Paparazzi

Sitting in Matt Salmon’s office was like sitting in a time capsule. Lined along the sides of the walls were retro eighties arcade games, a few pinball machines tossed in between for good measure. There was even a small plastic hoop hanging above the trash can. Towards the back was his big oak work desk, which held a computer (at least I think it was) whose screen was as big as a plasma television. Sleek modern chairs were what his visitors sank into when they were called in. I sat nervously on the edge of mine, drinking in his office furnishings with wide eyes.

To make matters worse, Nate was standing behind the closed door, talking to him about me (I know, it’s pretentious to assume, but why else would he be there?). I didn’t want him to come. I did all that I could physically do – besides cling to his leg and weigh him down, so that he wouldn’t come up the elevator with me. Daphne was drinking it in with a slight smirk when we passed the front desk. She thought I was getting fired. I thought so, too, but when Matt came in after his talk with Nate, he seemed relatively calm. He didn’t seem like a man who was going to let off a member of staff – unless he was the type of guy who was so used to firing people that it was as easy as breathing.

Still, I remained tightly wound, edging closer off the chair as if I might spring off of it.

“So Nate’s your guy, huh?” Matt asked, before he had even slid into his chair. A smile and a laugh were still in his eyes as he regarded me.

“Well,” I pulled at the edges of my skirt, “I guess he would be. . .I mean, uh. Yes.”

Matt laughed again, this time easing into his chair. He flopped back into it, pulling his fingers together like Mr. Burns. “Would you like a drink? Wine? Espresso?”

“No thanks,” I smiled, twisting at my skirt even more. “I’m fine.”

He smiled back, and took his time to sift through a pile of papers on his desk. I could feel my body tightening as if it were coil. My fingers twisted and pulled at the cloth, the skin burned where I ravaged the garment.

Twist, twist, twist.

All I could hear was him sorting through the individual pieces of paper.

“How’s the front desk going? They treating you well down there?”

I nodded hastily. Twist, twist, twist.

“That’s good,” He nodded, his pale grey eyes staring right at me, “that’s good.”

I smiled again.

“So, I hear good things about you, real good things.”

“You do?”

“Yes, we do!” His smile stretched unnaturally over his lips. At that moment, all that I could think of was if he were an animal, he’d be some type of slinking predator – toying with his prey. Guess who was the prey? “I wanted to reward you for your good work. Clients come in all the time and talk about the little brunette bombshell sitting behind the desk. So charming and bright. Just what we here at FLASH want in an employee. You’re the first thing clients see – and they like what they see.”

So I wasn’t getting fired. I uncoiled a little bit, but remained wary. If I’ve learned anything from life, it’s that people aren’t always what they seem. Nothing ever really is.

“So,” He continued cheerfully, “in a few days, FLASH is holding a soiree. I’d very much like to see you there.”

“Oh,” I exhaled. A party? No prob. “Sure. I’d be honoured.”

The smile started to return, “Great! We’ll pay for your accommodations and flight, of course.”

“My flight?”

“Oh, yes, it’s a suit and tie event at the MGM.”

“MGM?” I stupidly echoed. There I went again. Twist, twist, twist.

“In Vegas, of course...” His eyebrows scrunched for a second, then suddenly smoothed out as a thought came to him. “Oh! Yes, how inconsiderate of me. You’ll be paid for the time you’ll be gone. It’s only fair, since we’re taking you away on such short notice.”

I imagined my brow shot up into my hairline then. “You’re paying me to go to Vegas and attend a FLASH party?”

“Exactly,” He beamed, then another thought popped into his head. This man’s physical language was all too easy to read. It couldn’t be any easier, unless a light bulb flashed above his shiny, balding head. He started rummaging around in a deep drawer in his desk.
“And I think this is only fair.”

His hand had hair on its knuckles. That hairy hand was sliding across the desk toward me, with a shiny piece of plastic gleaming underneath his thick fingers. By then, my eyebrows must have shot off of my face.

“It’s a pretty fancy party, and a pretty lady like you has to have a dress that lives up to its owner. Buy whatever you think you might need for the trip, and whatever extra. My treat – on the Flash account,” Then he let loose a loud chuckle, his face going red with the sudden outburst.

“A dress?” I let my fingers glide over the smooth plastic of the credit card sitting in front of me, begging me. No joke. This was all too good. Any moment, I expected him to say ‘Just kidding!’ and take it all back. My hand shot back into my lap.

Twist, twist, twist.

“It’s a dress up!” He chirped, “A homage to old school glamour. Everyone’s dressing as guys and gals from the fifties.”

“O-okay.” I stared at the card.

“Take it,” Matt urged. “As your sort’ve boss, I’m giving you an assignment: take the rest of the day off to go shop for what you need. Drop off the card to my assistant in the morning.”

“Are you sure?” I bit my lip. God knows, I didn’t have anything in my closet that remotely resembled the fifties.

“Am I sure?” He let out a sheepish noise, “As sure as sure can be. Now, you better get going otherwise you’ll fail this assignment.”

I nodded stiffly, and grudgingly pulled the credit card into my hands. He walked me out of the office, and even his secretary, Amelia, smiled warmly at me as I left for the elevator. I had to keep peeking between my fingers to make sure that the card didn’t materialise into thin air. I still couldn’t believe it.

“Pinch me, Nate,” I asked him from across the front reception. He gave me an odd look, rising from the stark white lounge pushed up against the matching white walls. It was absolutely silent except for the soft music playing on the overhead speakers. It was always turned to a top 40 hit countdown.

“I’m not going to pinch you,” He laughed. “Why would you even ask me to, anyway?”

“Because Matt Salmon asked me to go to Vegas, and I must obviously be dreaming. Why would I be asked to go to Vegas? And be paid to do it? And be given a company card to buy new clothes for Vegas?”

Nate opened his mouth to talk, but just as he did, I heard an impatient noise coming from the reception desk. Oh, right. Daphne. I knew something was up, my nose was burning with her sickly sweet scent, and yet all I could think of was the stupid card in my hand and going to Vegas.

I shot Nate an apologetic look and turned to walk my way over to the desk. “I’m going to take the afternoon off. Matt Salmon gave me an errand to run, and it’s going to take the rest of the day.”

Daphne’s lips disappeared until there was nothing more than a firm, white line. With minimal movement, she managed to hiss, “How very fortunate that Mr. Salmon himself gives you this errand while I pick up the slack back here. Don’t strain yourself too much doing it; you’re only going to come back to the desk anyway.”

I smiled brightly at her, knowing she was wrong. Behind her green eyes something was burning intensely, and my smile was only fuel for the fire. I found myself smiling a wider, brighter smile. "I'll see you tomorrow, then," I told her, and Nate and I walked from the building.

Once we were outside, he pulled his sunglasses on. His obsession with putting on/pulling off his sunglasses reminded me of David Caruso from CSI Miami. I stifled a giggle as he looked down at me.

"What? Is your blood sugar low, because I noticed you didn't eat anything at lunch," He leaned down to look at me with a concerned expression. I shook my head, and craned my neck so that my lips brushed his cheek, and then finally planted themselves on it. I could feel the muscles in his face move to accommodate his smile. "Are you sure?" He pulled away to look at me. He was playing doctor.

"Yes, I'm sure," I smiled at him.

"You're acting weird again," He told me, reluctantly.

I sighed, "Can we drive off now? Or am I going to spend the rest of my free day alone?"

"Matt let you take the day off?"

"Well, yeah, to go shopping."

"To go shopping?" He looked puzzled.

"It's work related," I assured him, nodding my head. My fingers slightly tightened around the credit card. "It's probably a long shot asking you to come with me."

"Why is that so, Miss Posh?"

"Well, you know how there's chairs in boutiques by the changerooms?"

"Hmm?"

"They're called boyfriend chairs. And for a reason. Boyfriends don't like shopping."

"So I'm your boyfriend now?"

For a split second, my heart broke. It really did. I could feel it faltering the moment his teasing voice had finished that blasted sentence.

And then it started up again when he pulled me into his arms and laughed into my hair, and told me how sad my expression had looked.

"Of course you're my girlfriend, and I'm your boyfriend, even though it's a ridiculous thing to call a grown man and woman that."

I laughed, too, and exhaled a breath of relief. As much as I could through the hug, anyway.

Today was a day of unexpected surprises. I could only hope the next few to come my way weren't bad ones, since today had been so unbelievably... well, good. That was bound to throw something off balance in the grand scheme of things, right? So much good couldn't be followed by even more of it. I'm sure of it.