Breakfast with Mia (2 page)

“You’re awfully punchy tonight. No, I need you to pick up a
friend of mine from the airport on Sunday. You can use one of my cars.”

“High school or college friend?”

“College. He owns his own private courier service for high
end international packages.”

“Interesting. I had no idea such a category even existed.
You want me to do it so he sees you employ a pretty, young assistant with a
quick wit who is willing to drop everything on a Sunday to fetch your friends
from the airport and deliver them to their hotel for you?”

Damien touched his chin and actually gave it some thought.
His deadpan seriousness made me grin.

“Yes, something like that.”

“Well I’m flattered, seriously, I am, but I can’t. There are
powers-that-be even higher than yours, Mr. Vaughn, and we all must answer to
them.”

His face fell in disappointment. “I didn’t know there were
any powers higher than mine.”

“My sister is having her last dress fitting on Sunday and both
mother and mother-in-law will be in attendance. You stand up to the
mother-in-law and win, Mr. Vaughn. I dare you.”

Damian sighed and plucked a stress ball off my desk which I
took from him immediately. “You’re the maid-of-honor for your sister’s wedding.
I forgot it was coming up. I got an invitation, right?”

“Right, and I RSVPed for you and picked out the gift you are
giving her. She’ll love it, Mr. Vaughn, it was very generous of you. All you
have to do is find your own date because that’s where I draw the line. I
suppose you’ve also forgotten I’m off next Friday because I will be getting my
sister a spa treatment then taking her and her friends out to get them incredibly
drunk?”

He picked up my Blackberry, absently started scrolling
through it. “Did I approve that?”

“A year ago. Honestly, do you even read the things I put in
front of you?”

“No. I trust you would point something out to me you didn’t
think I should sign.”

“If that were the case, I would be the one making gobs of
money,” I wrestled my phone from his sticky fingers and grabbed my paperweight
before he could manhandle it, “and you would be the one sharing a studio
apartment with Omar the Transvestite and eating leftover take-out every night
for dinner. You won’t miss me and you will not, under any circumstances, call
me.”

He gazed down at me hording my toys from him with great amusement.
I noticed his tie was loose at the collar and he’d wrangled a single button
open. If he were any more starched he’d be two-dimensional.

“You have a roommate named Omar the Transvestite?”

I considered this. “Well, most people just call him Omar.”

“How did I not know that?”

“You don’t ask.”

“Oh, well that’s true. Omar doesn’t exactly rank on my
need-to-know
list. What are you going to be doing Friday night with your sister and her
friends?”

“Unless you’d like to give me a raise tomorrow, I’ll be
plying drinks from men using my clichéd but effective feminine wiles.”

He smirked and slid off my desk, although for all intents
and purposes it was his desk. Everything belonged to him. He was the Vaughn of Vaughn
& Marley. “I’ll think about the raise if you’ll arrange a car for him. His
name is Stanley Beeber.”

“Limo or taxi?” I put my stuff back neatly from where he’d
stolen them.

“Not a limo. Something foreign and reliable. I don’t want to
look like I’m trying too hard to brag.”

“A Honda then.”

“You know what I like, Mia. See you tomorrow.” With that, he
closed his office door and I was free to leave.

It was depressing, really. The most stable relationship I
had was with my boss and it wasn’t even the sort I could gossip about.

Three

Few things are less enjoyable than a bridal store on a Sunday
afternoon, but there I was anyway in a burgundy strapless number with enough
folds and layers to make it weigh more than I did and cost as much as I make in
a week. My sister had once been my favorite person in the world, but standing
there amongst all the cupcake layers of tulle and lace, I thought about choking
her to death with her pearls.

The mothers were arguing over modesty panels when my phone
started playing an angry Beastie Boys’ song. A summons from Damian.

I snuck out of the cat fight, grateful and annoyed at the
same time. Stanley Beeber should have been delivered wrapped in a bow to his
hotel by now. It was all kinds of wrong for him to be calling me on a Sunday,
though it wouldn’t be the first time.

“It’s Sunday, Damian,” I said sweetly. “What do you want?”

He sounded surprised. “Damian? What happened to
Mr. Vaughn
?”

“It’s Sunday. Professionalism doesn’t apply when I’m not
being paid. What do you want?”

“I need your help.”

“Of course you do. Do you remember our conversation about
the higher laws? Go with the black Armani shirt with those shiny stripes and
the dark blue Versace tie. It makes you look artsy and sophisticated.”

He paused and I thought I could hear a taxi honking in the
background and the furor of pedestrians. “That’s not even the most expensive
shirt I own.”

“God, of course it’s not.”

“Come outside, Mia.”

“Come out…
what
?” I went to the window and sure
enough, there he was leaning casually against his town car. A small, bald man
waited in the back seat behind the driver. Stanley Beeber, I presumed, and
every bit his name. Damian had his phone in his hands, was punching it with his
thumbs with increasing violence, a Bluetooth in his ear. The wind mussed his
hair, but he looked good and casual in a plum red button up and chinos. I
rarely ever saw him out of his expensive suits. “How in the hell did you find
me?”

“I have my ways, now get out here.”

I snapped my phone off, glanced at the bride and
mother-zillas, and decided now was as good a time as any to indulge my
psychotic boss in his co-dependency issues. I hiked up my yards of satin and
slipped out the door and onto the street. He didn’t look up at first, but when
he did, his bright blue millionaire eyes blinked, astonished.

“Wow, Mia.”

“Wow, stalker. I’m a little busy trying to make my sister’s
dreams come true.” I ducked my head down and held my hair from my face so I
could see into the car. “Mr. Beeber. I trust you had a nice flight?”

“Oh, yes, yes. It was pleasant. Thank you for the wine in my
hotel room. Very thoughtful.”

I straightened and gave Damian my best squinty-eye. “See,
I’m thoughtful, and you’re infringing on my away-from-work-time. How can I
possible serve you, Mr. Vaughn?”

“I can’t unlock my phone.”

I sighed, plucked his phone from his hands and started
punching in codes. Somehow he’d managed to turn the language to French. “You
could have called your service provider.”

“Whose number is not programmed into my phone by voice
command. Do you think I like having to track you down for every little thing?
It’s like being married without the,” he paused and I paused. I glanced up from
his phone, raised a slow eyebrow, and dared him to finish that sentence. He
cleared his throat first and glanced away. “You should feel flattered I need
you as much as I do.”

His tone was playful, as usual, but also a little
frustrated. He’d had me organizing his life the moment I was hired, and truth
was I was just better at it than he was. It was meant to be that day I stepped
out of college and begged the HR lady in his building for a job, any job,
please God give me a job. He’d been standing there, enjoying the demonstration of
my lack of dignity or self-respect, and hired me. The first thing he did was
hand me his phone and say, “
Make this work
.” His lock code was my
birthday.

“Flattered,” I sighed.

Damian’s cheeks flushed warm and he looked down at the
ground between us, stuffed his hands into his pockets while he waited. The way
he slouched on purpose, he looked like a fashion ad. “You look very nice in
that dress, Mia. You clean up surprisingly well. Are they letting you keep your
hair the way you like it?”

I blew a strand of the fire engine red from my eyes in
protest. “Would you believe that discussion is on our agenda for today? We have
an
agenda
. They fucking printed it out before we left this morning.
Weddings are monstrous affairs. They’ll have to hold me down and shave my head
first.”

“That is something I would buy tickets to see.” He reached
up and tucked the errant piece of hair out of my eyes and behind my ear, then
jerked his hand back quickly. I finished changing the language and pressed his
phone back into his hands.

“Your independence has been won, my lord and master. Is
there anything else I can do for you for free?”

 “Condescending sarcasm is not cute on any woman, Miss Waters.
I like the lord and master part, though. Maybe
Emperor Vaughn
or
your
majesty
? Can you get some business cards made?”

“Leave, before I murder you and hide your body in the tulle
and lace room.”

“That’s the obedient assistant I like to hear. See you
tomorrow at breakfast, Mia. Say hello to your mother for me.” He waved and I
turned to see a gaggle of my family pressed ardently against the windows to get
a good view of my humiliation. I frowned at his headlights before stomping back
inside.

***

Damian relaxed in the big front window of the coffee shop,
our private table because no matter how crowded the place was, that table was
always open. He was reading the paper and didn’t seem to notice he was
slouching in a suit so expensive it made me sick to think about. His hair was
tamed this morning, dark and still a little damp.  

I pulled my coat buttons apart as I made my way around the
tables to where he waited with my breakfast and white chocolate mocha latte.

“Is that their special?” I asked, a little surprised at the
plate of two donuts he had set out for me. I slumped into my chair and
disentangled myself from my coat.

“Yes, and your barbaric coffee drink.” He didn’t look up
from his newspaper as I settled in.

“It just seems kind of, I don’t know. Pedestrian. You know?”

“Bit of a spoiled brat, aren’t you?” He glanced up and I
stuck my tongue out at him. He smirked. “It’s pistachio glaze, if that tarts it
up enough for you.”

“Oh, well, that’s a horse of a different color altogether.”
I picked up the donut, careful not to crush the glaze as much as possible, and
took a decadent bite. The pistachio flavor was subtle but consistent and the
glaze melted quickly on my fingers and tongue. It was over too quick though,
and I licked my fingers like a heathen.

Damian shook his head and turned back to his paper. “Raised
by wolves,” he muttered.

***

The office was up in arms when we got there, people swarming
the copy room like Brad Pitt was in there signing autographs without a shirt on.
I gave Damian a
what-the-fuck-is-going-on
look and he just shrugged. I
wanted to call BS because who doesn’t know what’s going on in his own company
to make people start behaving like animals over the last package of post-it
notes?

It was like the end of the world, the way they ran around,
making calls, throwing paper.

And then there she was, The Dragon in Dolce & Gabbana,
on fire, charging us as if we were a tiny village begging to be burned to the
ground.

“No way, I’m out of here.” I made to run and Damian grabbed
my arm in a vice-like grip and held me against his side.

“If you leave me right now, you’re fired.”

I plastered my face with a placating smile and held still. “I
hate you,” I hissed through my teeth, then greeted our destruction. “Ms.
Aguirre! Love the dress. This season, right?”

“Speak when you’re spoken to,” she snapped and came right up
to Damian like she planned to jam her tongue down his throat. In her insane
high heels she stood level with Damian and stared him down like her very life
blood depended on his complete domination. And then she grabbed his coat and
shirt in her blood red fists and growled like an animal.

“This account is
mine
, Damian.
Mine
, and if
it’s not I will sacrifice someone, starting with your pet assistant, do you
understand me?
Mine
.”

I swallowed. Damian swallowed.

“Corrine, I really have no idea what you’re talking about.
Clearly it means a lot to you, though.”

“For fucks sake. Maybe if you spent less time at breakfast
and more time trying to rule the industry.” She let him go with a shove, her
red red nails bright in the fluorescents. “You’ve got five minutes to catch up,
and then I’m taking this account by the balls and going to Blackwell with it.
Do you understand?”

“I’ll see you in five, Corrine.”

“Want me to get you a coffee while you wait, Ms. Aguirre?”

“Oh, go staple something, useless sychophantic
whore
.”
The Dragon spun away from us and made for her secretary’s desk, firing death
threats between each command. I stared, and then started after her but Damian’s
grip pulled me back to him.

“Not today, Mia.”

He led me to my desk with a grip that actually started to
hurt. “Did you hear what she called me? I don’t even know what
sychophantic
means,
but whore I got. I am offended deep in my soul.”

Damian put me in my chair and started scrolling his phone
for some clue as to what had turned the office into a mad house. “It means to
use flattery to win favor from people of influence.”

I scoffed and threw my coat over the back of my chair and
booted up my computer. “I most certainly do not flatter you for anything.”

He sighed and headed for his office. “No, you don’t, but I
think I could use some today. Please go find me some gossip, Mia. Right now.”