office. A few minutes later, Don entered. He didn't say anything, just sat on the sofa. I was going to miss having him in office but I wasn't going to say this. I didn't have to say this because he knew but it was something expected to be said. It would be a kind thing to tell him. It would be the right thing to tell him, plus more. I never thanked him for being a confidante, for being a father figure while mine was suffering from alcoholism. He knew I was thankful, but still. It was the right thing to tell him.
"Go ahead and schedule the interview Friday, anytime after two," I said.
"Of course, Lafayette," he said. He stood up but I only saw him in the corner of my eye as I looked at my computer. He debated on saying something, but didn't. Instead, he left.
The day wore on. I hate that saying but it's always accurate. The day really wears on. It was Monday. It hit five o'clock but I didn't leave. I rarely left on time. Plus, Richard liked to call after five o'clock. I enjoyed the days when he didn't call. It was maybe every other, sometimes random. This Monday, he did call, right on cue.
"Hello Lafayette," he said as I listened to him on my earpiece. He always started the conversation by telling me about whatever bullshit he had going on in his life. Then he would ask invasive questions. Who was I fucking? Man? Woman? Did I think of him? Was it good? I answered his questions until I didn't want to. When I didn't want to he would tell me I was being ridiculous. He was just joking. It wasn't a big deal. I was being stupid. He rambled on until I apologized and when I apologized he always found a way to end the phone call.
I was usually so full of anger and frustration after a phone call I went into my private flat, the "secret" 26th floor that was a mezzanine on top of the 25th floor. I would use the door to the left of my desk to take my private elevator up or down. The 26th floor had my personal gym, a kitchenette, a private bathroom, and a living area with a couch that could turn into a bed as well, for nights I didn't want to go to my townhouse (which was often). I worked out for a few hours: running on the treadmill, hitting the punching bag, using the rowing machine. I worked out until it hurt, at which point I hopped into the bathtub. I debated on inviting one of my hook ups over, but usually Richard's words were still in my head and I was too disgusted.
When Friday arrived, I almost forgot about the interview. I hadn't interviewed anyone else and I didn't plan on it. The last thing I would do is put out a job listing for just anyone to apply for. Carla's recommendation and Don's encouragement were the only reasons that Emerson was even getting a chance. I wasn't looking forward to the interview, mostly because I just didn't enjoy the process of giving interviews.
I entered the conference room where Emerson was waiting. He wasn't exactly what Carla and Marion made him out to be, in appearances I mean. He wasn't ugly, just not what I expected. Blue eyes, caramel colored hair, young but not juvenile. He smiled at me, excitedly, like he was actually eager to be there. He had a nice smile. I glanced at his resume, well constructed but not the most detailed. I appreciated the company loyalty nonetheless, especially with someone his age, just twenty-five.
"It is a little unconventional," I said. I knew Don had given him a low-down but also knew he most likely blew it out of proportion. "I'm sure Don made it seem like the position is more of...a friend, than an assistant. Not quite. I won't ask to-to, I don't know, hang out after work or play video games or go for drinks, you know. The most important thing about this position is I need someone I can trust. Will I reveal my deepest secrets to you? No, but you might see parts of me I don't reveal to the public. You might learn things about me that are private. I cannot, under any circumstance, have what goes on inside the office exposed to the outside."
Emerson nodded, trying hard to reassure me. It was hard to reassure me. "I need someone who is trustworthy," I said, looking at my notebook, hating having to say this. I had a hard time trusting people and lost trust easily.
Then, softly, Emerson said, "You can trust me."
I met my eyes with his. There was something about the way he said it, something in his subtle smile. I wanted to believe him. He sounded genuine actually. I didn't see any sinister or deceptive motives in his eyes. Still...
We continued with the interview. As an assistant, it was clear he was qualified, but I needed more than that. Even if I did just want an assistant, I knew it wouldn't work. I needed someone who could listen and be quiet, who wouldn't be easily bought off by the press, who wouldn't invade my personal space.
The interview ended but I stayed in the conference room once Emerson left. He did a good job. He was all smiles, very radiant. I did actually have a sense of newfound energy. I guess Carla and Don were right. There was something about him. He seemed genuinely...happy. Happy to work, happy to be interviewed, happy to live. I wasn't sure. Don was also right in that I did really need an assistant regardless of their personality. Still, it seemed Emerson was a good fit. The least I could do was give him a chance.