I had decided against saying anything about Thea. It would just sound too unbelievable. Maybe I'd go see Mission Impossible-- you know, get some ideas on spying protocol?
For now, I would have to rely on my own operative talents so with my eyes staring pensively at my feet, I knocked assuredly on her door.
"Come on in."
Her designer bifocals sat delicately on the bridge of her nose, whisking them off as I walked in. I alone was the one who saw L'Atrice wearing her bifocals, and it was an unspoken rule not to mention them along with the anti-aging cream she would neurotically rub into her maturing hands.
"Good morning, L'Atrice."
"You're here early," she chirped.
"Would you like some coffee? I just made a fresh pot of French Roast and Kona blend." I smiled benignly.
"No, thanks I'm okay." She went back to reading her People magazine, the best and worst dressed issue, to see if any of our designs had made it. Even if one of our dresses was on the worst list, it was good advertisement -- something I never understood.
"Are you sure?" I added.
"What's up Fran?"
"Well, I am glad you asked because I've been feeling really bad about my behavior here."
She froze.
"And I just wanted to say that's not really me and I am...sorry about everything." Maybe I wouldn't win an Oscar, but I could have possibly been nominated for a People's Choice.
"Really?" She wasn't going to swallow this shit that easily.
I took a deep breath. "How about I prove it? I'll come in early and leave late from now on. I'll have your sketches out and ready for you by daybreak and cleaned up and put away in the evening. I'll have you so organized, it'll take you no more than two seconds to find anything. Just give me a chance to show you that I am willing to do anything to insure my loyalties with Tigre Designs."
Now that was pretty thick and my eyebrows perked, waiting to see how much bullshit this over-aged southern gaunt bell would take.
"Well, now this is surprising. Why the change of heart?"
"Well..."
"You know what? I don't want to know. I've been working on not questioning positive things, so I won't question your devotion. I accept your apology-- I've trying to work on that in therapy, too," she added.
She should be working on doing the apologizing-- not me-- but with all of my concentration I just kept my mouth shut.
"How about I start with setting you up for the day?"
"Great!" She was a little over anxious.
"And where do you keep your sketches?"
"Oh, honey, I keep those locked in my desk. You don't have to worry about that, but if you could make sure all the major papers are on my desk each morning-- that would be a great start."
"All right." At least I knew where she kept the sketches.
"Oh, and if you could open the Wall Street Journal to my index and highlight my stocks that would be just fabulous. I'll make a list today. Oh, new beginnings are just so exciting, don't you think?"
I realized then that I had created a monster. I nodded and left the room.
