Addie Combo (2 page)

It’s
just the first day,
I tell myself.
You didn’t think you were gonna walk into a job on your first day,
did you? This could take weeks or even months.
Months?
By now I’ m ready to punch myself in the mouth.
Why didn’t you tell me?
I did. But you just had to get out of Colorado, genius.
I take a deep breath. It’s summer in Los Angeles, and it’s warmer than I thought it’d be. It
gets fairly warm in Boulder, but it’s a different kind of heat. Now my shirt sticks to my back,
my stockings are itchy on my legs (which of course I just have to tolerate unless I want ripped
up, running stockings). Even my hairdo (piled up in a very conservative but slightly sexy way,
with ringlets that fall over the sides of my face) is coming undone.
But I press on for the rest of the day, somewhat proud to hit four more leads before finally
calling it a day around three-thirty in the afternoon. Sitting on the bus ride home, I get a call on
my cell from SalesPace to come in for an interview.
Ha ha!
I chide my skeptical self.
Callback for an interview! Now who’s the dummy and
who’s the genius? Now who made the right decision?
Okay, okay,
I answer back in the echo of my imagination,
don’t get carried away, Martha
Stewart. It’s just a callback, it doesn’t mean that much.
I hate how I can be so realistic sometimes, but I guess it’s a blessing as long as I don’t ignore
it (which I try to do as often as I can). This time, I answer with,
It’s better than nothing!

Ignoring my own grating sarcasm, I offer myself a pert and self-satisfied,
Thank you
, before
getting off the bus and walking up Sycamore to my new apartment.
My interview at SalesPace is set for three o’clock the following afternoon, which gives me a
lot of time to make other appointments and follow-up other leads, maybe even surf the internet
again. I find a few more want-ads, one or two that are decent possibilities. So I plan a route,
make sure I’ve got the right change for the buses (four in total), and begin to daydream of the
time I can buy myself a car and be able to insure it; this town is murder without a car.
I arrive at Brookshire Estates, a land development company with tracts in Florida, Montana,
Arizona, and New Mexico. The office is in a cluster of bungalows, about ten in all, with a lovely
English garden in the courtyard. I fill out the application and hand it to the receptionist, a man
this time. He’s a bit pudgy, his hair thinning fast, his complexion shiny with oil. He takes the
application, smiling. “We’ll call you.”
Not again!
I think, coming up with a fairly reliable way of changing his mind. I subtly bring
my hand up to undo the top button of my blouse, then lean forward the reception desk just a bit.
I brush one ringlet behind my ear like the sexiest librarian he’s never seen.
“I was really hoping to be able to interview today. I’m taking a meeting at three and I’m
pretty sure they’re going to make an offer.” I lean forward just a bit more, arching my back.
“But I think I’d much rather work here. Everybody seems so ... nice.” I breathe out the last
word, sexy and seductive (I hope). I’m not sure if this would work on a more confident or
socially successful person, but I’m not too surprised when this chubby receptionist smiles and
clears his throat, pulling at his neck tie.
“I ... I don’t know ... we have certain protocols in place to, um ... ” I lift one leg to rest it on
the desk as I lean a bit further in. “... To keep things running ... smoothly ...” His eyes trace the
lines of my calves, my thighs. “So smooth.”
Then, as if he knows he’s being watched (by God if by nobody else) he clears his throat
again and leans back, taking another look at my application. “Oh, I see here you don’t have any
real estate experience, um -”
“Addison Compo,” I say, leaning forward again, more desperate than cunning. “Sometimes
they call be
Combo
... because I want it all.”
“Well, Miss ... um, you seem like a fine young woman, I know you’re very bright and very
talented, but I also know that they’re gonna wanna see at least two years experience in real
estate. I’m sorry you came all the way down.”
“Yes, but -”
“But if you meant what you said, I’m free for lunch in about an hour.” He smiles, raising his
eyebrows and grinning. “I wouldn’t mind ordering ... the
combo platter.
”
“Oh, gee, that’s really nice of you ... to hit on me in this workplace situation -”
“No, I wasn't -”
A little louder, I go on, “I suppose a girl has to compromise herself sexually to get a job
around here, is that it? I may not have any real estate experience, but I do have some legal
experience -”
“I didn’t see any of that on your resumé.”
“Well, I ... ”
Nice improvising, dummy,
I chide myself. “It was volunteer work, at a law
firm. The biggest one in Colorado!”
Now bereft of any of his sexual hunger and getting fed up withmy aggression, he says, “And
which law firm was that?”
Rats!
I think to myself.
No way to lie your way out of this! Pick one like Jacoby & Meyers
and he may call. Make one up and he’ll check the directory anyway.
Well,
I tell myself,
at least you won’t be in the room when he does.
But I decide to say, “You’ll find out when they serve you with the papers. You won’t be
hard to spot; I’ll just name the lost
Hungry Hungry Hippo
as one of the defendants.”
With my head held high and my shoulders back, I cross the reception area and pull the door
open, putting the office and the entire event behind me as quickly as possible.
I walk through the courtyard a bit faster than I should. Some of it is righteous indignation,
but most is simple embarrassment and a fervent hope to get out of there before anyone in the
office comes out and calls me on my strictly empty threats.
I turn the corner, stepping out of the courtyard and into the entrance area, a kind of bricklined outdoor reception patio. But I don’t see the man in front of me until it’s too late. It
happens in a flash; the bump, the gape, the pause, the splash, and suddenly I’m standing in a
coffee-soaked Anne Klein and he with an empty Styrofoam cup.
“Oh, I am so sorry,” he says, looking around and finding nothing to clean it off. “Are you
okay? I didn’t burn you or anything?”
Nope,
I’m happy to discover,
just soiled and soaked!
“I’m fine,” I say, taking in the damage. If the suit isn’t ruined, it’s certainly a history lesson
as far as today’s interview is concerned. I check my watch. “Two o’clock, no time to get home
before the interview.”
“Interview?”
“Yes, at ... well, it doesn’t really matter now.”
“What kind of position, what do you do?”
“Business management,” I say.
He nods. “I see. That’s why you’re here, a job interview?” I nod, and he adds, “How’d it
go?”
I can only shake my head. “If you’re interviewing, I’d say you’ve got an open door.”
“In more ways than one. I own this building actually, here to see one of the tenants about
renewing their lease.”
“Really? You ... wow, you own the building, that’s ... wow.”
We stand in an awkward silence for a moment or two before he suddenly says, “I’m sorry,
where are my manners? I’m Randolph, Randolph MacLeish.”
He extends his hand and I take it. “Addie Compo ... with a P.”
Randolph looks around, spotting a waste paper basket and chucking the Styrofoam cup.
“Well, Addie Compo with a P, let me make it up to you. You said your appointment’s in an
hour? How far from here?”
“It’s just up on Melrose, actually. But my clothes -”
He takes my hand. “C’mon, there’s a nice shop close by. I’ll buy you something and we’ll
get you to your interview on time.”
I hesitate; not because I don’t deserve to have my clothes replaced (I do) and not because I
don’t want to make it to the interview (I do and I must). But I’m not in the habit of getting into
cars with strange men who promise to buy me fancy clothes.
I take my first good, long look at Randolph MacLeish. He’s tall and broad-shouldered, in his
late thirties I would guess by his slightly graying hair. He’s got a distinguished quality in a
charcoal Haggar herringbone suit.
I say, “I really shouldn’t. It’s kind of you to offer, but -”
“No, I insist, really. My car’s right over here.” He points out a stunning silver Mercedes
Benz SL-Class roadster.
I look at him again.
He seems nice enough
, I surmise.
A little clumsy maybe, but I don’t
think he’s going to hurt me. And I really need that job; if I’m going to get it, I do need some new
clothes.
I giveit a little thought, but only enough so that it doesn’t look like I’m jumping on his offer,
which is what I
am
doing.
“Um, okay, sure,” I say. He steps back and holds his hand out to the Benz. He unlocks and
opens the car door and waits. It’s a frightening moment, one I may not be able to walk away
from.
Oh, get over yourself,
I hear my little voice ridicule from within,
you’re not exactly Kate
Middleton. Now just smile and nod and get in the car or kiss that job at SalesPace goodbye!
Ten minutes later, we’re in an
Anne Taylor
. I feel very girlish and almost giggly as I try on
a red crepe peplum jacket and a pencil skirt, a glen plaid jacket and a tropical wool pinstripe
skirt. I look at myself in the mirror, a bit surprised but happily so.
I’m really rather passable,
I have to admit.
Maybe even a bit more than that. Are my legs
this long, or is it the mirror? Hey, from the side my boobs really stand up, I didn’t realize.
I go in and out of the changing room a bunch of times, Randolph sitting nearby. He nods
when he sees something he likes. And though it’s not like I’m going to be wearing these clothes
for him (he’s just paying me back for soiling my own clothes after all), I do value his opinion.
His own clothes hang so nicely on his tall, muscular frame; his broad shoulders, his steely chest,
his flat stomach and narrow waist.
I shake my head and get back to the business at hand.
Business!
I check my watch; a nasty tremor passing through my body, shaking me down to my core.
“It’s ten after three, I missed my appointment!”
Randolph checks his own watch, which looks to be silver or even platinum. He smiles and
shrugs. “There’ll be other opportunities. Try the pencil skirt again.”
“Other -?” I almost want to snap at him a little, but of course I don’t. No point in winding
up jobless and with no shirt on my back. Neither are very great, but together they are an
especially unattractive proposition; definitely not the kind of combo I’m looking for. I clear my
throat and smile. “I’m sure you’re right.” I look down at the skirts and jackets, each with silk
blouses and shoes and matching accessories. “Whaddaya think? For the next interview, I
mean.”
Randolph looks me over and smiles, a bit amused and, if I do say so, a bit hungrily as well.
He turns to the sales girl and says, “We’ll take the last three outfits, two each in different shades.
Can you deliver them?”
“Six -?” I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I add, “No, I can’t possibly -”
“Addie, please, it’s not charity -”
“Well, I didn’t take it for charity -”
“It’s not
that
either, whatever you’re thinking.” He looks at me with a roguish smile, his
head bobbing just a touch. “After all, I can’t have my new junior associate going around without
the right kind of clothes.”
I have to shake my head to wrap my brain around it. But lacking time and a place to digest
his offer, I can only say, “What? I -?”
“I just lost mine and I haven’t been able to find anyone good enough to replace her,”
Randolph says, looking almost sheepish. “I hope you don’t think I’ve been trying to trick you,
but I did want to see if we got along well together.”
I look at him, almost tempted to feign anger just to see how he’ll react, but I have much more
pressing things to worry about; staying out of the gutter, for one. And getting closer to
Randolph, for another.
I simply ask, “
Do
we get along?”
He offers up a little chuckle. “I’d say so; enough to offer thirty grand a year to start. It’s not
much, but it’ll get you going. And we’ll see how things go from there.”
“Wow, um, thirty grand ... ”
“Plus little ... bonuses along the way.” He looks around, holding his hands up to the
glistening store around us; and at the clothes he’s already buying me, as yet unseen.
“And what would this job entail, exactly ... roughly?”
Randolph seems to give it a little thought. “Seeing to my daily agenda, business errands,
acting as my secretary on out-oftown trips and so on.”
I nod slowly, to show him I’m still not convinced. “Personal assistant. But ... more
assistant
than
personal
, I trust?”
“Addie, do you think I’d go through all this just to -?”
“No no, Mr. MacLeish -“
“Call me Randolph, please.”
“Um, okay, Mr. Mac -Randolph, I’m not implying anything at all, just ... just making sure.
Y’know, with the clothes and all ... ”
Randolph takes a step toward me and sets his large hands gently on my upper arms. He
looks me straight in the eyes. “I can teach you a lot, Addie, things I guarantee you never learned
in school. This is a whole new world opening up to you. All you have to do is be open to it.”
His voice gets very sultry and gravelly at the end of his sentence, but I’m not sure if it’s a
matter of his intention or my imagination. Either way, it certainly makes an impression.
I say, “Randolph, it’s a very flattering offer ... ”
“Oh, okay, I understand,” Randolph says with a kind of sympathetic disappointment. “Well,
you can keep the clothes, I’ll give you a ride home and we’ll always be -”
“No no, that’s not what I ... I mean, I was going to say that it’s a flattering offer ... and I
accept, definitely.”
He smiles, seeming a bit surprised.
I wonder why that is.
Did he really think I’d walk away from an offer like this? Is there
some reason I should?
I put that all aside and smile with genuine excitement.
Randolph seems to read my expression and matches it with one of his own, a debonaire smile
that twinkles with an elevated charm.
After paying for the clothes and arranging to have them delivered to my apartment, Randolph
drives me back and walks me to the front door, where the intercom system stands not-so-silent
guard.
I say, “I’d invite you up, but I’ve only just arrived here myself a few days ago, and -”
“Nonsense,” he says with a warm smile. “You relax, wait for the clothes to arrive, take it
easy. We’ll start bright and early tomorrow morning.”
When I get upstairs and tell Emily and Quinton about my new job, there’s only one thing to
do (in Emily’s own words):