5.29.11
"So I'm sure you're very aware of who your bosses will be." Ashley watched the woman sitting across the small room from him confidently cross her ankles as she nodded.
"Yes, sir. I am aware of who they are, but not am I now or ever been obsessed with them in any sense of the word. I respect them too much as musicians, and also the opportunity you're presenting to me to make any conscious moves to jeopardize that."
Ashley nodded slowly and smiled. He sure did like listening to her talk, with that slow Texas drawl and sweet politeness. Reminded him of warm afternoons on a porch drinking lemonaid.
"Can you tell me about your experience as an administrative assistant?"
"Surely," she smiled at him sweetly.
As he listened to her talk, his mind drifted. She sure was a pretty little thing. With her waistlong brunette ringlets, sideswept bangs, big blue eyes framed with thick lashes, pixie nose and full pink lips on a heart shaped face. Would it be possible to tuck her in his pocket and take her home? Now he'd have to stop by here more often. He bet the wives wouldn't be happy if they knew, but professionally, she was the best candidate by far, she just happened to look like like a fun-size Southern Belle Barbie.
"When are you available to start, Emma Jo?"
"Anytime is just fine with me," she smiled.
"How does tomorrow morning sound? Everyone around here doesn't like to stop what they're working on to answer the phones, you know? So we'd appreciate someone as soon as possible."
"If it's that big of an inconvenience for you, I could start now," she glanced at the clock on the wall to her right. It is only ten thirty," she suggested.
He contemplated. The guys wouldn't be in today, and if she stayed while he trained her, they might actually get some work done. After a minute, he nodded. "If you're sure you have no other plans, you can start now, with the hours and pay we discussed earlier."
A huge grin appeared on her face, and he was momentarilly stunned.
"That would be wonderful, Mr. Grayson, sir."
"Ashley, please," he returned her smile. It was just too irrisistable. "Well, let's begin for an hour and a half before lunch. Come with me." She followed him out of the small room to the front desk to the right of the front door, behind darkly tinted windows. "Here, sit. I'll go get another chair."
She nodded and sat in the plush leather desk chair behind the double screened computer and four line phone. She watched Ashley return pushing another desk chair and sat next to her. "Now. Rule number one about our phones. Unless someone is expecting a call and let you know about it before hand, you always take a message, do not interrupt unless it's a life or death situation. Once you take that message, you pass it along to the appropriate party, unless the caller wants to leave a voicemail. But I'm going to tell you know, voicemail is rarely checked around here." She nodded, listening intently, making mental notes. "And then, with your contact list here," he pointed to the list on a piece of paper taped to the bottom of the nearest compter screen to him, "you can text or email to whoever the message goes to, depending on the importance If it can wait, email's the best way." Her heart skipped a beat. On that paper were their names with private emails and cell numbers. How many girls would love to have this information? But she knew she wasn't going to abuse it. She wanted nothing but success and happiness for her new bosses. "Release of this information to unauthorized parties will result in immediate termination." She nodded, understanding completely. "Of course, there are a lot of guests who come through here also, and their information applies to the same rules. This is all covered in the form you will sign in a minute. Any questions?"
"Not as of yet, no sir. Ashley," she corrected herself.
They went through sales calls, merchandising calls, calls requesting meetings, and calls requesting information, all on speaker phone, while she took notes. Not paying attention to the time, they worked longer than the hour and a half, goin over what her projects would be in between calls, and where to find any information. Sooner than later, it was three o'clock before anyone noticed the time.
"Emma Jo, I apologize. Let's call it an early day. I'll see you tomorrow morning at eight then? Oh, and Emma Jo, you can wear jeans, and here's a key. I think you'll most likely be the first here."
She smiled at him, taking the key. "Sounds perfect, Ashley. Have a great night." She grabbed her purse, nodded good night, and showed herself out of 3CG. She walked down the sidewalk a couple parking spots to her little silver S40 Volvo. Yeah, she had to have a silver Volvo. Inside her darkly tinted windows, she looked both ways down the street, then stared down at the key in her hand. She had what so many would kill for. A key to 3CG. Wow. As she drove to her hotel, her mind couldn't help but go over the events of the day.
She pretty much had been hired on the spot, but with family recommendation, courtesy of Jessica. They'd been friends for going on six years, from meeting at a performing arts camp. They'd stayed in contact, meeting up whenever possible. They wern't that far away from eachother. Herself in Dallas and Jessica in Tulsa. Jessica had this new job before her, but now she was going to school full time, where as she was going part time, in the evening for music production, both theater and studio. She jumped at the chance, knowing what an oppertunity it would be for her to work in a record company and going to school for it, in a conversation she'd been having with Jessica, with her saying how bad she felt leaving 3CG with no front desk. She'd volunteered, and submitted a resume. As soon as she'd gotten the call for an interview from Mr. Greyson, she'd booked a room at the Crowne Plaza, where she stayed whenever she was in town. And if she got the job, which she now had, her next task was to look for an apartment and transfer to the university here. She pulled into the garage of the Crowne, parked, grabbed her purse and made her way to her room, not noticing the usual glances and flat out stares. It wasn't that she was dressed provocatively, in a just-below-the-knee length black flared pencil skirt, white long sleeved button down with ruffles, and a fitting black vest, with high heeled Mary Jane style shoes.
Once in her room on the fourth floor, she sat on her bed, grabbed her laptop and turned it on. Waiting for it to boot up, she took off her shoes and vest, dug her pajama's out of her bag, and got ready for bed. When she was ready, she climbed into bed, turned on the news for background noise, and began her search for an apartment.
Chapter Two