Soul To The Highest Bidder Ch 02

I watched, amused, while a huffy, red faced Ms. Whitecliff marched out of Mr. Morrison's office. She walked with her nose up in the air and with perfect posture, like she had had a poker permanently planted up her ass.

Looking completely livid, she turned to me and scathingly declared, "I cannot and will not work with that man. I don't care how much he pays. I will not do it. You will just have to find someone else. Goodbye"

I watched her attempt to slam the door after her, on her way out, only to be thwarted by the doors hydraulic hinges. I giggled. Well, I guess that didn't go so well. I didn't really know what any of that was about anyways; however, I was about to learn.

I heard the door open to Mr. M's office. I swung around in my chair, wide eyed, to see Mr. Morrison standing there reading over some important document or report, as per usual.

"Miss Tanner, it seems I have lost my translator. I need you to find me a new one today; and, try to find someone a little more agreeable." he said before going back into his office.

I sat in stunned disbelief. A translator. I couldn't believe my luck; but, how to approach this, that was the problem. I knew that it was outside my job description, but I had wanted this my whole life. I just hoped Mr. M would be as psyched about -- or at least as accepting of - the idea as I was. I would just have to convince him this would be more economical - that was my best course of action. I was already an employee on payroll, and I was familiar with his schedule and contacts. I hopped up out of my chair confident in my purpose; but, that didn't stop me from breaking out into a nervous sweat. Truth be told I was scared shitless; what if he said no? Rolling my shoulders, I took three deep breathes, organized my thoughts and purposely marched into Mr. M's office. My courage could only take me six steps into his office, before his terrifying gaze stopped me. I almost lost my train of thought under his intense glare.

"Yes, Miss Tanner? Do you have another property for me to look at?" he asked mockingly.

"No. I, uh, I umm. Well, Mr. Morrison I, uh..." I stopped, took a deep breath and swallowed, and started over, "Mr. Morrison, I would like to offer the use of my services, as a translator, while you are in France."

I stood with my hands behind my back waiting for some sort of response. His expression never changed, and his scrutinizing glare never once faltered. I averted my eyes to the floor, unnerved by his penetrating gaze.

"Do you have any experience Miss Tanner?" his eyebrows arrogantly cocked, " These are very important people we will be dealing with. I can't have you fucking this up, there is no room for error."

"I do not have experience, sir; but, I do have my Masters in French Studies and speak the language fluently." I closed my eyes, fearfully expecting him to dismiss the idea and fire me on the spot for wasting his time.

"Well, I suppose it would work. But, I can't take you to France looking like you do here," he said dissaprovingly, "I will give you a ten thousand dollar clothing budget for this trip. Contact Deborah to help arrange and help select your wardrobe. I expect you to get everything you need for this trip with that money; and, I expect you to be presentable. Consider it an early Christmas bonus. Now, would that be all Miss Tanner?"

I could hear the dismissal in his tone.

"No sir. Thank you so much sir. You won't regret this." I turned and walked to the door, a huge smile plastered on my face.

From behind me, as I grabbed the door handle, his voice menacingly warned, "You better not, or you won't have job to come back to."

My smile quickly vanished. Nothing like a good reality check to dampen a mood. Good old Mr. Morrison, he always knew how to smother happiness.

I met Deborah Coultier everyday for lunch, for the next week. She took me to the most ridiculously expensive and posh stores in the city, explaining what styles were in fashion in France, what styles were appropriate for the different occasions, what colors looked best on me and how to mix and match pieces. She was basically teaching me how to have a sense of style, which was like Greek to me. I think I stood a better chance learning Greek; at least I already had an understanding of it. I also had to buy all the traveling accouterments with that money, since I had never traveled before. I don't include shuffling between foster homes travel, especially since I had never had anything to take with me. Deborah also arranged for my passport, so that I would have it in time to leave on the 21st. Everything seemed so surreal and rushed but I managed to complete all my duties, as Mr. Morrison's assistant, and prepare for the upcoming trip.

It wasn't until the night before our flight, while I stood looking over all my purchases and designer luggage, that it truly hit me. I was finally going to France. I didn't care that I was going to be in a foreign country for Christmas; it made no difference to me where I spent the empty holidays. A whole month being submersed in my favorite culture was the best Christmas present I could ever have. Who knew it would be the Scrooge, Mr. Morrison, who gave me the best gift that I had ever received. I slowly and methodically packed my bags, making sure that I had everything I needed, before finally stripping down, crawling into bed and falling into an exhausted sleep.