Cake Love: All Things Payne (23 page)
Read Cake Love: All Things Payne Online
Authors: Elizabeth Lynx
Chapter 2 - THE After Effects ...
It's been three days since THE interview and as I mentioned in my previous post Mr. Henrik Payne is known to be a ball buster/vagina smasher and a very handsome one at that. I am starting to think that's not the correct phrasing when describing the man. A more appropriate analysis is silent but deadly. To get a full understanding of what I am explaining, I'll take you back to the beginning.
It all starts on a beautiful autumn day, the year 1985. A young couple named Annette and James Drake ...
oh wait that is WAY too far back. Let me start again.
When I last left you I happened to be sitting in a sticky fog of hormonal hyperventilation. It takes a few minutes for that to clear and for me to come back to my senses. At one point Mr. Payne becomes so alarmed at my state he directs me to lie on his couch until I feel well enough to continue with the interview. To say I am mortified greatly undersells the situation. At this moment, as color returns to my face, I start to plan my suicide. Death by pints of ice cream, candy bars and hours of
30 Rock
reruns.
Eventually I do complete the interview which isn't at all how I imagined it to be. Mr. Payne stares at his phone, computer or my resume the whole time. Every few minutes the interview is interrupted with phone calls or emails he "just has to deal with." I take it as a sign of his typical working day and adjust my answers accordingly. Even his rapid fire questioning I accept with ease, despite my earlier mishap. What I am not prepared for is his robotic like expression.
I will let you in on a little secret. Something that has allowed me to work my way up the corporate ladder so quickly. I can read people. There are tiny little tics and facial expressions people give off without realizing it that can tell me everything I need to know. I learned this trick from my roommate, Jan, in college. She was a psychology major. Apparently there is a whole field of study in the area of body language.
Anyway, like the desperate woman I am I try to read this man's face. Nothing. Not even a flush of his cheeks. So, I have to just give my answers as best I can and pray to the mighty god THE, ruler of all things THE, that he/she will see fit to make Mr. Payne like what comes out of my mouth.
This is when the silent part enters the story. The interview ends, only I have no idea it is finished because he never tells me. I just sit there like an idiot smiling at him, trying not to fantasize about his strong arms as he continues typing away at his computer. Finally he stands and leaves the room. I remain seated for another fifteen minutes until the blonde woman who originally showed me into the room comes back.
"Ms. Drake. The interview is over. Mr. Payne left this for you."
She walks over to where I am still seated, handing me an envelope and then exits. Stunned, I pick up my bag and make my way out to the lobby elevators. One opens and I step into the barren box. I must have really pissed him off, if he left without a word. Perhaps he became aware of my leering. As I make a mental list of all the possible things that could have ruined the interview, almost fainting topping the list, I glance down at the envelope and decide to open it. My shaking hands rip the paper and pull out the white letter with the black Times New Roman typeface. My eyes widen and my brain takes a few seconds to comprehend the words spaced neatly on the page.
I bring my hand to my mouth to stifle the scream that fights to break free while tears run down my face. How is this even possible?
I feel sick as in I-shouldn't-have-had-the-last-half-of-the-eggnog-latte sick. Have you ever read something that isn't quite right, so you read it several times before the words actually sink in? That is my reaction to Mr. Payne's letter. It's ... odd. I still have no idea if I got the job. You can read it and be the judge (and let me know I'm not crazy!).
Dear Ms. Drake:
Thank you for your time today. Our meeting was quite informative.
I'm going to stop right here for a moment. These first two lines are standard. He most likely uses these sentences on every business correspondence he has and probably some personal ones. Imagine him sending an email to a girlfriend:
Dear Bimb
o
(
because I imagine that is the type of woman he dates ... what? Stop looking at me like that!)
;
Thank you for the blow job today. It was very relaxing.
Anyway, back to the letter ...
You need to be here at 8:15 a.m. sharp tomorrow. Please meet with Mr. Greg Shapiro the manager in the mailroom located in the basement. He will dictate what you are to do over the course of the week.
I will stop here too because ... what ... is ... that! Why is the manager of the mailroom overseeing my week? I didn't interview to be his assistant only to wind up a mailroom clerk. At this point I keep reading those two lines over and over again believing I have gone temporarily insane. Finally giving up, I move on.
Head to HR to handle your paperwork. I like my coffee black.
Sincerely,
Mr. Henrik Payne
Vice President, Sales & Marketing at Mimir
That last line:
I like my coffee black
... okay? See, this is what I am talking about. Confusing, right? That's what I thought, so I take the elevator back upstairs to the twenty-eighth floor. I march over to Mr. Payne's office door, it’s closed, so I knock.
"Who is it?"
His deep voice rumbles through the door. I choose to be bold, not wait for permission to open the door, and march in demanding that he explain himself.
So I crack open the door just enough to pop my head through and say, "Mr. Payne?" In a voice so weak if I had strep throat he would have had a better chance at hearing me.
"Who are ... Ms. Drake?"
I open the door farther and step just inside, leaving the door ajar in case I need to bolt. So much for my boldness.
"Mr. Payne, I have a question with the letter you left me."
He groans and moves his attention back to his computer, clicking away with his mouse.
"It should be self-explanatory, Ms. Drake. You need to start work tomorrow at 8:15. What about that confuses you? You did just interview for the job did you not?"
My heart is pounding in my ears as I feel a bead of sweat slowly trickle down the side of my face. I am glad Mr. Payne isn't looking at me because now he can't witness a woman melting into a gooey mess of fear. I clear my throat before continuing, willing my voice to sound strong even if my body refuses to cooperate.
"Yes, I interviewed to be your assistant, not a mailroom clerk."
He stills mid type. I watch as his fists clench and he carefully swivels his chair to face me. My mind is screaming at me right now. She's telling me,
Why did you poke that hornets' nest with a stick?
"Ms. Drake. I am not in the habit of explaining my orders to anyone, least of all my assistant. But, if you must insist on harassing me I will explain a few things, so you can leave me in peace. I have rules, for myself, and anyone who works for me. The number one rule is know this company from the ground up. In order to understand this business and the people who run it, you will have to get to know them and what they do. So, each week I will have you working in a different department until I feel you understand enough to assist me in helping it function. Are we clear?"
I nod my head as my voice has long since packed her bags and left the building. Traitor!
"Now leave before I regret my decision in hiring you. Oh, and everything in that letter is a part of your duties for this week, even getting my coffee in the morning. I arrive by eight thirty and expect it then. Goodbye, Ms. Drake."
I clear my throat and bribe my voice to return with thoughts of warm tea.
"Thank you, Mr. Payne."
I leave, closing the door behind me. I take two steps and collapse to the ground. My body giving out from the stress of the day with the dueling feelings of joy and fear racking my insides. I sit on the gray carpet looking at the wool pills in the floor trying to gather my thoughts when I hear a different male voice from above.
"Are you all right? Here let me help you."
I look up to see a man who could easily pass for a Nordic god if he wasn't wearing a navy suit with a red tie. It’s as if Thor met Brad Pitt, defied the laws of reality and biology, had a three way with David Beckham which then produced the man reaching down for me. I stare at his hand unable to handle two hot men in suits in one day. Is it a requirement that all the male employees be studly? If so, thank God I got this job!
Regaining my senses I take his hand and come to standing.
"Thank you. I just tripped on the carpet." I lie trying to save face.
The Thor/Pitt/Beckham love sandwich chuckles and gives me the sweetest, heart arresting smile.
"I keep telling my brother to replace the carpets, but it's the one area he is cheap about. Oh, and the coffee here is crap, he's cheap with that too."
"So ... so ... you're Mr. Jacob Mimir's brother?"
He holds out a hand for me to take.
"Yes, Edgar Mimir, at your service m'lady. And I don't think I have had the pleasure of being introduced?"
He takes my hand, and gives a light tip while bowing in jest. I stutter my responses in shock by the day’s events, first the job and the boss attached to the job and now meeting the owner of the company's brother.
"I'm ... I, uh ... I mean I'm Morgana Drake, Mr. Payne's new assistant."
He winces after I say Mr. Payne's name and sucks in a breath.
"Oh ... No!" The gorgeous one exclaims.
Edgar's mouth is wide open as his eyes stay fixed on me. Perhaps he's having a stroke as he hasn't moved for about a minute now, just staring. I wave my hand in front of his face, which seems to snap him out of his catatonic state.
"I'm sorry. No one should have to suffer with the Payne. Well, to apologize for my sex and for this company for making you have to work daily with the Payne, I must take you out to lunch. And don't think of saying no because then I will be forced to stalk you until you agree. I don't know if you will like being woken up in the middle of the night with rocks being thrown at your window."
I relax a bit and laugh, finally something good without fear being attached to it. Nodding my head with a smile, glad I have already made a friend at the company who happens to be pretty eye candy.
I sigh ... so pretty.
Edgar takes me to a little French restaurant around the corner that makes crepes. I have only ever had sweet crepes, but they serve savory ones too. I learn a valuable lesson at that restaurant; crepes are a necessary part of the four food groups. Well, my four food groups: Cake, Wine, Chocolate and now Crepes. Nutrition is nothing to laugh at!
At lunch Edgar informs me of the ups and downs and ins and outs of the company while his eyes attach themselves to every attractive woman in range. He is nice and funny, but I have the feeling he likes the ladies a lot.
Edgar tells me how he's known Mr. Payne since college. They were roommates at Northwestern. Edgar explains Mr. Payne wasn't always the Payne; he used to be a fun if not slightly nerdy guy.
His exact words, "Henrik was a bit of a nerd. Always playing video games and constantly quoting comedy movies. Right after we graduated my brother created this company. Since I majored in computer science he asked me to help bring the company on-line to the masses. I brought Henrik with me and he talked himself into every investor's office you could imagine. The man can sell bottled water to a drowning person. Then something happened in Henrik's personal life a few years later and he morphed into the terrible Payne he is today."
I wondered what happened that changed Mr. Payne so drastically. Just to let everyone know, I'm a nosy person. I know it's none of my business and I should let sleeping dogs lie and curiosity killed the cat BUT I'm not a dog or cat so that really doesn't apply to me! Now I feel it's my mission to find out what makes Henrik Payne, aka my boss, aka the Payne, aka Paynefully Sexy (Like that one? I thought it was quite clever if I do say so myself.), aka riddle wrapped in a mystery inside an enigma to be slowly undressed by me (eyebrows move up and down in a seductive manner), tick.
My thoughts are still on figuring Mr. Payne out mind and body when I realize Edgar has brought me back to the office and deposits me in front of the HR door. I thank him for lunch and head inside.
"Well, well, well, you chose to stay and work for the devil. I respect a woman who faces her worst nightmare and lives to tell about it."
I search the room for the female voice and find it coming from a desk to my left. It's the blonde who gave me the envelope of confusion earlier today. Looking at the nameplate on her desk, her name is Evaleen Bechmann. I chant the name so I remember it this time: Evaleen Bechmann! Evaleen Bechmann, Evaleen Bechmann!
"Yes, Ms. Drake that is my name."
Oops, I must have said it out loud.
"Mr. Payne sent me here to fill out paperwork. I start tomorrow."
She gives me her sympathetic smile again and tells me to have a seat, motioning to the chair in front of her desk.
"Got it right here."
I walk over and sit as she places the large yellow envelope on her desk in front of me with a thud.
"Wow, that's a thick envelope. I guess the employee manual and other company manuals are in there too?"
Her finger shoots into the air, her face awash with revelation.
"Oh, almost forgot. Thanks for reminding me. Here are the manuals. The envelope is just the paperwork."
Evaleen gets up, after pulling three large books from her desk, and walks over to me placing them in my lap. They must weigh fifteen pounds at least.
As she walks back to her seat she waves me off.
"Just bring the paperwork back tomorrow."
I struggle to get up and lug my heavy items with me, but she stops me just as I reach the door.
"Oh, Ms. Drake, did Mr. Payne mention to you about the incident?"
Oh no! How did he find out?