STUCK
Unstuck 0.5
By
Liliana Camarena
Copyright © 2015 by Liliana CamarenaAll rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
“Mr. Maynard.” Some girl that I obviously don’t know greets me at May, inc‘s front desk. I just nodded making a mental note to ask Brian why it seemed that every time I came to New York a new girl would be at the front desk.
“I need coffee” I said to Mike as we rode the elevator to the last floor where my office is located.
“What kind of coffee?” Mike asked. I shrugged. How was I supposed to know what kind of coffee I like? Monday couldn’t come any sooner. I was in serious need of an assistant.
“The one that Miranda makes,” I said looking forward but noticing from the corner of my eye that Mike nodded. I knew I’d just sent him on a quest of something semi-impossible but the truth is I needed my coffee to start my day and it seemed that Margaret , my New York housekeeper, didn’t know how to make coffee because there wasn’t any waiting for me this morning.
“Soon,” I said looking at Mike as the doors to the last floor opened and I walked towards my office. Everyone stared, waiting for me to close the door to the office so they could keep running like headless chickens around the office. I’m not that clueless; I know that I made them shit their pants by planning a surprise visit. Having no competent assistant, or any for that matter, forced me to leave the comfort of Philadelphia to check on the important details going on in New York.
I turned to the secretary sitting on the desk outside my office. She’d been here for a while because she was the one that was in touch with my personal and executive assistant, Harriet, but for the life of me I couldn’t remember her name. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to remember her name, or that I didn’t want to know what kind of coffee I like, it was just that being Patrick Maynard meant so much more than that. I had to take care of thousands of families, jobs were at risk, I couldn’t stop and worry about the kind of coffee I like; there’s only so much that my brain can take.
“Do you need anything, Mr. Maynard?” she asked
“Tell Sanders I need him in my office,” I said as I finally stepped in my office closing the door behind me. My eyes were closing; I really needed the damn coffee. What was taking Mike so long? Why didn’t I have a steamy cup of coffee in my hands? I shook my head and sat on my leather chair. I really needed to stop sleeping around on weekdays but it was the best antidote for stressful times.
Everything was alright with my life at the moment, ‘alright’ being the key word in my previous statement. I had a lot of lady friends that helped me get through the days and some nights, from what I’ve heard, read and interpreted from the way women looked at me, I wasn’t bad looking at all; work was going perfectly but still, it seemed that I was stuck in the same routine. I used to love routine, but lately it was all getting old, and I felt tired as hell.
I shook my head, got up from the chair and walked towards the floor to ceiling window and looked down at the street. Sleepless nights sure made me turn into a weird man.
“Mr. Maynard” I heard the girl’s voice coming from some kind of intercom on the desk. Brian had it installed so I wouldn’t shout out the girl’s name every time I needed something. I couldn’t shout out the girl’s name because I didn’t know the girl’s name.
“Sanders!!” I screamed as I opened the door and walked back to the desk not even waiting for him to show up in the door.
“Mr. Maynard, such a surprise to have you here,” a tiny, bald man with huge round glasses walked into the office and closed the door behind him.
“Surprise?” I said raising my eyebrows.
“A nice surprise,” he said. Kissing ass was his specialty.
“Sanders,” I motioned with my hand that he could take a seat. “I want to build new offices for the Publishing branch,” I said as I reached for my invisible coffee cup. “Just a second.” I said holding up my finger and texting Brian.
I don’t have coffee, I hit send.
What the hell am I supposed to do? He texted back.
I don’t give a fuck, I need coffee. DO SOMETHING. I was in serious need of coffee. I could kill Sanders if I didn’t have coffee soon.
On it. Asshole. Brian finally texted.
Brian was my best friend of 30 years. He got me and he was the only one allowed to talk me like that. He knew it; I knew it, and we took advantage of that.
“So…” I said looking up at Sanders, who was looking around in the office while I texted.
“New offices, sir,” said Sanders looking back at me.
“Yes,” I said and got up to pace around my office, “we need a new office building. I want the publishing branch to be more successful; I want authors to be drawn to the offices and I believe that the main building might intimidate them.” I said putting my hands in my pants pockets.
“We produce successful books, Mr. Maynard,” I nodded “Your brother’s books are quite successful.” I rolled my eyes. They weren’t. They were crap.
“I want more,” I said, and gave him my intimidating stare. I had one, and I used it whenever I felt like I wanted to make a point across.
“You’ll have more.” He said finally and I nodded.
“Good, get that going,” I said turning around to over look the city, “I’ll check on that project next week,” I said without looking back at him. I would send my assistant to do that. By Monday I would have an assistant for at least a week. I doubted she’d last longer than that. She seemed……. Timid, for lack of a better word.
I heard the door open and turned around to find Mike with a cup of coffee.
“Mr. Maynard,” he said looking sweaty and worried, “your coffee.” He said putting it on my desk.
“Thank you, Mike,” I said walking towards the desk; I was thankful it was a really big cup. “That’ll be all,” I dismissed him and sat back on my chair.
“Coffee,” I said and took a small sip realizing that I wasn’t drinking Miranda’s coffee, but desperate times call for desperate measures so I drank it.
Happy, asshole? I got a text from Brian and laughed out loud.
Not really, it’s the wrong kind, I texted back.
Fuck you, he texted back. I had to laugh at that.
“Mr. Maynard,” I head the girl’s voice, “It’s your mother on the phone.” I sighed, groaned and the pushed the damn button.
“Put her through,” I said. I didn’t have to put up with this kind of shit when I had an assistant, no matter how crappy or young she or he was, they would always at least take my mother’s call for me, and see if they could help her with anything.
“Mother,” I said picking up the receiver.
“Patrick, how are you, sweetheart?” I listen to her warm voice and I smiled.
“Well, not having an assistant is making my day increasingly more stressful,” I said, untying my tie a bit.
“I don’t see what was wrong with Aline, Patrick,” she was about to go on and on about how awful I was to my assistants.
“Mother, she quit,” I said giving a sip of the hideous coffee. “She couldn’t handle the pressure.” I shook my head.
“How can them? You treat them like dirt,” I laughed. They all knew what they were getting into, they just couldn’t handle it.
“Is there something I can do for you, Mother?” I asked .
“Not really,” she said wi
th a tone that let me see that she was done telling me what an awful boss I was, “I just wanted to remind you that we are having the gala next Friday.” I groaned inwards because I hated galas. They were my nemesis. I could hear my mother talking about every little gala-related thing but I wasn’t interested anymore.
Going to New York. I saw a text from Brian. I almost jumped up and down my chair because I knew that with Brian here I could go crazy with my needs since he did a pretty good job as an assistant. I’d joked around saying that I’d give him the job but he never found it funny. I surely did.
“So, is that ok?” I heard my mother asking me and I went back to the one sided conversation.
“Sure, mom,” I said having no idea to what I just agreed to.
“Wonderful!” Must have been something that made her happy, then. “I’ll see you on Friday, sweetheart.”
“Sure, mom, tell dad I said hello.” I hung up and decided to dive into some spreadsheets before Brian got to New York.
“Mr. Johnson is here,” I heard the girl say. I looked at my watch and realized that I had been almost two hours looking at the same spreadsheet and I wasn’t reaching a conclusion about the deal I wanted to offer to Stinson; buying him off his own