Total pages in book: 153
Estimated words: 153935 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 770(@200wpm)___ 616(@250wpm)___ 513(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 153935 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 770(@200wpm)___ 616(@250wpm)___ 513(@300wpm)
Or maybe I am.
Sure, I told her to get her shit done before tomorrow knowing there’s virtually no way she can finish it. Then again, when you tell people they have four days, they take all four. You tell them two, they’ll take two. And if Sabrina Bristol has the backbone I think—I hope—she has, then she needs a real test of her mettle.
“Of course not, Armstrong,” I finally answer.
He laughs again. “You can’t pick up your own coffee for once?”
“Well. I could, but if I’m going to do that, what’s the point in having an assistant?” I ask. “Besides, Kona coffee makes the office run. I bought that farm and invested in the Bean Bar for a reason. How much further?”
“About forty minutes in this traffic.”
I hold in a groan. Somehow, a man never fully gets over the sluggish crawl of Chicagoland traffic.
With more time to pass, I scroll through my emails, flipping through performance reports for a dozen ad campaigns, and then look for anything else I can send my new EA to get it off my plate.
To: Sabrina Bristol
From: Magnus Heron
Priority: HIGH
Subject: ALSO IMPERATIVE
Ms. Bristol,
Please read all of my unopened email, delete spam and sales pitches, and mark everything else urgent or low priority at your first opportunity. You’ll get credentials for my account from Miss Hunting.
Yours,
Magnus Heron
CEO of HeronComm Inc.
Take that. I have three thousand unread emails.
When I look up again from hacking my way through my reports, Armstrong pulls up to a sprawling green field. There’s a one-story red brick building in the middle with soaring columns.
We’re right outside Winnetka at my old alma mater. He parks in the guest lot.
“Can I leave and come back?”
“Stay. This shit can’t take too long,” I say.
“The last time you said that we were here all day,” he chuckles, shaking his head. “When are you going to admit you’re a softie for these kids?”
“Never call me a softie again,” I grind out, shooting him a dagger look in the mirror.
“You’re the boss, Mr. Heron.”
Grumbling, I take my coffee and get out of the car. He’s lucky I tolerate his jabs, I think, taking a long slurp off my drink. I won’t get through this without fuel.
When I go to check in at the main office, the white-haired secretary beams. “Well, well! Magnus Heron.”
Why? Why couldn’t I have chosen another school?
Most of the staff were in place when I was a student here over a decade ago. They think they can still call me by my first name, like I’m still a student, and not the head of a multi-billion-dollar advertising leviathan.
But as I gawk at the familiar lined face smiling up at me, I swallow a sigh.
“Hello to you, too, Miss Margo,” I say, giving her a flashy smile.
“You’re here for the Young Scribes assembly, aren’t you?” she asks, tilting her head.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“How lovely! I’ll escort you to the auditorium, then. We can’t have you wandering the halls alone since you’re no longer a student. School policy!” She cackles, no doubt remembering simpler times.
She pushes out of her office chair and gingerly walks toward me. The woman must be at least seventy by now, frail as ever, and it’s a surprise she hasn’t retired.
I’m also surprised she doesn’t need someone holding her up. Step by creaky step, she slowly inches over, looks at the door, and clears her throat.
I grab the door for her and hold it open. “Ladies first.”
“You charmer. You always were a roamer, too,” she says with a thankful glance.
“Miss Margot, I know where the auditorium is. There’s no good reason for you to walk all the way down there with me.” And at this rate, with her pace, I’m worried it’ll take us half an hour to get there.
“Oh, no. Principal Drew was very clear. I have to escort all guests,” she says.
“Even alum?”
She lets out a crackly laugh.
“Especially alumni like you.” She smiles up at me and squeezes my bicep. “You sure did grow up strong. You were a skinny thing when you were here.”
Goddamn. I glance around the hall to make sure no one else is around. I can’t be seen being talked to like I’m still twelve.
What would my clients think? Or any muckraking bloggers looking for a story?
Plenty of alumni from this school have become Very Important People, too.
“Yeah, well, the Marine Corps did a good job filling me out,” I tell her.
I place my hand over hers and squeeze it gently so she won’t be offended by my next move. I peel her hand off my arm and drop it.
“Oh, look! The auditorium’s right there.” I nod toward the end of the hall. “I’ll just run right in since we’re here.”
Then I take off at a stride she’ll never be able to match.
She smiles behind me, shaking her head when I look over my shoulder.