and go up in flames? Let me guess . . . you rescued 20 homeless children from a fire and when the media arrived, you tried to sneak off because you didn’t want the fame, but they forced you into the limelight and now you have to lose the press who are hot on your trail? Something like that, right?”
I cock my head to the side, face void of all amusement. “No, my cat is sick and puked in my lap while I was having breakfast. I had to change. I couldn’t come in here smelling like cat vomit.”
He shakes his head. “It’s always something with you. When will you come out with the truth and tell me you’re a complete failure at time management? One more slip-up from you and I’m afraid I’ll have to let you go.” He takes off, back to his office.
Daniel exits his office and smirks in my direction. “You have to admit, you’re not very good at getting here on time.”
I scoff. “I’m not good at getting anywhere on time. At this point, I’m fairly certain I’ll be late for my own funeral.”
He laughs but continues on his way to the copy room.
I try to focus all my attention on the task at hand: logging in to my computer, turning on my phone, and checking my email for the daily list of appointments and tasks.
The intercom on my desk buzzes. “Poppy, do you have my first client’s file ready?”
I roll my eyes. How am I supposed to have their file ready when I haven’t even seen who the first client is yet? I press the button and reply in my sweet voice. “I’m doing it now.”
He’s right back with, “How many times have I told you to get the files pulled the day before?”
Ugh. I know, I know. It makes sense to do it that way, and it would result in a much easier start to the day, but I’m always so busy in the afternoon that I forget or simply don’t have time. And if I’m honest, by the time 5 p.m. rolls around, it’s all I can do to get the hell out of this office before I snap at Mr. Lewis.
“I’m pulling the file now, sir,” I say through gritted teeth, ignoring his question.
The computer finally loads and I’m able to pull up the appointment book to see who our first client of the day is: Anderson, Samuel. I rush to the filing cabinet behind me and pull the file, taking it into his office. “Here you go. Sam Anderson’s file. He should be here in 10 minutes.” I’m feeling proud of myself for doing that so quickly. On another note, why the hell does he insist on using paper files when he has access to the e-files? Just another Matthew-ism that makes me want to staple this damn file to his forehead.
“Thank you,” he says, taking the file from my hand. “Did you remember to start your phone up? We can’t book clients if the phone isn’t working, and if we can’t book clients, we’re both out of a job. Surely I don’t have to explain that to you.” He runs a hand across his smooth, angular jaw as his lips turn up into a smirk.
“I understand how it works,” I say, spinning around to switch on my phone before he calls it and finds out I haven’t done it yet. As soon as I’m out of his sight, I sprint to my desk, nearly diving for my phone. I tap in my code and the phone resets. It’s on.
“I’m going to guess that your lack of answer means you haven’t done it yet,” he says from his office.
“What are you talking about? It’s on. See?” I pick it up and press the first button to call his phone.
It rings and he answers with, “Good timing.” Then he hangs up.
I collapse into my desk chair and let out a long sigh. Fuck. Today sucks already. After taking a moment to catch my breath, I pull up the schedule and pull the files for every client we have coming in today. I stack them on the corner of my desk. That way, each client who comes in already has a file ready, so I can grab it on the way to Mr. Lewis’ office.
Once that task is finished, I look at my email to see the things I’ve received overnight. This is usually just a long, stupid list of things my