Billy Hyde
"I don't care if you show up with your grandmother's Chihuahua wrapped in a pink boa. You will be there, with a date on your arm and a smile on your face." William Price Hyde stood at the end of the conference table in front of a large screen that projected a digital version of the gala brochure. "It's all hands on deck. Three months of preparation, over a million dollars invested. If we don't rake in 100 million dollars, it's not because we didn't try. Everyone will be there, everyone."
I didn't know if I was supposed to be wearing the pink boa or if Gram's Squeakers was, but, it was pretty much a given that the second everyone in that little dramatic spiel from my father was meant for me. I slouched down in the plush leather seat and kicked the mahogany base of the conference table. Mary Mitchum, my father's long-time executive assistant gave me the stink eye. I rolled my eyes at her then grabbed the Gala brochure.
* * *
"So? You going?"
I looked at Rand like he'd asked me if the world was round. “Am I going? What do you think?" The brochure was rolled up and I was peering through it like a pirate's spyglass. "And I have half a mind to bring Squeakers wrapped in a pink boa just to spite the old man."
"Or...." Rand held up a finger. "Maybe it's time you burned that bridge. Bring a real date. Cut the apron strings!”
“Apron strings?”
Rand waved a hand at me as if the point was irrelevant. “It's invigorating. Freeing. Unburden yourself." Rand was my executive assistant. Truthfully, he was my college roommate who needed a job after his dot-com venture became a dot-com fiasco. His father refused to finance his gallivanting around the country to find the next big thing. So, I hooked him up with something to keep him occupied. He sucked as an executive assistant, which was why I had Bex.
Bex was the greatest thing since sliced bread. She practically read my mind and put up with Rand, recognizing just what and who he was; a silver spoon-fed mess with potential. Plus I think she had the hots for him. Though she wouldn't admit it.
"Where's Bex?" I studied Rand. He wasn't trying to nudge me out of my glass closet. It was no secret that I was gay, but my father was a firm believer in keeping personal and business separate. And my sexuality was definitely in the personal column.
I looked around my office through the rolled-up brochure and out the office door into the secretarial pool. "Ay! Thar she blows!" I tossed the brochure into the wastebasket next to my desk. "BEX!"
Becca Hardcastle scowled in my direction.
"Bex!" I beckoned with both arms.
I'm surprised she put up with me as well as she did. I'd had several other assistants before Bex, and none of them seemed to work out longer than a month. Bex had been with me for over a year and while she'd threatened to leave me high and dry, I knew it was all bluster.
She stood in the office doorway. "Hey. You know, there's this thing. It's called an intercom. Just push that little yellow button right there and like magic; the phone on my desk rings; you can hear me and I can hear you and you don't have to act like a Neanderthal just brought in from the Pleistocene.” Bex originally majored in geology and archaeology.
I loved getting her riled up. Her tirades were delightful. And no matter what, I was always a Neanderthal.
"Did you want something?" Bex growled like one of the dinosaurs she might have dug up were she an archaeologist.
"As a matter of fact, I did. Please”. I smiled, gesturing toward the plush chair in front of my desk magnanimously.
Bex put her hands on her hips and waited.
"Could you come in and sit down?” I leaned forward and whispered. “It's a sensitive matter."
Bex could roll her eyes like nobody's business. Whole conversations could be said with a roll of her eyes. That never stopped her from voicing her opinion. "I told you. I am not gonna smuggle you beers in here. You want beer, get it your damned self. I'm an executive assistant, not a waitress. You're grown men, though that..." She gave me a cursory glance.
I waved a hand at her. "It's nothing like that." I raised my eyebrows expectantly, nodding to the seat in front of my desk again. "Just... Come in and sit. Please."
She took a tentative step into the office, saw Rand, and scowled. "Nice to see you made it in today."
"D'you miss me?" Rand smiled and patted one leg, offering her a seat in his lap.
"Like a lobotomy." She sat in the chair, her arms crossed. She eyed Rand out of the corner of her eye before turning back to me. "So, what idiotic thing do you want?"
"I need you to get me a date."
Bex stood and threw her hands in the air. "I'm not a waitress. And I sure as hell am not a..." She headed to the door, then turned back to me. "Why don't you look in the back of the Chronicle? I'm sure there are plenty of 800 numbers you can call for a date."
"I don't know what I'm getting.” But with you…” I shrugged. "It's for the gala. You know how my father is. He's expecting me to toe the line, but I've decided," I nodded toward Rand. "I need someone special. Someone perfect. Someone my father wouldn't approve of."
Bex opened her mouth to respond but then clapped it shut. She looked at Rand and then at me. "A date?"
I nodded.
"A real date?"
I nodded again.
"And when I say real date, you're going to treat him right, not like an accessory?" She asked though it was more a statement with dire consequences attached. She sat back down slowly, studying the wall behind my desk, as if some mental checklist were posted next to the staid muted art. "Will there be extracurricular activity?" She smiled smartly, her mind made up. "Cuz you know that'll cost extra."
I returned her smile. "Is it a date, otherwise?"
Bex muttered something under her breath.
"What?" I leaned forward because I knew there was more. I looked at her expectantly.
"Neanderthal." She rose from her seat and composed herself, straightening her cream-colored blouse, and picking a piece of lint off the smart black slacks. "I know just the person. Will there be anything else, Mr. Hyde?"
"No, MS. Hardcastle."
Rand and I watched her leave my office. He quirked a smile.
The black phone on my desk beeped. I pushed the blinking button.
"AND USE THE DAMN INTERCOM!" Bex disconnected abruptly.
Rand burst out laughing. “Have I mentioned how much I like her?”
I looked at the calendar on my desk. The date of the gala was marked in red; marked and circled and highlighted, an inky scene of mayhem. I was sure it wasn't like that when I went to the meeting. Apparently, Mary had talked to Bex to make certain I wouldn't forget. If I knew Bex, I'd shortly be getting a notification on my phone that my online calendar had been updated. I felt my phone vibrate in my coat pocket.
I pressed the intercom while speaking to Rand. "I'm hungry. Are you hungry? Think we can get Bex to ..."
I don't know if staplers were meant to be used that roughly, but Bex banged away several times before dead silence filled the secretary pool. She didn't bother speaking into the intercom but spoke loudly. "I'm not a damned waitress."
I looked at Rand. "Maybe we should just go out."
Rand nodded wisely. "You're probably right. " He grabbed his jacket off the rack and threw it on.