Chapter 3
Abby
* * *
“Hi, can I get a coffee please?”
“You want milk and sugar?” the man inside the cart growled. If I hadn’t been desperate, I would have told him to forget about it and gone on my way.
“One second,” I said as I quickly looked at my phone.
“How many sugars?” he asked.
“Just a second. Sorry, I need to check to see if he wants milk and sugar.”
“Fine.” The man rolled his eyes and stood there staring at me impatiently. I looked to my left and to my right. There was literally no one else outside the cart. I didn’t know why he had such an attitude.
“I don’t suppose you happen to have croissants, do you?”
“Croissants?” he repeated blankly.
“I’m guessing that’s a no then.” If I didn’t love living in New York so much, I would definitely have moved already. New Yorkers were always in a bad mood.
“Okay, latte, steamed oat milk, no sugar, turmeric? I don’t suppose you have turmeric, do you?” I said as I read from the email.
“Croissants? No. Turmeric? No. Do you want sugar in your coffee or not?”
“Just the black coffee, please.” I chewed on my lower lip. “Shit. And do you have any pastries or anything?”
“We got bagels.”
“Okay, I’ll take a bagel toasted, butter on the side.”
“What type of bagel?”
“Plain, I guess?”
“Okay, one black coffee and one plain bagel toasted. That’ll be $5, please.”
“Here you go,” I said as I handed him my twenty. I had a feeling I wasn’t going to be seeing this $5 back. It wasn’t the coffee that Mr. McAllister wanted and it certainly wasn’t a croissant from one of the best bakeries in the city.
A moment later, the guy in the cart handed me the coffee and the bagel.
“Thanks,” I said, holding my hand out for the change. He handed me a ten and five singles. I stared at him for a few seconds and then gave him a dollar tip. He shook his head and sighed, but I ignored him and hurried on my way.
I didn’t have much time to get to the office now. I was going to have to take a taxi. Shit. I hadn’t even gotten my first paycheck yet and I was going to have to take a taxi. This sucked. I was lucky enough to hail a taxi right away and gave them the address to the office. As it sped off, my phone started ringing.
“Please don’t be Mr. McAllister. Please don’t be Mr. McAllister,” I muttered to myself as I looked at it. It was my mom. “Hey, Mom. I really can’t talk now.”
“I know, dear, but Dad and I just wanted to say congratulations and have an amazing first day,” my mom sang into the phone.
“Thanks, Mom. I appreciate it.”
“Hold on. Your dad wants to say something.”
“Mom, I—” But she didn’t listen to me.
“Abby.”
“Hi, Dad.”
“I just wanted to wish you luck on your first day. Remember, listen to whatever your boss says and do what he says and you’ll be up for a promotion soon.”
“I very much doubt it,” I whispered under my breath.
“Sorry, what did you say, dear?”
“Nothing, Dad. Will do.”
“I was looking at the company on the internet,” he continued.
“Oh, yeah?”
“And it’s a billion-dollar company. Did you know it’s in the Fortune 500?”
“I did, Dad.”
“They make a lot of money.”
“Yeah, Dad. But that doesn’t mean I’m going to make a lot of money.”
“You should ask your boss if you can get some shares in the company as part of your compensation.”
“I really don’t think so. HR didn’t mention anything about shares.”
“Well, tell them if they want you to stay, you need shares as well. They’ll most probably be worth double within a year. I was reading that—”
“Dad,” I cut him off, “I am a secretary. They really don’t care if I stay at the company or not. I’m lucky to have gotten this job in the first place, so I’m not going to be asking for shares. And I really have to go because we’re about to pull up outside the office and I really don’t want to be late.”
“Well, okay, dear. Your mother and I wish you the best of luck. Why don’t you come over this weekend for Sunday lunch?”
“I’m not sure I—”
“Abby, we haven’t seen you in a couple of weeks.”
“I know, Dad. Fine. I’ll try and come for Sunday lunch.”
“And bring your friends. We haven’t seen them either.”
“Okay, well, I’ll ask what they’re doing.”
“Okay. Love you.”
“Bye, Dad.” I hung up with a sigh and closed my eyes. They were going to be so disappointed if I lost the job within a couple of days, and it’s not like they would understand that my boss was a jerk.
My parents were old-fashioned. As far as they were concerned, the boss could do no wrong. I, as the employee, should do everything that he said. It didn’t matter if he was an asshole or a jerk. They would never see my side.
My parents had been married for 35 years and they were old school. My mom was originally from England and my dad was originally from Guyana, but he had immigrated to England when he was a young boy and they’d met in high school. They’d fallen in love, gone to college, and then immigrated to the United States in the ’80s. They were a truly successful love story, and they were the reason why I believed in happily ever afters. I’d never found my own happily ever after, but times were different now. It was harder to meet the one. I was patient, though. At least, I was trying to be patient, but I didn’t really have time to think about that now.
“That’s going to be $12, ma’am,” the cab driver said, and I realized we’d stopped.
“Oh, sorry. Thanks.” I handed him the rest of the change that I’d gotten from the bagel guy and he just stared at me. “You can keep the change.”
“Thanks,” he said, looking at the measly $2. What was it with New York service people? I mean, he’d only taken me a half-mile down the road. How much did he expect me to tip? There were so many rich people in New York who threw their money around that he was probably accustomed to twenty and one-hundred-dollar tips for barely anything. But I didn’t have time to worry about that now.
I jumped out of the cab and looked at the building. It was beautiful. It was a tall building, though not as tall as some of the skyscrapers in the city, but it was classic New York architecture. There was a doorman standing outside, and I noticed the gold sign to the right of the door that said McAllister Corporation.
Talk about vain. Who named a company after themselves? I mean, obviously, lots of people named companies after themselves, but I didn’t care about them right now. I only cared about Dylan McAllister, and I knew that this was going to be a very, very long day. I hurried up to the door and smiled at the doorman. He opened it.
“Morning, ma’am.”