Chapter I - Working Late
I'll never forget that Friday night when everything changed. After nearly three years of working for you I thought I knew all there was to know about you. Not that it was a big mystery or anything. There was a story about you in the paper pretty much every week. You were a darling of the media. Young and beautiful. Smart and sexy. Driven and dedicated to your work; to helping people better themselves. You were amazing. I was in awe of you. I couldn't believe it when you hired me as your assistant. Some men would've felt strange or even emasculated by taking a job as an assistant to a younger woman. I knew I had an opportunity to both learn so much from you and become an integral part of something incredible.
Before I got the job I had just sort of been drifting along. Working a variety of different jobs with no real direction or plan for my life. That changed quickly because of you. Though I was hired as your ASSISTANT, you saw promise in me and I was soon doing much more than organizing your notes and running to Starbucks. I was essentially the second in command of a fast growing empire. The job wasn't easy. It took up almost all of my time. But that was fine for me, I really had no family or friends and it had been years since I had a girlfriend. It got lonely from time to time but you and I spent so much time together I had fallen very deeply in love with you. You never showed any signs of feeling anything for me, but I didn't care, whether you realized it we did play an important part in each other's lives. It was enough for me. Well, that and the occasional prostitute.
It was the end of a very long week. We had all been working 18 hour days to get your latest project ready for next week's opening. This was easily your greatest accomplishment, which is quite a statement considering all the amazing things you had already accomplished in the city. So many accomplishments that the media had dubbed you the 'Queen of The City'. One recent Hour Magazine article claimed that you, still only in your mid twenties, held more power and influence in this city than the mayor himself. At 19, while still a student, you managed to turn a modest investment into a very lucrative real estate deal just off of the riverfront. Three buildings, purchased for next to nothing, converted to lofts and shops. From there you were able to expand from three buildings to two blocks. Your stunning good looks and charmed personality helped garner the eye of the media and attract young people from the surrounding suburbs in droves. Your lofts and subsequent apartment complex were full in only a few years, with a waiting list of others looking to become a part of an envigorated urban renewal.
You had also helped to employ many people in need, and two years ago you invested in six blocks of blighted and half burned houses, demolishing it all and creating a new neighborhood of affordable housing. You weren't content to simply turn a profit, which you most certainly did, you took the money you were making and injected it back into the city. You were motivated by an incredible desire to help and revitalize a once bustling metropolis. You weren't going to be happy until it returned to the days of its glorious history.
This newest endeavor, however, was something entirely unprecedented. Two facilities unlike anything the world had ever seen. Communities for the impoverished that would change the entire concept of homeless shelters. Not just a place for cots and hot meals, but for job training and employment. People would be welcomed in, cared for medically, taught the necessary job skills and put to work to pass the opportunity along to others in the same situation. From making clothes and food to building and administrating homes, shelters, and education centers. And while the initial investment of capital was substantial, based on all projections the facilities would be entirely self sustaining and self funded in five years. The impoverished wouldn't just be given handouts and tucked away off the streets, they would become better people and feel good about the opportunity by being able to work for everything they got.
It was a lot of work, but at no point did you ever seem tired. Despite any roadblocks or red tape, (of which there were many) you faced each challenge with a smile and your unrivaled brand of determined charm and bravado. You knew you were amazing, though you never took yourself too seriously. You just steadily accomplished any goal you set out to achieve. I fed off of that energy and my own personal drive to make you happy. We were a great team; you were convinced you could accomplish anything and I was ready to do anything for you.
I had just finished the last of my press releases and made my way out of my office. The rest of the floor we occupied was empty. It looked like even you had gone home already, which was a shock. You technically lived in one of your lofts along the riverfront but I don't believe you could've spent more than 35 hours a week there. There had been many occasions when I came in early in the morning to find you in your office, still wearing the same clothes from the previous day. You were the very definition of workaholic, and for some reason I found this character trait to be incredibly sexy. I walked past the desk of Natasha the receptionist and hit the down button of the elevator. I envied your seemingly limitless energy, I was exhausted and couldn't wait to get home and collapse in bed. I had been planning on calling 'Julie', the hooker I had been 'seeing' lately. She looked, quite deliberately, a lot like you and after 18 hours a day of working with you I was looking forward to releasing some of the pressure that had built up. But I knew it would just be a waste, I would be asleep before she even got to my apartment.
As I walked through the massive parking garage to my very distant parking spot I reached in my pocket and realized I had left the keys to my car on my desk. The thought of having to walk all that way back made me contemplate shattering the window and hot wiring the damn thing. But I turned around and slowly made my way back: across the garage, into the elevator, back to the 17th floor.
The floor was silent other than the distant sound of a vacuum cleaner and all the offices were dark. All but the big one at the end of the hall. It looks like I was wrong, you hadn't gone home yet. I wasn't terribly surprised by this, although it did make me sad for a moment. I'm not sure if it was the fact that I felt bad that even after the long week we had just had you still couldn't pull yourself away and get some very much needed rest or if it was a feeling of disappointment that you hadn't asked me to stay with you. As exhausted as I was, I would never say no to a chance to be around you.
My office was next to yours so after grabbing my keys I figured I would stop by and make a futile attempt to convince you to call it a night, though what I really wanted to do was ask you out for a drink. I cursed myself for not having the confidence to do it and quickly convinced myself it was a stupid idea anyway and then grabbed the handle to your office door. Locked.
I looked through the small window next to the door and I didn't see you. You must've just forgotten to turn the light off, it wouldn't have been the first time. I turned to once again make the long trek out to my car but something caught my eye. Two shoes, not just shoes, two feet sticking out from the side of your desk and judging from their juxtaposition, the person wearing them was lying on the floor. I knew the shoes were yours and a sense of panic washed over me.I wrapped loudly on the glass but the feet remained motionless.
'Shes finally done it!, I thought. 'Worked herself to death.' On the eve of your greatest achievement you were alone in in your locked office, dying on the floor.
"Bernadette!" I shouted, but i knew it was pointless...the door was soundproof. The only door like it on the floor, you had recently had it installed along with a few other upgrades to your office. I wasn't sure the extent or point of the modifications and had made no attempt to inquire. I just knew about the sound proof door and a dividing fold out screen and massage table.
I banged again on the window as loud as I could. Still nothing. I turned and shot like a rocket back to my office and picked up my phone to dial 911. There was no dial tone and then I remembered that a new telecommunications system was being installed in the building this weekend. I pulled my cell phone from my pocket and hit 911. Nothing; no bars. I never had much luck on this floor with regards to reception. Luckily my office, like yours, had a small balcony attached to it. I would go out there to smoke and send texts.
I unlatched the doorwall behind my desk and stepped out on to the balcony and dialed again. Still nothing, I held the phone up in the air as if being that extra foot closer to the cell tower would make the difference. I looked over at your balcony and doorwall. I could see your body on the floor. You were clutching your lower abdomen. I could just barely make out your face. Thankfully, you were conscious, but by the look on your face I could tell things weren't right. You seemed to be whimpering in pain.
