I woke with a start. Oh, thank God I was dreaming. Getting out of bed and then making it like my mother taught me, I went to my dresser to dig out today’s attire. It was actually “Picnic Day” at “Wanderlust”, and we were allowed to dress casually. So, being as casual as can be: I chose a pair of dark denim jeans, a black spaghetti strap undershirt, a gray tank top to go over it—that also had a cute cross-section near my collarbone, that exposed the black undershirt underneath—a red and black plaid light jacket with a little bit of cotton lining near the neck and of course, my black converse sneakers. The bathroom part is boring, so I’ll just skip that. My makeup—in the end—looked natural, and the usually straight auburn hair, was done in a cute style: like a French crown braid.
After all was said and done, I placed slim glasses onto my face. Satisfied with my overall look, I ate breakfast (more like toast with butter and strawberry jam) then grabbed my black leather “Juicy Couture” purse. Checking inside to make sure I had everything, I was headed out the door. Today is going to be a beautiful day, I told myself, about to get into my blue Ford Fusion when my phone suddenly rang. ‘Unknown Number’ It read. Picking it up and about ready to ream an unfortunate telemarketer’s ass, a silky voice speaks.
“Hello Miss Grant,” The voice says, apparently knowing who I am.
“Who’s this?” I ask, wondering what sort of creep has called me at seven-o’clock in the morning.
“Don’t you recognize my voice?” The man taunts, a chuckle escaping from the mouthpiece. “I’m sad Miss Grant, truly. As a yokai, I thought your hearing was better than this.”
At the mention of the word ‘yokai’, I literally start freaking out. Who the hell is this? I ask myself, staring at my phone as if it was bugged.(You know, the Illuminati and all that.) “Seriously, who are you?” I ask, now getting extremely annoyed.
With a sigh, the voice on the other end pauses, “It’s me, your boss. Kirian Cross remember? I made you my assistant yesterday…”
When I don’t answer, he continues, “At the conference meeting?”
Oh shit! I thought, putting a hand over my mouth in shock. Yesterday wasn’t a dream. I was actually Mr. Kirian Cross’s personal assistant. Fanning myself with my free hand to get rid of the heat that was rising in my cheeks, “Sorry Mr. Cross. I didn’t recognize your voice or your number.”
“Apparently,” He murmured, “you must’ve thought I was a creep or telemarketer.”
Is he a mind reader? I guess I hesitated too long for he stopped talking. “Hello? Miss Grant?” His voice echoed through the receiver. Snapping back to reality:
“Yes?”
“Anyway, I was calling to ask you about the picnic we were having today. We will, instead, be going to a different place this time. It’s called, “Hightail”. It’s a outdoor theatre. I figured it’d be a nice change of pace, plus, it might be interesting.”
The way he said ‘interesting’ worried me. What’s so interesting about an outdoor theatre? I wondered.
“Your job, Miss Grant, is to notify all of our employees within an hour, the reservation will be at three-o’clock this evening. Don’t worry, I already made the reservations myself.” With a click, he then hung up on me. Letting my arm drop, with the phone being held tightly, I close my eyes and let out a huge sigh. Why? I ask myself. Why must I be his assistant?
After an hour of emailing my colleagues and some of my clanmates, I was brain dead. When someone tells you not to look at a computer screen for too long, it’s because you’ll become a flesh-eating zombie. I don’t believe in them, but I sure felt like one after “Mr. Cross’s” first assignment for me. Practically laying across my computer desk, I manage to turn off the power button and then with effort, stretch in the nice leather chair my mom had bought me a year ago. “Ah that feels so nice!”
Getting up after ten minutes of pure bliss, my phone then rings again. Tired, I pick up without looking. “Hellooo?” I ask, slurring like a drunk.
“You alright Miss Grant?” The somewhat familiar voice asks.
“Do I sound alright? Mr. Cross?” I replied, walking into my living room and sprawling out on the couch. “You gave me an hour to email over one-thousand people. Not to mention so many of them replied back for no reason. I wasn’t expecting to hold at least two-hundred different correspondences.” Stretching out a numb leg, I could feel it pop. “Jerk,” I mutter, hoping he would hear it. For a brief second, I did catch a hint of laughter, but maybe I’d imagined it.
“Well, I did believe in your abilities Miss Grant. Why else would you be my assistant? I don’t pick idiots to help me, especially if it concerns ‘Wanderlust’.”
“I guess you’re right.”
“I’m always right.” He replies.
“Not really,” I laugh.
“Oh? When?” He asks, curiosity in his voice.
“Like the time you told us that the fox clan in Oregon didn’t use drugs to reduce most of the population to babbling idiots.”
“Ah, well, who knew that Marijuana would be so popular with the humans? It’s actually quite entertaining, some of them.” He laughed at this, before continuing. “Well, Miss Grant. It was a pleasure having this conversation with you. See you tonight at the outdoor theatre. Casual wear is fine, by the way.” With another click, he hung up and I felt like a headache was coming on.
