Strapped by Nina G. Jones

Alongside Mr. Holden, we tear apart the proposals, analyzing figures, looking at them with a discerning eye. He wants to know every figure like the back of his hand before we arrive in St. Petersburg. I am surprised at how well I am keeping up. He dictates changes and questions to me so that I can later return the notes to the appropriate department for updates. My mind is spinning but I feel incredibly adept that I can even understand what is going on. Maybe there is something he sees in me that I don’t.
    He paces in his office while using me as a sounding board, turning some of the dictation into teaching moments for me. There are times I catch myself watching him walk across the room. His eyes are stone cold, fiery, and intense. He is wearing a grey pinstriped suit with a white shirt and lavender tie. After the first hour, he heats up from the movement and removes his jacket. He pulls on the knot in his tie and unbuttons the collar. Hello. His hair becomes more disheveled as time goes on. I notice he runs his hands through his hair a lot when he is concentrating. I catch myself biting my lip more than once. I hope I am not obvious. It’s about one o’clock when he abruptly announces: “Let’s wrap this up for a while. You can go grab lunch or you are welcome to join me in the kitchen.” I decide I should leave him to his own devices for a while as I am sure he is just trying to be polite. The man must want some alone time in his home.
    “I think I’ll step out for a while. Can I get you something?”
    “No thanks. I am fine for now. Oh, please see Harrison on the way out. He has something for you.”
    I head to the great room and wander around looking for Harrison. I finally see him emerge from one of the guest rooms.
    “Hi Harrison!”
    “Hello Ms. Ball, good to see you.”
    “Same here. Mr. Holden said I should see you? That you had something for me?”
    “Oh yes,” he reaches into his pocket, pulls out a small envelope and hands it to me. I pull out a black American Express card, the material used is unlike anything I have ever seen for a credit card. It says Holden Industries, Inc. just underneath my name.
    “You can use this card for your meals and errands for Mr. Holden. Just submit the receipts to accounting.” The perks of this job just keep coming. Maybe Marsha was the wrong person to ask about Holden. I feel him out with a question. I whisper: “Can I ask you something?”
    “Certainly.”
    “How did Mr. Holden know I was early? I have to admit, it was a little disconcerting. He seems to know everything.” Mr. Harrison smiles.
    “There is external surveillance throughout the house and we also receive alerts whenever any external door is accessed.” I sigh, a bit relieved that I wasn’t being watched as I walked through the house.
    “Mr. Holden likes to play games doesn’t he?” I whisper to Harrison with a smirk. He simply grins and shrugs. I know I can’t press him any further and I head out to lunch.
    Upon my return the afternoon is spent reviewing notes we made in the morning and creating an outline to submit back to the proposal team. A little after four o’clock, I complete the task.
    “Mr. Holden. What should I do with these?” I ask.
    “You can email them to Marsha who knows what to do. Then I would like you to run an errand for me.”
    I quickly email the attachment to Marsha and let Mr. Holden know I am ready for the errand. “I need you to go here and pick something up. Bella will know where to guide you. Please bring it back and then you can go on home. Size four.” He hands me a business card. This must be the “personal” part of being a personal assistant.
    The card is a soft cream color with decorative gold filigree borders. It reads:
    Bella’s Intimates
    Delectable Intimates for the Discerning Mademoiselle
    Lingerie shopping? Isn’t this Mona’s jurisdiction? He says he needs it for tonight. My heart sinks at the thought. Of course, he has a lady or maybe even