Chapter 3

"Emerson!

I looked up to the voice that called my name. I faced a sleek, black Rolls Royce. The window was rolled down and Mr. Jeff was smirking at me from the driver's seat.

"Hop in," he said. How did he know I rode the bus to work?

I climbed into the passenger seat. "Where to?" I asked, because he had two hours before he had to be any where.

"Shopping," he said.

Oh right. They said I'd go shopping with him. They acted devious while saying that though, and it made me nervous. I mean, what's so wrong with shopping? I discovered the reason once we made it to Lafayette Fashion. We went upstairs, past all the departments and up a spiral staircase to the smaller second floor. I could tell it was his personal tailor. There were racks and shelves of clothes waiting to be worn and tailored. So many colors and fabrics, shoes, ties, jackets, and socks. Pants and shirts and vests. Everything.

"Hello Mr. Jeff," greeted a middle-aged man in a pinstripe suit.

"Hello Marion," Mr. Jeff replied.

"Here for something new huh?"

"No, not me. My assistant. Emerson this is Marion Rodriguez. Marion, this is my new assistant Emerson Lane.

"Ah, so you're the new Donald," he said.

"Yeah, that's me," I said shyly.

"Well Mr. Lane we'll take great care of you. Carla!" A woman with a black ponytail, glasses and a sultry walk approached us. "Take Emerson and measure him up alright?"

"Of course. Come with me," she said and led me to a different part of the floor in front of some mirrors. I could see Mr. Jeff and Mr. Rodriquez talking to each other but wasn't sure what they were saying. They'd glance at me every now and then and it just made me turn red more.

She finished the measurements and walked over to her boss, him saying something to her quietly. She smiled a little and glanced up at Mr. Jeff, who just had the same smirk on his face. They took me towards the clothes and made me try on some things and then Carla and a few other people would sew things in and make them fit. They gave me an outfit to wear for the rest of the day, a pair of lighter blue dress pants with a black belt and white button-up, and a beige jacket. I was totally sickening. I looked great.

"The remainder of your clothing will be sent to the office," Mr. Jeff said on the way to the office. "Half of the clothes will stay there and then the other half you can take home tonight. Michael will drive you home today so you don't have to carry all of them on the bus."

"Why would half stay at the office?" I asked.

"In case you end having to stay the night there or if we're going some place that requires nicer clothing. This is just casual wear."

"Will this be coming out of my paycheck?" I asked.

"Em, you don't have to even worry about your paycheck when you're working as my assistant. I set up your direct deposit and you get paid every Friday. But no, it's not out of your paycheck.."

"You know you didn't have to," I mumbled. Of course, he wanted to.

"Nonsense. You'll discover that you get more than just a paycheck with me, Em. If we have to go to Chicago or L.A. then you won't have to worry about transportation. If we have to go to dinner somewhere then don't worry about the tab. You getta do a lot of different things, Em."

"I just always feel bad about taking people's money and not returning it," I said.

"Em," he said as he pulled up to the building. He looked over at me. "Surely you should know that money isn't that important considering on how much I make in a year. A thousand dollars to me is like a dollar to the average American." He sighed. "Which is quite sad in the end."

"Yeah...but at least you donate a bunch of money to charities. More than anyone. I read an article that said you had given the most money to charities ever. And I guess that's another thing. You don't have to waste money on me. You can just give that to charities, too."

He smiled. "You're a good kid," he said, getting out of the car and making me feel like a dumb little kid. Kid? Ugh. Thirty? Yeah. Only eight years older than me! "I guess I shouldn't call you a kid," he said as we entered the building. "You're not."

"My mom says I look like one," I mumbled.

"No. You don't. Maybe a boyish face, but you look like a twenty-two-year-old still. No, you just have something childish about you. There's nothing wrong with that, though. I like it. Einstein was a genius but he loved being childish, too."

"But I'm not a genius like him."

"Nonsense. Everyone can be a genius in their own way."

"The Genius of Awkwardness I guess."

He smiled at me and we went into his personal elevator. We stopped at the 24th floor and went into his office, Emilio and Michael showing no shame in staring at me all over. It wasn't until later when Mr. Jeff was in a meeting on the 20th floor that he didn't need me when Emilio and Michael came into the office. They were both smirking at me as I looked at myself in the reflection of the window. "My ass is too flat for this," I said. "I don't have one to look at."

"You have a fat ass honey," Emilio said, making Michael laugh as my jaw dropped.

"No I don't," I protested.

"Turn to the side," he said.

I turned to the side and looked at myself. Okay, so maybe my butt was a little bit bigger than the average man's. I'm slender. Guys shouldn't be slender. And I stuff my face with so much food and yet I don't gain weight. Yes, I'm one of those people. Everyone knows someone who's like that. They eat so much food but they hardly grow any. I've been blessed, yes, but it's like I've been too blessed. I'd like some muscle, but when I used to try and work out it didn't work. I never got any abs or anything. My waist is toned, yeah. It's solid, but the sides are squishy like a girl's. It's smaller than the width of my ribs and that's how I get my curves. Just a slight hourglass. Then the hips are pretty big, too, very child-bearing, and my ass is fat. I think I was meant to be a girl. Maybe I'm intersexual or something and just don't know it. Or otherwise I've been feminized too much and along with being gay I have to look like a girl. Wonderful. I guess it's not too bad if my boss wants to check me out.

"You're so girly," Emilio said, laughing.

I turned to them, a frown on my face. "I refuse to perpetuate gender stereotypes."

"But at least you're a pretty girl," Michael chided.

"Thanks. This builds my masculinity up alright."

"Oh what masculinity? Do you really try to be masculine? Do you really want to be that fragile?"

I frowned more. "No, but I'd rather not get mistaken for a girl. Guys won't want to date me."

"If you keep looking like a thot it won't be a problem," Michael said.

"I'm not a thot!" I insisted. "Well...maybe a little. I never get cold, so."

They laughed, and I felt relieved knowing they could laugh with me. The two left and I plopped into my spinny seat, spinning around, waiting for Mr. Jeff. If he wasn't here or I didn't have a phone to my ear, then I didn't have anything to do. It was kind of nice, but it could get boring.

Luckily, the phone rang and I answered it with "Hello, Lafayette Jeff's office."

"Hi. Who the hell is this?" asked the man on the other end.

"Uh, Emerson Lane, Mr. Jeff's new assistant."

"Oh right. I need to see Lafayette tomorrow evening at six."

"Alright, let me just see if he's available."

"No, you don't have to do that. This is his father. He'll drop any appointment to see me."

"Oh alright. Well I'll let him know then."

"Alright. Thanks kid." Then he hung up again. Maybe calling people "kid" was genetic.

I sighed and leaned back, thinking about Mr. Jeff's family. I decided to Google him. His Wikipedia page said:

Lafayette Jackson Jeff (born January 30th, 1983) is an American business magnate, investor, inventor, fashion designer, and philanthropist. He is the current chief executive of Lafayette Inc., which he founded in 2003. He is ranked in the Forbes list of wealthiest people in the world at number one and has been ranked that since 2008. Jeff holds the position of CEO and remains the largest shareholder, with 6.5 percent of common stock. Jeff is a well-known entrepreneur and has revolutionized the world of business and invention.

I skipped some stuff and went to his early life section.

Jeff was born in Brookfield, New York and is the son of Beaumont Jeff and Marjorie Lennox Jeff. His ancestry includes French, Greek, and Irish. His father was born in New York City and his family immigrated to America in the 1920's, working as factory employees. Beaumont Jeff worked as a factory employee from the age of 17 and up until he was forty-three when his son Lafayette paid for his and his mother's retirement. His mother was a housewife, having to take care of her five children; Claude (b. 1980), Axelle (b. 1981), Lafayette (b. 1983), Clovis (b. 1985), and Delphine (b. 1987).

I scrolled through some more, trying to see some more stuff that no one already didn't know.

Lafayette Jeff was first chair trumpet at Brookfield School in the concert band and was the lead guitarist in the jazz band. He was also in choir and would often perform "lounge" ensembles with his long-time friends and business partners Emilio Martinez and Michael Day. Jeff got accepted to Juilliard and majored in music, playing the first chair violin in his freshman year of college, but dropped out as a sophomore with ambitions to start a company similar to Wal-Mart, but better. He asked his neighbors Vince Jackson - Lee and Donald Jackson - Lee along with Martinez and Day to help him create the company, Vince having been an economics teacher.

I scrolled some more, going past the section that actually explains his company. There was also a part on his philanthropy but I skipped that, too, knowing that he was already a great guy and donated millions of dollars. I instead went to his personal life section.

Little is known about Jeff's personal life, only about his past and information about his family. Once he started his company he became a very private man, even refusing to get a cell phone. Many of his associates don't know much about him either, only the Jackson - Lees, Day, and Martinez know what happens behind closed doors. He has been seen out with many women but the media reports him to have been single for a long time but a man who "fulfills his needs with whomever is available at the time.

Hm. Damn.

There have been many rumors about Jeff's sexuality, due to the fact that there is little known about his love and sex life. People have reported seeing him hang around as many men as he does women at parties of his friends and associates. Jeff never discloses any information about his sexuality or relationships. He has shown his support for the LGBTQ community by donating money to the organization GLSEN before.

If we ever dated then...I could be in Wikipedia. Cool.

Lafayette Jeff has been accused of multiple crimes, such as smuggling, drug-dealing, stealing, and pirating. Though in all cases he has been proven innocent, however he has been accused of performing "mafia-like" actions and deals and Wes Crooks was recorded to have said "Lafayette Jeff was only proven innocent because he paid everyone off. He probably paid them all five million dollars just to shut their mouths. Let's face it. Five million dollars to him is like twenty dollars. I'm certain he'd give that much money just to save his ass." However, no evidence has risen about his "mafia-like" actions.

"So, Em, what do I have in store for today?" Mr. Jeff asked, entering the room.

I quickly clicked off the page and said, "Well our lunch should be here in thirty minutes. Then after that at two you have a meeting with Mr. O'Riley. After that you just have to manage stocks and investments, do the whole calling thing until you wish to go home. What time am I leaving today?"

"Whenever Michael leaves," he answered.

"Alright. Oh, and your father called."

He seemed very casual and in a good mood, but once I mentioned his father he stopped and glanced at me, that smirk not on his face. He nodded and sat in his chair. "What did he say?" he asked.

"Well, he said he wanted to meet with you tomorrow at six."

He nodded again and grimaced a smile. "Excuse me." He started to dial a number and sat on his desk, looking out the window as he held the receiver against his ear. I stood up and walked to his desk. I pressed the button on his desk to make the curtain slowly fall. He glanced at me, and then he gave me a genuine smile as I went to the other part of the room quickly. The curtain muffled his call so I couldn't hear. I doubt he wanted me to listen to a personal call. I sat there for a few good minutes and only heard a loud "What?" being asked along with a sigh. I heard him put his phone down and the curtain slowly started to rise.

He was sitting in his seat, looking out the window. A sign of a bad mood.

I scratched the back of my head and stood up. "Remember what I said about not knowing how to rub your feet?"

He looked up at me, tilting his head. He looked a little amused, which was much better. "Yes," he said.

"I suppose I can attempt?"

He smiled. "Are you sure?"

"I have to learn sooner or later."

"Well why don't you sit in the chair and I show you." So we traded places and I took my shoes off.

The second he grabbed my foot I jumped, due to the fact I was incredibly ticklish. "Sorry," I mumbled. "Go ahead." He attempted again but I ended up laughing. "I'm sorry," I said laughing, but then he continued and I couldn't stop giggling like some kid.

"Just rub your thumbs into it. Push and release. It's a nice feeling, unless you're ticklish."

I was holding my gut, covering my face because I hated my smile. "Okay!" I laughed. "I got it."

He stopped rubbing my feet, smirking up at me. I expected to get on the floor and him in the seat, but instead he took off his shoes and lied backwards, putting a foot into my lap. I started to rub his feet the way he did with me, but he wasn't giggling like a schoolgirl. He had his eyes closed but I could still tell he was thinking.

"Now when it comes to back rubs, it's a different story. I'll show you that some other day. As for hands, it's the same," he told me.

"I know I'm not ticklish on my hands." I completely ignored the part about back rubs because for fuck's sake I had no idea if he was being serious or not. Nobody mentioned back rubs!

He sat up, removing his foot and grabbed my hand, rubbing thumbs into it, which felt very wonderful. That's probably the way his foot rub felt. I wouldn't know.

"You have delicate hands. Have you ever tried piano?" he asked me.

"I use to play for the choir in high school."

He nodded, rubbing some more.

"Sorry about not getting a flower," I said, because I had forgotten to go and get one.

"No. It's alright. I picked you up and so you weren't able to get one. I should let you borrow my car."

I stared at him in disbelief. "You mean your Rolls Royce?"

"One of them."I was floored.

"Really? You'd trust me?"

"Of course. How's your driving?"

"Uh...I don't have my license."

He raised a brow at me. "Right. Maybe I shouldn't trust you."

I laughed. "No, uh, I just never got around to it. We only ever had one car and my parents worked at the same place and I was never able to learn. Then I came to the city and the bus was fine."

He nodded and said, "Well, perhaps I can teach you in the future and then you can drive one of them."

We stopped with all the rubbing once our food arrived and we at it at his desk, me on one side and him in his chair. Michael was right. He did want me to try all his food, and he got a lot of food. It makes you wonder how he stays so fit, but since I scheduled his days I saw that he worked out every evening at nine. No wonder. He kept asking me if I had ever had this or if this was good and if I wanted anything else. After I had eaten just about everything and was getting full he asked me if I wanted anything else.

"No," I said. "I'm fine. I can't hold down my food if I eat it too much. It's like I have that lapband thing. Where they put the band around your stomach so you can't eat. Yeah. I end up barfing if I eat too much, and I don't think you wanna see that."

"I'll keep that in mind. I'm going to go to my meeting now. I'll be back in an hour, Em," he said, standing and throwing away his plate.

"Alright. I'll take your calls."

"Oh no. No one calls me from two to four. That's typically my busy hour. If they call then they obviously have no reason to." He smiled at me and walked out the door.

I ended up fiddling around on my computer for a while, but got bored of it because everyone was boring. So I put on my jacket and checked the time. I had forty minutes to do whatever. I quickly went down to the first floor and exited the building. I walked down the street and went all the way to Mount's Flower Shop. I went in and smelled all the beautiful flowers.

"Hello," said an elderly woman.

"Hi," I replied.

"What can I do for you?"

"Well, I just need one flower, but I need one flower every single day. My boss really likes them and it's my job to put a flower in his vase everyday for him. Is there any way we can do that?"

"Yes, I believe so. Where's your work?"

"It's just down the road, ten minutes walking time. Lafayette HQ."

"We have delivery boys here and so every morning I can have one send a flower to you."

"Okay. Once you enter the building there will be a big desk and a woman named Carol behind it. Give the flower to Carol and I'll get it once I walk in."

"Alright. How will you be paying for this?"

"Can I set up a tab?"

"Yes you can."

We filled out the paperwork and I told her to just use roses, but if I wanted to change it up then I'd call her before hand. I walked back to work and told Carol a flower would arrive everyday and she said she'd keep it on her desk and I'd grab it. While I was at the flower shop I grabbed one then and put it in his vase for him. I was at my desk when he returned. He first went into the room I wasn't allowed to go into and a few minutes later he come out in a different, more casual look. He walked over to his desk and sat down. He glanced at the flower adoringly and before he could look at me I looked away.

"Did you get this at Mount's?" he asked.

"Yeah. I didn't have much to do," I replied.

"It's lovely," he said, admiring it.

"Maybe you should open a flower shop."

He tilted his head. "I would, but flower shops are more personal. Maybe when I'm older and leave position of CEO I'll open my own flower shop. That way I can tend to them myself."

"That sounds nice."

Michael came in shortly after and announced he was going home. He helped me carry my many piles of clothing and drove me home where he then carried some clothes up to my apartment. A look of distaste was written on his face as he looked at my gaudy apartment.

"I know," I told him. "It's way too boho. It was this way when I moved in."

"I see. Quite small. Cozy for one person I suppose. If you lived in a big place you'd probably feel even more lonely," he said.

"Like I could feel more alone."

"Oh, believe me, you can. Look at your boss." And with that he left.

I sat on my bed, my clothes sitting around the room because my closet wasn't big enough. I glanced out the window, the afternoon still young. It was almost five and I had nothing to do. I ended up taking a nap, having a bizarre dream within a dream about being on some Eminem game show with Matt Damon. Totally weird. Once I woke up it was nine o'clock. Great. Now I'd never get to sleep. I took a shower and ate some dinner. I hopped onto the couch and scrolled through my phone. I decided to call Mr. Jeff.

"Hello this is Lafayette Jeff," he answered.

"Hi Mr. Jeff, this is Em," I replied.

"Oh," he said, surprised. Right. Michael said there was no reason for me to ever call him. "What can I do for you Em?"

"Well, I ended up falling asleep and I know I won't be able to go back to sleep so I figured if you answered the phone then it meant you were still working. Do you need any help?"

He paused, and I just knew he was surprised. "No, Em, I'm fine. I was just about to go work out and after I planned on sleeping. Why don't you take some sleeping pills? That way you'll be nice and awake in the morning. You'll have to have some energy for tomorrow."

"What're we doing tomorrow?"

"You'll see. Now if you excuse me I must be burning off all this food I ate."

"Right," I said.

"Thanks for calling Em. It was very nice of you to offer to help."

"No problem."

I heard the smile in his voice.

"Good night Em."

"Good night, Mr. Jeff."