Maybe Later(32)

AWalk90: I’m your virtual, not personal assistant. Virtually, I gave you a big hand.

AWalk90: Who are you dating?

JSpear84: I forget you think you’re funny.

AWalk90: My best trait.





Chapter Fifteen





Jack


Saturday, April 30th, 8:27 a.m.



I never thought about having a favorite sound. I like music. Not as much as my assistant. Still, I enjoy a good tune. But today I realized there’s one sound I love more, and I can listen to for eternity. It’s a sexy voice, not too gravely but not shriek either. It’s just different from everything I’ve ever heard before.

It’s a sound that I like to hear over the phone every time I call her, and so far, I’ve called her seven times this past week. Six of them I was sent to voicemail. The seventh was the last time I was going to try her before I gave up on us. A man can only take so much rejection. That’s when she finally answered apologizing for not calling me back and explaining how busy she’d been at work.

“Sorry, it was a long week,” she said with a soft, sleepy voice.

I understood. I felt just the same. My week had been long and tiresome. There were too many emergencies and not enough time to solve everything by myself. I’m just thankful Amy was able to move around her schedule to concentrate on my company. I owe her a lot and when I say I owe her a lot, I mean financially. She sent me the bill. I’m paying her a freaking fortune.

I hope they pay her at least half of what they charged me for all the hours she worked this month. Or that she at least gets a nice bonus by the end of the year.

“Have you ever driven up to Aspen in the fall?” Emmeline asks, and I feel like shit for thinking about Amy while I’m with my date.

“Thank you for giving me a second chance. A voice message canceling our plans was an asshole move, but I was swamped,” I say. I’m trying to focus on the road even though I’m dying to look at her.

“Seriously, you shouldn’t worry about it,” she says lightly. “Like you, my week was hellish. One of my biggest clients was in deep trouble.”

“So, you saved the day.”

“Yeah, but I’m sure he wouldn’t recognize it as such. He has trouble accepting help or recognizing that he can’t do stuff by himself. Once everything was under control, he just said, “you did a good job, make sure to bill me all your hours.”

What a fucker? I think but say, “He didn’t thank you or give you some kind of recognition. For going above and beyond?”

“A thank you is all I get from him most of the time. At least now I get a heartfelt thank you,” she says and sighs. “If I sleep for a couple of weeks, I might recover.”

Knowing she isn’t treated well by some asshole, I continue asking her questions. “Just like that, he wouldn’t acknowledge that you just saved his ass?

“A couple of months ago I’d have told you he’s just an ungrateful asshole who thinks everyone should serve him. Now, I think he has a hard time asking for help and trusting others.”

Which I’m guessing is something Emmeline doesn’t understand. She must live in a world where the magic happens, and everyone is friendly with her. You can’t just trust everyone. Though, Amy makes me wonder if I’m doing it wrong. She mentioned early this week that I was lucky to have a great team to lean on. It was the first time I looked closely at my people and saw them as assets and not just employees.

“Do you always go above and beyond for your clients?”

“Sometimes,” she answers absently. “It all depends on the project.”

“What do you do?”

She sighs. “I own a company; it’s complicated to explain what I do.”.

“Legal advice?” I guess.

“I’m not a lawyer. Though, I can technically go through contracts and understand them since I interned for my parent’s legal firm from the age of sixteen,” she explains vividly. “When I was that age, I hated it, but now I see the benefits. At least when I receive a contract for review, I don’t only proof the typos, but I also can give input about the clauses.”

“Sounds like you’ve done it a few times.”

“It’s one of my trades,” she says. “Are you going to tell me what you do for a living?”

“It’s boring, I work for a software company,” I say vaguely. Is it lying not telling her that I own it, run it, and I acquire technology and patents by merging with smaller companies?

“What do you do for them?”

“Programming, but during my free time, I’m trying to create things for the future that will help us.”

“Like Artificial Intelligence?” she asks, a little annoyed.

“Not at all. But if anyone asked me, I’d say yes because it’s too complicated to explain.”

“No wonder your parents support you, you’re super smart and trying to build a better tomorrow. Maybe I should’ve chosen a profession like that. Not that my parents would care any one way or the other.”

I’m not sure what to do with that comment. It doesn’t sound bitter, just sad.

“Do you see them often?”

“My parents?” she asks, and I nod keeping my eyes on the road. “No, I haven’t seen them in years.”