by Trisky
It was an emergency deal, I was never supposed to work for him. He'd finally found an assistant, Lisa, that he hadn't made cry or develop an addiction to over the counter pain relievers. The fact that she was pregnant the entire time she worked for him worked to her advantage. Even Brian has his limits when it comes to picking on people. Probably the first sign that he has a heart somewhere in there. So when she went into early labor sitting at her desk one afternoon and they told me I would have to cover His Nastiness until they could hire someone new because no one wanted the unenviable task of dealing with him, I sucked it up and secretly wished Lisa one of those births that take three days. My boyfriend at the time, some guy in human resources, got an earful about it. Even *he* didn't envy me. But it was only for a couple of weeks, until they could find someone else. A couple of weeks that have somehow turned into four years.
Anyway, that morning started off on the wrong foot with the coffee and the cream and just got progressively worse. Brian sat in an office a few doors down from Bob and Brad. They stick all junior execs in shared offices and they all share assistants. They all started at the same time, but Brian never shared an office or an assistant with anyone. I sat near Bob and Brad so I could be at their beck and call, only they never learned the becking or the calling. I think I intimidated them, they didn't know what to do with an assistant. Mostly I sat there so I could make sure they didn't have nervous breakdowns and start chewing paper. I'd heard Brian in there yelling on way too many occasions. I never looked up when he'd walk out, pretending like I was deaf, dumb and blind. It gets you pretty far in life. So that morning I'm sitting at my desk totally rearranging a presentation for some huge account, and Brian is yelling from his office that he needs to get someone on the line and "his fucking phone won't dial". He's screaming my name, like I really *am* deaf, and before I can even put the storyboard down, he's storming out of his office looking at the empty desk in front of him like I'm going to magically appear. When he sees me approaching, he starts with his attitude again. Why am I sitting over there, why won't his phone dial, why should he have to come out there looking for me, and on and on he went. He demanded I move my ass to where he could see me, never mind the fact that I did have other work to do that required being at my own desk. What Brian wants, Brian gets. I told him if he continued with that tone, the next time he'd see my ass moving would be when it walked straight past him and to the head of human resources to file a formal complaint. He almost cracked a smile. Almost.
I left Bob and Brad in the lurch that day, and they had to scramble to put together their presentation on their own. What a disaster that turned out to be. But Brian had phone problems and that was enough for Brian to take precedence in the world according to His Nastiness. My ass did move, begrudgingly to the desk in front of him, and I listened to him yell at me all day about everything I was doing wrong. I didn't open the right pieces of mail, I didn't know where his files were, I didn't know how he liked his fucking coffee. I knew nothing about his accounts. I should have walked right in, in the middle of the meeting with Ryder, when I had the guy from AllSport's on the phone. Nag, nag, whine, whine, whine. I just put on my best fake smile and reminded myself that it would only be for a couple of weeks.
So, 5:00 rolls around and I'm taking my tired ass and pounding headache and I'm going home. He comes out in a huff and wants to know where I'm going. "Home", I tell him. He slaps both his hands on the desk, something I'd seen him do with Lisa a ton of times, but I'm deaf, dumb and blind, so of course I never really saw it, his tricks were all new to me. Yeah, right. He demands that I stay and help him with the "fucking account Ryder just threw in my lap, because Bob and Brad don't know the difference between shit and even more shit." So I slapped the desk back, and that got his attention. Lisa always looked the other way, and I guess he expected me to as well, since I'd never given him any attention before. I think I must have startled him because he actually shutup for the first time that day, and there was that faint hint of a smile again.
We laid the ground rules down that day. If I was going to work for him even for two weeks, then he'd have to learn a little respect if he wanted something. I stayed with him until almost midnight and told him the ideas I'd originally given Bob and Brad to help enhance their presentation, the same ideas they had pointedly ignored. He actually picked up on one of them and reworked it in his own inimitable Brian way. It was the first time I'd ever felt like someone respected my ideas, and respected the hard work I was putting in. I came in the next day and there were a dozen roses in a vase on the desk, no card.
Now, here it is four years later, and every Monday there's a dozen roses on my desk without fail. I never left that desk after that disastrous first day, and a week later I no longer worked for Brad and Bob. My new title was "Executive Account Assistant", which somehow entitled me to a nice, hefty raise. I still use my deaf, dumb and blind approach, only Brian doesn't really think I am, the way Brad and Bob did. He knows better. He just appreciates the fact that I pretend I am, when I have to, in order to deal with him. I know his accounts like the back of my hand. I know all his quirks, and I know just how to deal with him and his pissy attitude. I wouldn't put up with him if I didn't think he respected me and if I didn't know there was a generous, kind man lurking around somewhere in there. We even laugh, which is something he rarely does with anyone at work.
Mostly, I minimize the amount of bullshit he has to deal with. He knows that whatever winds up on his desk, or on the phone, filters through me. He doesn't have to know all the nitty gritty details of who fucked up what account, or what reservations aren't available. All he knows is that things run smoothly and he can focus on what he does best, and he is definitely the best.
In four years of working for him and answering his phone, keeping track of all of his appointments, ordering gifts to send to people, hearing bits and pieces of conversations here and there and the stuff he lets slip when we're around working late at night and he's tired, I've got a pretty good idea what his life is like. I know what personal stuff he wants to deal with at work. Like when Michael calls, I always put him through, unless Brian is really overwhelmed. When Lindsay calls, I have to take his temperature and see what kind of mood he's in. Thank goodness they invented voicemail, I don't feel nearly as guilty putting someone off now.
So when Justin started calling, it took me a while to figure out his place on the scale of bullshit Brian didn't want to deal with. The first time I told him there was a Justin Taylor on the line for him I thought he'd pop a blood vessel. Over the months, the calls just kept coming. Not a lot of them, but consistently enough that you could almost mark the progression of the relationship based on Brian's response. This was also the first time anyone, outside of his small inner circle, had started to call on a regular basis. I always knew Brian was gay, I don't even remember how or when I found out, it was just something I knew, something everyone knew. I knew it as well as I knew that he never got personal calls from anyone who wasn't a friend. I can't say I know Justin well now, it's not like he calls every day, maybe once or twice a week, but I know when he does, Brian always takes the call. He didn't at first, but he does now. I actually interrupted meetings with Ryder to put calls through. I don't use his first name when relaying messages, he's always "Mr. Taylor". It makes him sound more official. I haven't had to interrupt him with Vance yet. I noticed that Justin had stopped calling after that party I had to organize behind Vance's back. That's one of the perks of being partner, using the firms resources and not having to explain the expense.
Now that was a big deal. He sat me down and explained what he wanted and what he was promoting, and asked for my strictest confidence. No gossiping over the watercooler, to keep Vance from finding out. Well there was that, and there was the obvious. No gossiping about him. I'd never heard him explain this much about his life in one sitting. Not that he came out and told me, but deaf, dumb and blind me put two and two together and kept my mouth shut. Then the phone calls stopped. Brian became crabby and worked hours upon hours, blaming it on all the extra responsibility he has as partner. Which is true, but half the time he can't wipe his ass without me holding the toilet paper, so I know what his responsibilities really are. He wasn't even this eager when he was out to impress people as a junior exec.
Then a couple of weeks ago, the first call came through again. He seemed kind of reluctant to answer, but he went back into his office, closed the door, and was on the phone for a good ten minutes. He's called Brian twice since then, the calls taking a little longer each time. Imagine my surprise when he called to speak to me and not to Brian. He wanted the exact address of the firm and didn't want to bother Brian in the middle of a heavy workday to ask for it.
Now I know why. I've seen tons of invitations for black tie events that people want Brian to attend. They all start to look the same after a while. A cream colored piece of bond paper with black or gold lettering and a raised border. It's all very fancy and official. I throw most of them away. Brian's not really the social type. So when I get this invitation postmarked from the Pittsburgh Institute of Fine Arts, I almost throw it away, until I remember dealing with that bitch in the bursar's office, trying to pay Justin's tuition.
It's a really beautiful invitation, same old cream colored bond paper. But there's this detailing on the border in pencil, like someone has drawn it by hand, and the calligraphy is handwritten. I know this is a one of a kind invitation, something Justin has created. It's an invitation to a showing that PIFA is organizing at some small gallery downtown. I know Brian is going to chew me out for bothering him with invitations, but I also know he'd probably fire me for not mentioning this one. I'll just pretend like I accidentally got it mixed in with the rest of his mail when I hand it to him.
I take his coffee, black, no fucking cream and a ton of sugar and the mail and make my way into his office. He's stressing about the Brown Tech Limited account. I don't even know what semiconductors do, I haven't been able to come up with a single suggestion to help him out. He's got a couple of weeks to work it out, and I'm sure he'll pull some miracle out of his ass like he always does. The invitation is right on top and I throw it on the desk like it's no big deal, hand him his coffee and start cleaning out his outbox. When he can't be bothered to leave his office or he's just too busy, that's where he leaves his work. I watch him, pretending to read some memo he wants me to type. His handwriting is for shit, so it doesn't seem like a big deal for me to stand there and puzzle it out. He doesn't notice the invitation at first, hell he doesn't even notice me. When he finally spots it, he gives it a quick glance, his mouth getting ready to ream me out, until he starts reading it and the realization of what it is sets in. He studies it for a good long minute, then turns his chair to the second phone in back of him. I can only see his profile from here. I continue rustling some papers and pretend to be totally immersed in his work in case he decides to remember to realize I haven't left.
I hear Justin's voice on the other end, answering with a groggy "Hello". Brian has him on speakerphone. He always does that when he wants to seem like someone is interrupting his precious time because he knows everyone hates having to talk to someone who can't even be bothered to pick up the receiver.
"It's 10:00 and you're still sleeping?" His voice is gruff, but his face isn't. I can see how not bothered he really is.
"Fuck off. I was up half the night trying to finish a piece for my final."
"I knew you wouldn't last in 8:30 classes. That's why there are so many first quarter freshman in those classes, they don't know better."
"Is there something you wanted?" I'm used to Justin being as nice as can be on the phone with me. It's a pleasant surprise to hear someone else who doesn't take Brian's attitude lying down.
"You tell me. What's the invitation about?" I can hear sounds from Justin's end, like he's just bolted upright out of bed.
"It's exactly what it says. My life drawing professor is putting up some of our stuff. I thought you'd like to see yourself hanging on a gallery wall."
"Why would I want to do that?" Oh, *please*. Why does a dog lick its own balls? Because he can, and so would Brian if he could. I almost laugh. Brian as cocktease. The world has officially ground to a halt.
"I've never known you to turn down an invitation to bask in the glow of yourself. Something told me you wouldn't want to miss the opportunity." I feel guilty standing here listening to this, but sadly, this is the most entertainment I've had in weeks.
"I can just look in the mirror in that case. Why should I waste a perfectly good Saturday night at some boring function with a bunch of 18 year olds trying to explain why a portrait is the abstract expression of all of their torturous teenage angst?" I regret ever having given him the invitation.
"Because I'm asking you to be there." He puts it so simply that Brian almost winces at the phone. "If you don't want to go, that's fine. Just tell me so, and I won't waste my time asking again." I can almost picture the look on his face. I might have to put up with Brian all day, but I don't have to be in love with him. I really don't know how he does it.
"I can't make it. I already have other plans." He actually seems softer somehow, like he might actually regret being so full of himself for once in his life. Well, at least it's not an admission that he doesn't want to be there. Small comfort to Justin, I'm sure.
"Oh. I didn't realize..." Ouch. I actually feel a little pang of sympathy in my chest for the poor boy.
"I told Michael we'd do something together. We haven't had much time to see each other since I made partner. You know, you should be proud of me. You didn't even have to prod me into asking him." Somehow, I don't think that's gonna make him feel better at all.
"I've always been proud of you Brian. That's why you're the one hanging on the wall." I'm sure it's no longer sleep making his voice so heavy. "If you can't make it... you can't make it. I just thought I'd ask. Have fun with Michael. I'll catch up with you next week." It's like he can't get off the phone fast enough.
"Later." He just dismisses him. Brian, Brian, Brian, how someone so smart can be so stupid...
"Later."
He presses the release button and leans back in his chair, the same almost smile I saw that first morning resting in the shadows of his cheeks. He looks surprised to see me still standing there. If I didn't know better, I'd say he was almost embarrassed, but nothing embarrasses Brian. He is beyond embarrassment. I fucking hate that about him.
"You should go, you know. He really wants you there." I scurry quickly to the door after that. I know His Nastiness is about to become His Vileness.
"Shut the fuck up and get me a decent cup of coffee. Not that shit you make." I look at him and blatantly roll my eyes. He seems amused, even his demand wasn't nasty. More pissy affection than anything.
I close the door behind me and I think it must be true what they say. Eventually the cream will *always* rise to the top.