What Stays in Vegas (5 page)

“Enough of this," I said, getting up from the bench and heading in the direction of Juicy Couture.  "It's time to shop!”  An elderly woman glanced over at me like I was nuts, but I didn’t care.  Besides, who was the one wearing a windbreaker and a fanny pack in one of the ritziest shopping malls in Las Vegas?  Not me, old woman.  Not me.

Yes, retail therapy was what I needed to get my mind off of my sorry excuse for a love life.  There was no room for sad faces in a mall like this. 

I stood looking up at the giant wall of reflective glass, tilting my head back as far as it could go to see to the very top of 1414 Howard Hughes Parkway.  Palm trees lined the walkway leading into the home of Flamhauser-Geist's Las Vegas branch, which occupied three levels of this gorgeous architectural monstrosity.  Nothing was visible through the windows.  No desks, no photocopiers, no conference rooms full of stressed out engineers.  All that could be seen from the outside of the building was the reflection of palm trees swaying peacefully in the breeze, as if the inside did not exist.  I caught my own reflection in the first floor windows, staring up in awe like an uncouth hillbilly, but for the moment I didn’t care.  They don’t often make buildings like this back home, and when they do they certainly don’t reflect palm trees and sunshine.  Working behind that glass, it seemed, could be nothing less than magnificent.  I was lucky to be able to walk down this pathway each day, to pass by sand and cactus, and never catch a reflection of myself looking bedraggled and miserable from the rain or snow.

I smoothed out the new outfit that I’d bought during my shopping trip on Sunday - sky blue blouse, black skirt, zebra print heels.  One paycheck down, six to go.  Hey, first impressions are important, right?  And to my delight, my sunburn had developed into quite a nice little tan.  I was looking good and feeling ready to take on the role of Administrative Assistant to not only the manager of this branch, but also the daughter of Mr. Sean Flamhauser.  This was a man who had grown up in the slums of Boston, graduated in the top of his class at Northeastern University, and became co-founder of one of the most respected civil engineering firms in the country.  I felt every bit the hot shot as I walked through the front doors and immediately tripped over the carpet.

“Ouch!”  said the girl at the front desk, looking up from her computer.  “Are you okay?”

“Awesome,”  I said, laughing at myself, and smoothing out my outfit for the second time. “Now that you think I'm a complete moron, can you please tell me where to find Flamhauser-Geist?”

She pointed to a bank of elevators.  “They’re on floors 30, 31, and 32.  The manager, Ms. Stoltz, her office is on the 32nd.  Once you're up there the receptionist, Roberta Mallard, will be able to help you."  She looked me up and down, probably trying to figure out if I worked for The Jiggly Kitty.  “Are you a client?”

“No, I’m actually Kendra, um, Ms. Stoltz's, new assistant.  They shipped me out here from Massachusetts.”

Her face changed slightly at the mention of the name Kendra, halfway between a sneer and something I couldn’t quite identify. 

“Oh, that’s right.  Marisa left to have her baby.”  She tucked a blonde curl behind her ear.  “That girl was
huge
, you should have seen her.  When I have kids I am not
going to let myself get like that.  No way.  I mean she had literally turned into a whale.”

“Literally into a whale?” I asked.  “That must have been a sight.”  I wasn’t quite sure how or why the conversation had turned to how fat Kendra’s last assistant was, but I just smiled politely and let her continue.

“A total whale,” she said.  “So you’re in for an interesting time.  Let me give you a few pieces of advice straight off.  If you ever need a ladies room with some privacy, use the fifth floor because those offices are unoccupied.  Just don’t let anybody see you because they’ll know you had to go number two.  Second, Roberta is a moron.  If you need anything, don’t go to her.  Come to me.  I don’t work for your company, but I know more about it than she does.  Third, there’s a Fed Ex guy named Fitz, or Fartz, I don’t really know which.  But he does this thing where he pretends to drop a package so girls in the building will bend over to pick it up for him.  Avoid him at all costs.”

Boy could she talk.  It was as if I was the first person to walk through those doors in ten years.

“I’ll keep those things in mind,” I said.  “Thanks.”

“I try to learn as much as I can about the people in this building.  I talk to
everybody. 
I would say I spend ninety percent of my day talking to people.”

“Wow, really?  Ninety percent?”

“Between eighty and ninety.  There’s not much else to do down here.  Oh, one last thing.  Ms. Stoltz’s husband is some kind of power hungry pervert.  He works here too, and he always comes down to ask me to do things for him.” 

The phone on the reception desk had been ringing for the last twenty seconds, but she ignored it. 

“Like I said, I don’t even work for your company, but he doesn’t care.  I think he actually feels like he can get away with sexual harassment because of that.  I mean one time,”  she leaned in closer to me, “he insisted on helping me move some boxes that I totally didn’t need any help with.  When he asked me where I wanted them I said ‘anywhere,’ and he goes ‘good because I’ll put it anywhere you want it.” 

“Gross!” I said, crinkling my nose.  But that sounded about right.  The same guy who had asked me to play Twister at the Christmas party had quite the reputation around the office as well.

“Exactly.  So beware. Marisa used to avoid him like the plague.”  She rolled over to grab something off the printer. “My name’s Charlene, by the way.” 

“Tessa.”  I smiled and shook her hand.  The hand shake caused Charlene to stop talking for about three seconds, and I jumped at the opportunity to excuse myself.  I thanked her again for all her helpful, though somewhat disturbing, information, and watched myself walk toward the shiny golden elevators doors.  Everything in this building was highly reflective.  I came out on the 32nd floor across from a set of heavy glass doors outlined in cherry trim.  Gold lettering above the door frame read
Flamhauser-Geist
and I had the weird sensation of being in an alternate universe.

I pulled open the door and immediately recognized Kendra standing by the reception desk, apparently awaiting my arrival.  She looked different from the last time I’d seen her, without her gown and her diamonds, but she was still one of the most beautiful people I have ever met.  Her long blonde hair fell in waves that my own hair could only dream about.  Where her clingy black sweater dress ended, knee high leather boots took over.  Miles of gold chains coiled themselves around her neck.  Her makeup looked professionally done, though I knew that was impossible on a Monday morning.  She was simply Engineering Barbie in the flesh.  The older woman seated at the desk next to her, who I took to be the useless Roberta Mallard, looked annoyed.

“Tessa!”  Kendra greeted me with such familiarity and enthusiasm that I almost turned to check if her long lost friend Tessa had walked in behind me.

“Kendra!”  I held out my hand for a shake, but she instead pulled me in for a hug.  She even smelled expensive.

“Thank you
so
much for coming!  How’s the car?  And the hotel?  Did you find the office okay?”  It was hard to keep track of all the questions.  It seemed that everybody in the building talked a mile a minute.

“Yes, thank you!” I said.  “Everything is unbelievable.  You really shouldn’t have given me all those things.  I'm totally spoiled.”

“Oh please!  It was a huge deal for you to pack up and come out here like this.  It’s the
least
I could do.”  She turned to Roberta, who was looking more annoyed by the minute. “Roberta, I’d like you to meet my new assistant, Tessa.  Tessa, this is Roberta, our receptionist.” 

“Nice to meet you,” said Roberta, giving me the once-over.  I wonder if women honestly think you don’t notice when they do that.  She stared at my boobs for at least five seconds before moving down to check out the size of my waist.  Donna Spang may have met her match.

“You too,” I said, giving her the once-over right back.  She looked to be in her mid-forties, and thin as a rail, which is not always a good look for somebody her age.  Boobs?  No where to be found.

“Aren’t you a tiny little thing,” she said.  “Do you eat?”

“Excuse me?”

“You’re so thin.  I myself never have much of an appetite."  She motioned to an uneaten apple on her desk.

“I eat a lot, actually,” I said.  I gave Kendra a confused look.

“I don’t think Tessa wants to discuss this right now, Roberta,” said Kendra, rolling her eyes.  “Come on, I’ll show you to your desk.”

“What’s with her?” I asked as we headed across the office.  We passed cubicle after cubicle but showed no signs of slowing down.

“Oh, she’s just weight obsessed,” said Kendra.  “The woman prides herself on eating nothing but raisins and lettuce.  We all figure she goes home every night and gorges on Doritos.  You should have heard her talk about Marisa after she gained all that pregnancy weight.  Pure disgust.”

“You know that's the second time in about fifteen minutes that somebody has mentioned Marisa’s weight?” I smiled back at a couple of cute guys who were talking next to a water cooler .

“That’s because we have more than a few busybodies in this building.  But you’ll grow to love them.” 

“Yeah, we had busybodies back in Massachusetts too,” I said.  “But the love thing never really happened.”

We finally arrived  at the opposite end of the building where a plaque that read “Kendra Stoltz” was fastened to the door of the corner office.  On the door of the office directly next to it was a plaque taped over with a piece of paper that read “Tessa Golden.”  Yes, that’s right, an
office.
  My office.  

“Home sweet home,” said Kendra, stepping in ahead of me.  An expanse of windows lined the wall in front of us, and I gasped at the view of the city that I had from the 32nd story.  How on
earth would I ever be able to work?  I peeled myself away from the windows long enough to soak in the rest of my surroundings.  Everything was either white, black, or lilac, and everything was new.  I could not see so much as an outdated paperclip.  The flat panel monitor on the desk was one of the most impressive features, as back home my monitor is about three feet deep and I am physically incapable of lifting it.  This was turning out to be an alternate universe indeed.  Lilac shag carpeting covered the floor beneath a huge white leather desk chair.  I sat down and spun around a couple of times.  A fish tank stood to the right of the door, filled with exotic looking fish and lilac colored gravel.

“Holy shit,” I said.  I looked up at Kendra and shook my head.  “Do you have any idea what my other office is like?  Wait, let me rephrase that.  Do you have any idea what my
cubicle
was like?”

“That’s the beauty of working for me
.
  I treat my employees the way I would want to be treated.”  She picked a remote control up off the bookshelves and pushed a button.  Classical music began playing from speakers positioned around the room.  “And I wouldn’t expect anything less than the best.”   She watched for my reaction and snorted when I mouthed the words “holy shit” again.  I couldn’t seem to think of anything else to say. 

“I guess Marisa was into classical,” she said.  “But you can play whatever you like.  I have a ton of CD’s if you want to borrow anything.”

“Yes, definitely.  Thank you!”  I said.  “Really, Kendra, I’m at a loss for words here.  I can’t even believe we work the way we do back in Massachusetts.  It’s like a prison camp compared to this.”

“Well, when you’re two degrees from the owner of the company, you reap the benefits.”  She shrugged and pulled open the door of a mini refrigerator to reveal a case of beer and several bottles of wine.  “For after hours.” 

“Nice,” I said.  “But I think I need to let all of this sink in before I’ll be ready for any after hours festivities.”

“Fair enough,” said Kendra.  “I’ll let you get settled.  Your email is all set up, and you have full internet access.  I know the fuddy-duddies in HR block certain websites, but that doesn’t apply here.”  She gave me a wink.  “Other than being way less crappy, we’re very similar to your old office in terms of the work we do.  It should be smooth sailing for you.” 

Kendra left me alone and headed back into her own office where she must have picked up another remote control, because I heard the muffled sounds of Eminem filtering through the wall.   

I smiled to myself as I scrolled through my email, finding it hard not to spin around and stare out the windows.  There weren't many emails to scroll through anyway, just a few office-wide ones from people I did not yet know, informing me that they were heading out on site visits to cities that I had never heard of.  Everything about my life was new and fresh, down to the very clothes that I was wearing. 

Ah, screw it.

I abandoned my email and rolled over to the window.  This was the change that I needed, I could feel it in my bones.  My tired, uninspired bones were slowly but surely coming back to life.  Maybe I would start working on my art again while I was out here.  Not just paperclip and pushpin art, but the kind of stuff that I did back in college.  I mean, sure I was in Las Vegas and there were plenty of things to distract me on the weekends, but in all honesty, who was I going to hang out with?  I was probably going to be spending a lot of time alone in my hotel room, and if I ever wanted to dig myself out of this secretarial hole, now would be the perfect
time to get started.