Authors: Michele Reed
A gift from me to you. Wear this for your meeting with Mr. O’Brian. I apologize that I will not be working tomorrow when you arrive. I’m leaving for a well-deserved extended vacation. Do not let Miss Lawrence bully you - she can be a real brute. And don’t tell her I said that!
-Lillian
Mercedes found herself grinning. She was disappointed that she would not be meeting this Lillian Harris woman. Mercedes quickly showered and dried her hair, even taking the time to braid it back so as to look as professional as possible though she still was not sure exactly what it was she was getting ready for. She found a pair of black heals that matched the suit. She hardly recognized the woman in the mirror staring back at her. “Wow,” she gawked. The jacket was a bit too small, her pants a bit too big, but overall she looked better than she ever had before. Quickly she headed down the two flights of stairs. The cab was waiting out front for her to take her to Manhattan.
The cab driver smiled when he saw her, “Miss Mercado?” he said in a thick, Russian accent.
“That’s me,” she said and he kindly opened the back door for her.
Mercedes smiled and thanked him. They began the long route towards Lexington Avenue. Mercedes was becoming a bit anxious. Her mind played through a thousand different scenarios as to what this O’Brian character could possibly want with her.
Maybe Tito was right
, she pondered,
maybe it does have something to do with my school?
She had impressed her professors at the university, but she had never finished her degree. That seemed like far too simple of an explanation, though.
After the long haul, the cab at last pulled up in front of the Chrysler Building. Mercedes started to look for some cash to tip the driver with, but he stopped her, “No, no. You no give me any money. I been paid very well to drive you; you no need give me any money.”
Mercedes blushed, “Thank you.”
The driver jumped out of the vehicle and hurried around to open the door for her. Mercedes certainly was not used to this kind of treatment; he even offered a hand to help her out of the cab. She thanked him again. He smiled ear to ear before giving her his personal card. “You call me anytime, Miss Mercado- I come get you if you need.”
Mercedes smiled, “What is your name?”
“Yury,” he said embarrassingly, surprised she had wanted to know his name. The man seemed very kind hearted; there was something about the cab driver that she instantly liked.
“Well, thank you, Yury. You’ve been very kind,” she said and took his card, placing it inside her wallet before walking up towards the enormous building. “Wow,” she said, finding herself staring straight up. The building was clad in white and grayish brick; steel gargoyles depicting American eagles overlooked the city from near the top of the skyscraper. It was quite a sight to take in. She could hardly believe she had never been there before- if anything the building was worth a visit just to stare up at it and admire the architecture. She entered into the building and was equally blown away by the interior design as she had been by the architecture. The entrance lobby was three stories high and triangular with three separate entrances. It was well decorated with Red Moroccan marble walls and beautiful blue marble floors. The ceiling murals distracted her for a moment before she snapped herself back into reality.
She found the nearest elevator and began her ascent to the twenty sixth floor. When at last the elevator doors opened, she entered into a large room decorated with large black and white photographs of construction projects; enormous, bright chandeliers hung from the tall ceilings; and on the far side of the large room were two adjoining desks, one of which was occupied by a petite woman with fiery red hair. On the woman’s desk was a nameplate that read
Elisabeth Lawrence.
It seemed that she had come to the right place.
Mercedes’ shoes clapped against the marble flooring as she headed up to the woman’s desk. “Excuse me-” she began, but the woman rudely held her hand up as she was on the phone.
Mercedes frowned and remained standing. She glanced over at the empty desk where a nameplate read
Lillian Harris
. She smiled, silently thanking the absent woman for the suit she had delivered. After a moment the rude woman, Miss Lawrence, hung up the phone and looked at Mercedes. Mercedes could tell that the woman read right through her and probably instantly noticed that her suit did not fit her quite right and so it was likely not hers. “Can I help you?” the woman sneered.
“I’m here to see Mr. O’Brian,” Mercedes said.
The woman huffed, “Mr. O’Brian does not take walk-ins, sweetie.” She turned her gaze away from Mercedes and began to type on her computer. “You’re going to have to leave.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” Mercedes retorted.
Miss Lawrence glared up at her; Mercedes relished the fact that the woman had accidentally gotten lipstick on her teeth. “He has a meeting scheduled for today that is coming up very soon so he can’t see you. Do you want me to call security?”
Mercedes resisted reaching a cross the desk to yank on the woman’s fake, red hair. “That meeting is for me,” Mercedes said, “I’m supposed to be meeting him at noon.”
Miss Lawrence looked her up and down, judging her clothes and her hair and anything else she could about her in the few seconds she spared to look her over, and then she laughed loudly, “You expect me to believe that?”
“You want me to strangle you or something?” Mercedes hissed, losing patience with the woman’s judgmental attitude, “I’m telling you I have a meeting scheduled with Mr. O’Brian. Mercedes Mercado- check your books.”
Miss Lawrence laughed, “What kind of name is that?”
“I swear! I’m going to knock you in your-”
“Excuse me?” interrupted a voice from behind.
Mercedes spun around and was surprised at what she saw. It was the idiot construction worker from the day before: the tall man with the pretty eyes, goofy smile, and nice arms. She squirmed. “You must be joking!” Mercedes groaned. It was a meeting of baboons in that lobby.
“Well hello there,” the man said coyly. He was dressed nice today, it seemed. Mercedes assumed he had a meeting to get to as well, although he had not bothered to put on a suit. He wore black dress pants and shiny black shoes with a blue button-up and a blue tie. “Good to see you again,” he teased, obviously noticing her dissatisfaction in running into him again.
“This woman thinks she has a meeting to get to,” Miss Lawrence said.
The way Miss Lawrence spoke to the man was with a hint of familiarity. Mercedes suddenly realized where she had seen the insignia of the letter before. She grunted, it had been on a construction sign at the worksite she had been at just the day before. This idiot standing before her worked here. “Oh God,” Mercedes grunted, “Would you shut up?” she glared back at Miss Lawrence, her hateful stare then returned to the man with the goofy smile, “When I finally meet this high and mighty Mr. O’Brian, I’m going to tell him he needs to fire you two idiots.”
Miss Lawrence suddenly let out a loud cackle. The man laughed too and then pushed by Mercedes. He looked at Miss Lawrence and said, “Liz, cancel my one o’clock. Something tells me my meeting with Miss Mercedes might run a little long.” He then walked past the desk towards the double doors on the far wall.
Miss Lawrence smiled, “Yes, Mr. O’Brian, of course.” She was giggling like a little girl. She looked at Mercedes. “Miss Mercado, is it? Yes, well, Mr. O’Brian will evidently see you now.”
Mercedes’ face turned red; the idiot construction guy was Mr. O’Brian, and she had made quite an ass of herself out in his lobby. “Are you coming, Miss Mercedes?” he asked from the doorway.
“Do go on,” Miss Lawrence said under her breath to Mercedes, “You don’t want to keep Mr. O’Brian waiting, do you?”
“You have lipstick on your teeth,” Mercedes grumbled as she walked by the desk, smiling slightly to see Miss Lawrence rushing to retrieve a small mirror from her pocket, clearly distressed to learn she had had lipstick on her teeth all morning. Mercedes hoped she had had to talk to a lot of people already that morning and that every one of them had noticed the red smear on her pretty white teeth. Mercedes had a knack for making terrible first impressions. She blamed it on her inability to put up with people’s general attitudes.
Mr. O’Brian held the door for her. Mercedes felt her cheeks growing warm; she could not believe how embarrassed she felt for the misunderstanding. The large, double doors closed behind them as they entered into a large office space. Men and women sat in cubicles, staring at computer screens. Many eagerly said hello as they passed by, all wanting to tell their boss good day.
Well he sure is popular,
Mercedes thought as they turned down a lusciously decorated hallway. At the end of the hall was a large door which he graciously opened for her. Inside, Mercedes gawked at the most impressive office space she had ever seen.
To her right was essentially a small kitchen that one had to step up into, complete with grayish tile flooring and the latest appliance commodities. To her left were enormous bookshelves that reached to the top of the tall ceilings, an old-timey rolling library ladder allowed for access of the books off the highest shelf. Between the large book cases was a full bar. In front of the bar were black, leather couches and a darkly stained oak coffee table. Straight ahead was the boss-man’s enormous desk, complete with two desktop computers as well as a laptop. The desk matched the oak coffee table with a spinning chair that sat behind the desk. Mercedes could imagine sitting in that chair and turning around to face the enormous windows that showed off the most amazing city view she had ever laid eyes on.
“Have a seat,” Mr. O’Brian told her, pointing at the two empty chairs in front of his desk, “What’s your poison?” he asked while heading over to the bar.
“Whiskey, but not today, please. Water maybe?” she asked.
“No problem. It’s a bit early for drinks, isn’t it? Honestly I’ve been so up and down lately I can’t keep track of the time,” he said. Pitcher of ice water was already sitting out for him on top of the bar so he poured the water into a champagne glass and brought it over to her just as she was finally sitting down in front of his desk.
Mercedes took the glass, staring at the floating cucumber slice that was resting inside. She took a sip and then set it down on his desk.
Apparently rich assholes are too good for tap water,
she thought and then quickly brushed the thought away, and reminding herself that she had been the one who had been rude only moments before, not him. He had actually been quite friendly towards her thus far. He walked around and sat himself down at the desk, smiling at her with a mocking atmosphere about him. “I guess I owe you an apology,” Mercedes said, thinking about the way she had berated him in the hall. “Listen, I-”
He held up his hand, “No need.” He leaned back in his chair; he was staring at her, as though he was attempting to get a good sense as to what she was all about- like he believed she had some sort of secret that he could discover through careful observation and study. He was almost giddy, well aware he had the upper hand in whatever conversation was about to take place, “I want to talk to you about yesterday,” he began.
She blushed, thinking about how she had argued with him in front of his employees. “So are you, like, the CEO of this company or something?”
“That’s me,” he said.
Mercedes crossed her legs and felt herself sinking. How was she supposed to know that some guy in a hard hat was the CEO of a major construction firm? “I’m really sorry-”
“Don’t be.” He grinned. “I was actually really impressed. Not just at your knowledge, but your forwardness was a bit intriguing to be honest.”
“Knowledge?” Mercedes laughed and decided the man was acting light-hearted enough that she could tease him a bit, “Anyone with half a brain could have pointed something so basic out. It just didn’t look right, is all.”
He laughed again. “You are one modest girl.” Mercedes found herself blushing like a young girl when the man leaned forward and propped his elbows up on his desk, his bright blue eyes staring straight into her.
“Um…Mr. O’Brian-” she started to say.
“No, no. Please, my name’s Kerry. Please call me Kerry,” he said.
“Kerry,” she said, storing the name in her mind.
“You know what I found out after you left the construction site yesterday?” he chuckled, “The foreman, that idiot who ran over and started yelling at my men? Well, he apparently had been watching the whole thing unfold for some time. He was too afraid to come over and tell me that I was wrong. It wasn’t until you got me away from the men and was yelling at me that he managed to work up enough courage to yell at the others about what they were doing. He was going to let us waste all of that material and wait until I was off site before correcting the problem. Isn’t that the most insane thing you ever heard?” Kerry shook his head and leaned back in his chair, the light from the large windows shined on his milky white skin.