Siren

Chapter Three

"SO WHERE ARE WE GOING TONIGHT?" Is my first question. Tammy laughs and shakes her head.

"Oh yes, you were here when I added you to the guest list." She smiles and clicks around on her computer, sidetracked. "There is a new celebrity hotspot opening downtown and you, darling, are VIP."

"Why me?"

"You're my insider." She winks and I am reminded of my Aunt Erin, always conspiring with me. Tammy is typing on her computer again, no doubt answering emails left and right. Every so often her computer will ding and Tammy will roll her eyes and mutter something under her breath.

"Anyway, we are going to go out to lunch and get you something to wear tonight. I actually have to buy a new pair of shoes as well," she scribbles something on a waiting sticky note. "This morning I would like you to start drafting your character. By the end of the day I want a completed first posting in my inbox to be edited."

"I am on it." I say, standing and grabbing my bag as I head to the office door. And then I remember, I don't yet have a desk. "Tammy? I don't have a desk."

"Oh right. I forgot to tell Steph. One second." She types on her computer, clicks a few buttons and stands with an air of elegance and authority I can only pray that I will one day possess. I follow her out of her office and pass two other office doors until she stops in front of one without a name embellished into the glass.

"Welcome home," she opens the glass door and urges me to step in. I look around at the plain interior. There is a large white desk and a white office chair; other than that, the space is completely empty. I look around, spinning on my heel, and try to calm my racing heart. No, this cannot be my office.

"This isn't..?"

"You're office." Tammy finishes the sentence for me, smiling like a proud mum. "I'll leave you to get acquainted." With that, she closes the door to the...my...office and heads back to her own.

I look around again, completely delirious. As I put my bag on top of the desk...my...desk, and look out the large floor to ceiling windows on the back wall I can't help but wonder: what's the catch?

Three hours later, I feel somewhat comfortable with the fact that I have my own office and I have managed to convey my 22 year old awkwardness in a 500 word synopsis. Noah on paper, however, wears Dolce and Gabbana. She has her own flat in the heart of London and carries a different designer bag each day to match her shoes. I love Noah on paper.

There is a soft knock on my glass door and I look up to see Steph peaking her head in as if I can't see her entire body.

"Ready for lunch?"

I hit save on my first draft, close my laptop and slip back into my heels before following Stephanie out to the lobby. From behind the receptionist desk, Steph grabs her bag and by the time we are hitting the button for the elevator, Tammy has joined us. She is on her phone however, talking a mile a minute about the prints for a photo shoot next week.

"How do you like your office?" Stephanie asks on the ride down.

"I can't believe it's mine." I say and can't wipe the smile that has taken over my entire face. I feel as though I haven't stopped smiling in the last 24 hours and I fear that my muscles are going to tense up at any moment.

"You'll get used to it." Stephanie promises me. I find myself wondering what Stephanie's goals are. She is obviously a trusted employee of Tammy's, I haven't seen her lean on anyone as much as she leans on Steph, but Steph is still just a receptionist. I make a mental note to talk to Steph about it at some point, when our boss isn't in hearing distance.

We step outside and of course, it's raining. I follow Steph and Tammy to a waiting black limousine and try to act like I climb into the back of a limo every afternoon. There is no need to give the driver directions, so we just sit back in silence as the rain adds background noise.

"It's really not that difficult to understand polka-dots." Tammy is annoyed as she hangs up the phone finally and throws the device into her clutch. "No I don't want stripes, I said polka-dots. Get your head out of your arse."

"I told you to let me handle that," Steph says.

"No you don't need to deal with people like that, you're to young and you don't have any grey hairs yet."

"Please, you don't have grey hair," I say without even thinking. Steph and Tammy both look at me for a second, Steph smiling like she's impressed.

"Don't let her fool you," Steph whispers as if Tammy can't hear us. "She dyes it every other Tuesday afternoon."

Tammy rolls her eyes at the two of us as we giggle and I catch her nodding with a slight smile. Was my unchecked comment one she approves of or should I learn to use a damn filter?

We done at a very high class restaurant on the top floor of a high rise. Tammy pays for all of it even when I beg to at least buy our drinks.

"You don't have your company card yet, don't be ridiculous." Tammy says. I do a double take. Company card? "What? You think I expect you to live the life of an A lister without the means to do so?"

"This is a lot to take in." I say honesty as we walk. Steph is on the opposite end of the limo, speaking in French to whoever we are meeting up with to decide on my outfit. When we pull up in front of A la Mode, I pinch myself to try and wake up from this dream.

It takes no more than an hour with the help of Tammy's good friend and designer, Isabella Fleur. I have never felt material like this. They say that you can fake high fashion, but the difference between my department store buys and my outfit for tonight is indescribable. How anyone into fashion can claim you can fake it, has no idea what they are talking about.

When we get back to the office, Stephanie is still talking about the shoes I am wearing tonight and Tammy is already answering emails as we all walk back to our rightful desks.

Before I head out the door at four, I have completed my first post; decided on the layout for my blog; received two options for how to wear my hair and makeup this evening; and did my research on the night club that is opening. As I take my seat on the bus, I close my eyes and rehash the events of my first full day. From beginning to end, it's something out of a fantasy for writers like me and my day isn't even over.