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But no. I swallow my tears and try to enjoy the song and the drive. I even sing along.
In the forty-five minutes it takes to get us to the office, my mind works at top speed. What are those two doing back there? Why did Eric ask me to sit up front? Why is he still mad at me? When the limo stops, I get out before the driver has a chance to open my door.
Once out of the car, I smile when I see Santiago Ramos. He’s the admin for this branch office, and we’ve always had a good rapport. The driver opens the car door, and Eric and Amanda emerge. I don’t look at them. I just stare straight ahead with my sunglasses on.
Eric greets Jesús Gutierrez, the branch director, and his executive council. He introduces Amanda and then me. Conducting myself with utter professionalism, I shake hands with each of them and follow. But this time, instead of staying behind Eric and Amanda, I slow down to say hi to Santiago. We share a pair of quick kisses on the cheek as a greeting.
Once we are inside, a couple of young women offer us coffee. I accept gladly. I need coffee. My distance from Eric, coupled with my chat with Santiago, helps me calm down. In my peripheral vision, I see Eric turn. It’s just for an instant, but I know he is looking for me.
Santiago and I keep talking, and we laugh when he tells me stories about his little girl. Ten minutes later, we all stroll into the conference room and take our positions. Like always, Eric presides. Amanda sits to his right, and I try to find a seat farther away.
“Miss Flores.” I hear my boss call my name. I manage to keep a straight face.
“Please sit on the other side of the table. In front of me.”
I want to kill him ... just kill him.
But determined to be the perfect assistant, I pick up and sit where he indicates. On the other side of the table. In front of him.
The meeting begins, and I listen carefully to everything. I don’t look at him, and I don’t think he looks at me either. I have my cell in front of me, and I fear I might get one of his texts. But luckily, none come. At one o’clock, we pause the meeting. It’s time to eat. The branch director has reserved a table at a nearby hotel, and Santiago offers to give me a ride. I accept.
Not paying any particular attention to my Iceman—he’s standing with Amanda—I’m walking by him when I hear him call. I ask Santiago to give me a minute and go see what my boss wants.
“Where are you going, Miss Flores?”
“To the restaurant, Mr.Zimmerman.”
Eric sees Santiago waiting for me.
“You may go in the limo with us.”
Good. Now he’s pissed off.
Payback!
Amanda stares at us. We speak in Spanish, which I think annoys her.
“Thank you, Mr.Zimmerman, but if you don’t mind, I’m going to go with Santiago.”
“I do mind,” he responds.
There’s no one around us. No one can hear us.
“Too bad for you, sir.”
I turn around and walk away.
I know I’ve just been as reckless as any administrative assistant can be. And probably more so, given that Eric’s the boss. But I needed to do that. I needed to make him feel how I’m feeling.
Without concern for the consequences, I go back to Santiago and casually take his arm. We get into his car and head toward the restaurant while I start to calculate when I’ll stop working. Because, after this, they’re going to fire me for sure.
When we get there, Santiago and I get a pair of Cokes.
I see Eric come in, with Amanda and the big bosses behind him, and I can sense his anger. The executives come in and take their places. Eric looks like he’s going to sit but then gives some excuse and beckons to me. Santiago and I see him, and I can’t not go.
I take a swallow of my Coke, put the glass on the bar, and go see what’s up now.
“Yes, Mr.Zimmerman, how may I help you?”