“That’ll be $5.63,” the cashier said.

It was a Wednesday morning, and the coffee shop was as busy as usual. The line was wrapped around the interior of the building and spilled out onto the sidewalk outside. The patrons ranged from college kids to businesspersons. Cordelia could’ve easily been mistaken for a college student who had just pulled an all-nighter studying for an exam. Her curly brown hair was doused in dry shampoo, yesterday’s mascara sat on her eyelashes, and she was dressed in sweatpants and a t-shirt. She fished her wallet out of her tote bag and handed the cashier her credit card. She sipped her vanilla latte, slightly burning the roof of her mouth, as the cashier ran her card. The machine beeped. 

“Ma’am your card was declined.”

Her lips pursed. “Can you try it again?”

The cashier took a deep, agitated breath and swiped the card again. The machine’s shrill beep signaled another decline. Sweat beaded on Cordelia’s forehead. Didn’t I just pay it off? She couldn’t recall the balance, but surely it was less than a thousand dollars. With her rent due next week and her savings dwindling with each passing day, it had to be. Cordelia looked to the continuously growing line behind her. There were several impatient expressions in the crowd.

“Do you have another form of payment?”

“Yeah, sure.” She opened up her wallet again, clumsily dumping out her loose change. “Sorry, I’ve got it, hang on…”

“Here, I’ll cover it,” a man said.

Cordelia turned around. He was tall, over six feet, and sported a black suit. Sunglasses sat atop his blond, curly hair. His eyes were a striking emerald-like green. He reached over Cordelia and handed his credit card to the cashier. His cologne was strong and earthy, but not overbearing. 

“Thank you,” Cordelia said.

He winked at her. “Don’t worry about it.”

The heat rushed to her cheeks. She gathered her loose change as quickly as she could and retreated to a corner table by the window. Several of the patrons watched her, their eyes quickly glanced in another direction when she met their gaze. Her stomach churned and suddenly the idea of a latte wasn’t appealing anymore. She regretted even leaving her apartment. At least at home she could’ve sat on the couch and hunted for jobs without being judged by anyone except for her roommate’s cat. She retrieved her laptop computer from her bag and set it on the table. As soon as she opened it up, the stranger took the vacant seat across from her.  The strong scent of his black coffee overpowered his cologne.

“Hello again,” he said.

“Um, hi.” Cordelia chewed on her lower lip. “Listen, I can totally pay you back for my coffee, I know I have cash here somewhere.”

He put his hand up. “That’s not necessary”.

“You sure?” 

“Positive. My name is Anderson by the way, but most people call me Andy.” He extended his hand to her. Awkwardly, she shook it. 

“Cordelia.”

“Nice to meet you Cordelia… Listen, I don’t want to come off as creepy or stalker-like, but I’ve seen you in here a few times. This isn’t the first time you’ve had issues paying for your coffee, is it?”

Great, I wonder how many people have noticed. Cordelia looked down at the table. As a recent graduate of Northwestern University, she had been struggling to find a stable job so she could afford to apply to graduate school and pursue a master degree in social work. It didn’t matter that she had graduated with honors, as most employers were interested in experience rather than a four-year degree, even for a simple desk job. To make matters worse, she recently was let go from her waitressing job at a local café. She had worked at the café for almost a year, but with her boss going through a nasty divorce, he had to make some budget cuts, and her job was one of them. It wasn’t the best paying gig, but it had been enough to keep her afloat.

“I mean, yes… but I’m, um, working on it.”

“Would you be interested in a job?”

 Her mouth fell open. “What?”

“You know, one of those things people do Monday through Friday, eight to five, sometimes nine to six.”

“Thank you for clarifying.” She rolled her eyes.

“Not a fan of jokes? I get it. I’ll be frank with you. I lost my personal assistant last week and I don’t have a lot of time to find someone to replace her. Actually, I need someone by the end of the day today really.”

“I don’t understand. Why would you want to even offer me a job? You don’t know anything about me.”

“To be honest, none of my interviewees so far have stood out and I’m running out of time. Plus I figured we were both in a bind here and could help each other out.” He looked down at his diamond encrusted Rolex watch. “Shoot, I’m going to be late. I have to go, but I hope you’ll consider my offer. We can hash out the details later.”

He retrieved a business card out of his pocket and passed it to her. Before she could protest, he was already gone, out of the coffee shop and running down the street. She looked at the plain card. It read, “Anderson J. Glass, Attorney at Law,” with his phone number typed below it.  That explains the Rolex. She set it down on the table and turned her attention back to her laptop. Indeed opened up to where she had left off the night prior, four pages deep into an administrative assistant job search. She squinted as she read one of the position’s description. Didn’t I already apply to this one? Maybe it was due to the lack of caffeine in her system, or due to the fact she had already applied to at least one hundred different jobs in the past few days, but they were all starting to sound the same.

Cordelia sighed as she shoved her laptop back into her bag and stood up. If she had been alone in her apartment, she would’ve screamed. She grabbed her latte and turned to leave, but hesitated. Anderson’s card was face down on the end of the table. She considered leaving it, but slipped it into her pocket in case she changed her mind. A chill ran down Cordelia’s spine as she exited the coffee shop. It was a little above fifty-degrees Fahrenheit and the wind was merciless. The typical Chicago scent, a mixture of gasoline, hot-dogs, and sweat from the tourists, was prevalent. Car horns, sidewalk chatter, and the crosswalk signals were deafening. Cordelia tossed the latte into a bin and started the three-block journey back to her apartment.

She never imagined she would be to the point that she couldn’t even afford a coffee, let alone a stranger taking enough pity on her to offer her a job. She could hear her grandmother, telling her how proud she was of her for moving half-way across the country to pursue her dreams. She was, at one time, considered the one who was going to make it. Where did it go wrong? It wasn’t like she was using her student loan money to go out and party every weekend or splurging on things she didn’t need with her former paycheck. She had been responsible, or at least she considered herself responsible. 

Hank, Cordelia’s elderly neighbor, sat on the outside steps in front of her apartment building. A thick, afghan blanket was draped over his shoulders. In one hand he held a quarter, his other a scratch-off lottery ticket. The smell of whiskey and stale cigarette smoke clung to him. 

“Morning, Delia. Do you think today is going to be the day?” his voice was hoarse. 

Cordelia forced a smile. “I sure hope so.”

He rubbed the coin against the card, an expectant look in his eyes, as Cordelia ascended the stairs. The interior of the building was poorly insulated. It invited in the cold outside air as well as Hank’s loud displeasure of yet another, losing ticket. The halls echoed with her footsteps, muffled televisions, and conversations intended to be kept behind closed doors. While the building was rich with history, it was severely lacking in privacy. The thought of the entire complex knowing her struggles was hard to stomach; however, most of the tenants pretended to be oblivious in regards to others’ business, so Cordelia tried not to think about it.

 Her apartment was on the third floor at the corner of the hallway. A faded welcome sign, courtesy of Hobby Lobby, was hung on the door. As soon as she opened the door, the smell of lavender enveloped her. Sebastian, her roommate’s black cat, jumped off the snagged fabric couch and ran over to her. He purred as he rubbed against her legs. Cordelia pulled Anderson’s card out of her pocket and examined it. This little card could be the answer to her prayers, but it could also be a one-way ticket to ending up as an unsolved murder mystery on Dateline. With her luck, it would be the latter. 

“Back already?” Margaret asked.

Margaret, an up-and-coming tattoo artist, was Cordelia’s longtime friend and current roommate. She stood in the kitchen, whisking pancake batter and fresh blueberries in a mixing bowl. She was the complete opposite of Cordelia: her short hair was dyed pink, tattoos practically covered every inch of her pale skin, and she was successful both financially and professionally. Cordelia slipped the card back into her pocket and took a seat at the kitchen counter. Sebastian followed her, still purring, and sat down by her feet.

“Yeah, I didn’t feel like being out.”

“You want some pancakes?”

Cordelia shook her head. “I’m not really hungry.”

“Suit yourself.”

Margaret poured the batter onto the griddle in two imperfect circles. She had a peculiar look on her face, one Cordelia didn’t recognize, and the air in the room shifted.

“Everything okay?” Cordelia asked.

“Couldn’t be better… I just, got some news about the job I applied for. The one I told you about, remember?”

Cordelia remembered all too well. Margaret had casually brought up several weeks ago that she was looking for a new tattoo parlor to work at. It didn’t seem like a bad idea, Margaret was talented artist, and needed a shop where she would be in higher demand and could build a loyal clientele. Her current employer, located in a shoe-box-sized building downtown, catered more to the drunk, get-a-tattoo-on-a-whim kind of customer, than the regular ink enthusiast. The only problem with the job she was interested in was the location, Atlanta.

“They offered me the job, and want me to start in two weeks.”

“That’s…. great.” Cordelia swallowed the massive lump in her throat. “When do you leave?”

“I haven’t accepted the job yet. I wanted to talk to you first before making any decisions.”

“Why? This is your dream job.”

“Because if I leave now, you’ll be left in a bind. There’s only one more month left on the lease. I don’t know if I could find another apartment or roommate within such a short span of time.”

Margaret forced the spatula underneath one of the pancakes. It was too soft, and tore as she flipped it over. 

“Margaret, don’t be silly, go call them right now. I would never let you put your life on hold because of me.”

“I can’t just abandon you…”

“Yes, you can. I will be fine. I actually accepted a job offer today.”

“What? Really?”

Cordelia nodded and smile slowly crept onto Margaret’s face. She dropped the spatula and ran over to Cordelia, frightening Sebastian. He fled to the living room as Margaret pulled her into a tight, suffocating hug.

“Thank you so much! I’m going to give them a call real quick! Can you finish the pancakes?”

Before she could even respond, Margaret was out of the room. Cordelia sighed and walked over to the griddle. Margaret’s door was closed but her excitement was evident from the inaudible phone conversation that seeped through the thin walls. She was happy for Margaret, but part of her wished she hadn’t taken the job, or at least stayed through the entire lease. Surely by then Cordelia would not only have a job, but perhaps a different roommate to help with the rent as well. Even if Cordelia did accept Anderson’s offer, she had no details of the salary and potentially could be unable to afford an apartment on her own anyway; however, any form of income, no matter how insignificant, would be better than nothing. The smell of burnt batter filled the air.

“Shit.” Cordelia quickly turned the griddle off and shoveled the overly-done pancakes onto a plate. 

Margaret came out of her room, smile still beaming, as Cordelia walked to the door. Anderson’s card felt heavy in her pocket, and her nausea was tenfold.

“Where are you going?” Margaret asked.

“To call my new boss.”

***

Anderson’s office was located in downtown Chicago, only a few blocks away from the courthouse. Cordelia arrived bright and early on Friday morning with a new-to-her briefcase she had picked up at the thrift store, a sack lunch, and her resume. She wasn’t sure what an assistant would wear, so she had chosen a simple button up blouse and black pencil skirt. Her hair was tamed with a hair tie. She stood outside the office, clutching her briefcase as she waited. Five minutes turned to ten, ten to twenty, and after thirty minutes, a short and chubby woman walked out of the office. She had an I-would-rather-be-anywhere-else-than-here expression on her face.

“Can I help you?” she asked brashly.

“Hi, yes, well, maybe. I’m Andy’s new assistant.” Cordelia shot her hand out to her, but the women didn’t take it.

“Right, Mr. Glass told me he hired someone to take Sharon’s place.” She sighed heavily. “Please follow me.”

Cordelia followed her inside, careful not to seem too eager. Her nerves were electric as the woman gave a quick tour. The office featured a small receptionist area, a room for Anderson to meet with clients, a bathroom not available to the public, a closet-size breakroom, and then Anderson’s office. It was modernly designed with dark grey flooring and charcoal-colored walls. The few prints on the walls were abstract black and white paintings that could’ve easily been done by a five-year-old. 

The woman knocked softly on Anderson’s door. “Mr. Glass, your new assistant is here.”

“You can let her in, Helen, thank you.”

Helen opened the door slightly, not even enough room for a cat to squeeze through, and walked off to rejoin her chair at the reception desk. Cordelia took a deep breath and forced a smile. She wasn’t going to let Helen, or anyone else for that matter, dampen her spirits. Anderson was sitting behind a large mahogany desk, barely visible behind his two computer screens and a thick stack of papers. The walls and floor were the same dreary shade as the rest of the office, but the walls were absent of any art. Only his college diplomas, all held in intricate wooden frames, were hung up. A second desk, considerably smaller than his and presumably where Cordelia would sit, sat in the corner. It had a single computer sat up and a framed picture likely left behind by the previous assistant.

“I’m glad you decided to join us.” He smiled, but it appeared somewhat forced. “Please take a seat.”

Cordelia sat down in the faux leather chair on the other side of his desk and placed her briefcase on her lap. She unlatched it and pulled her resume out while Anderson clicked on the keyboard. He seemed tired compared to when she had initially seen him. His hair was slightly unruly, and he had bags underneath his eyes. Cordelia set her resume at the edge of his desk and after a moment he picked it up.

“What’s this?”

“My resume.”

He set it back down. “That’s not necessary.”

“How will you know if I’m fit for the job without giving it at least a glance?”

“Listen, I’m going to be one-hundred percent honest with you here,” he rubbed his temples. “It’s a pretty simple job. If I need something, you go get it. If I have somewhere important to be, you make sure I get there on time. I need you to know my schedule by heart- down to the very last, insignificant coffee break. Helen has my itinerary up front for you, along with a card for approved purchases. That being said, you are allowed and expected to use the card for yourself as well when getting things like coffee or lunch.”

“So, I’m basically at your beck and call?” she wasn’t able to hide the disappointment in her tone.

 “No, I wouldn’t go as far to say that. Anyway, today I need you to go to the courthouse and pick up some documents regarding a case I’m working on. They already know you’re coming so it shouldn’t be an issue. I’d like you to bring a coffee on the way back as well. I expect you back in half an hour and not a minute later. Understood?”

Cordelia nodded, but she had a million questions running through her mind. Where exactly in the courthouse did she need to go? Was there a specific coffee shop preference he had in mind or would any old Starbucks do? Not to mention she still had questions about the job itself. She had no idea if the job was considered full or part-time, if benefits were an option or a ballpark figure of the salary. He had assured her over the phone she would be, “Well compensated,” but didn’t go into details or numbers. Quite frankly, with Margaret leaving, she needed a job and the details weren’t as important as the job itself. 

Anderson looked at her expectantly. “Are you waiting for something?”

“No.” She stood up. “Sorry.”

Her face was flushed when she left his office, but she hoped Helen wouldn’t notice. Part of her had hoped this was going to be more exciting than some ordinary desk job, given Anderson’s career; however, it appeared she was going to be nothing more than a glorified errand runner. She was half-way to the door when Helen obnoxiously cleared her throat. Cordelia stopped and turned to her.

“Forgetting anything?” Helen gestured to the thick black folder on the counter with a credit card sitting on top of it.

“Right, thanks.”

She rolled her eyes. “Wouldn’t it be nice if he had actually hired somebody qualified? Maybe next time…”

“Excuse me?”

Helen didn’t say anything, as if she hadn’t heard her or didn’t care to. Cordelia grabbed the folder and slipped the card into one of its pockets. She didn’t attempt to say anything else to Helen before she walked out the door. 

It was incredibly windy outside, and Cordelia hugged the folder to her chest as she walked. The sidewalks were busy and she had to weave her way through the crowd. She had passed the courthouse a few times, but never went inside or paid it any attention. It was a massive building with a white stone exterior and hundreds of windows. The inside was daunting with people swarming around like wasps. Anderson had said the courthouse, but not specifically where inside the courthouse. Out of habit, she reached for her phone in her skirt pocket before realizing it was locked up in her briefcase back at the office.

“Shit,” she muttered.

“Can I help you?” a young security guard asked. He must’ve known by her lost puppy like expression that she needed help.

“I really hope so. I’m Andy—I mean Anderson Glass’ new assistant. I was sent to retrieve some documents for a case he is working on.”

 “I wish I could say I’m surprised he has another new assistant.” He rubbed his chin. “You’re going to want to go to the clerk’s office. It’s on the second floor, first office to your right.”

“Thank you, you have no idea how helpful this is.”

She carefully maneuvered her way through the chaos, up the stairs and to the clerk’s office. Her small spark of hope fizzled out as soon as she walked inside. The line to the counter was worse than the line inside the coffee shop typically was, and appeared extraordinarily slower. 

“You have got to be kidding me.”

The round clock on the wall read nine-fifteen. She had less than twenty minutes to get back to the office.

Cordelia lightly tapped the elderly woman’s shoulder who was in front of her. “Um, would you mind if I cut in front of you? My boss expects me back soon, and it’s my first day, so I really need to make a good impression.”

The old woman snorted, and turned back around without a word. Cordelia felt the heat rush to the back of her head. Great. Make that my first and last day on the job.

“You can cut in front of me if you’d like?” a man towards the front of the line offered. 

“Really?” she asked.

He nodded. Afraid he might change his mind, she quickly walked over and stepped in front of him. Her heartrate increased, but it had more to do with the stranger’s looks than her approaching deadline. He was tall, like Anderson, but slimmer. His skin was tan, and his dark eyes matched his hair. Dressed in a suave suit, he looked more like a model than assistant to a lawyer.

“Thank you so much! You are a life-saver, like, seriously, I owe you big time.”

“Don’t mention it,” he cracked a smile that made Cordelia’s heart skip a beat. “I don’t think I’ve seen you around here before. My name is Vincent.”

“This is my first time, I just started working as a lawyer’s assistant. My name is Cordelia, but my friends call me Delia.”

“Nice to meet you, Delia. How about a drink sometime?” 

For once, Cordelia was speechless. If taking a job from a complete stranger wasn’t a one-way ticket to murder-town, grabbing a drink with one surely would be. 

“Here.” He grabbed her folder and scribbled at the top of the first paper inside. “Think about it, and give me a call.”

She was still struggling with what to say as he handed back the folder back to her. Part of her worried he had written on something important. After all, she hadn’t even gotten the chance to take a peek at the documents inside yet. 

“Ma’am? Ma’am how can I help you?” the clerk asked.

Cordelia had almost forgotten why she was in the courthouse in the first place. She took a deep breath, and turned to the clerk.

“Yes, I need to pick up some documents for Anderson Glass. He said you would be expecting me. I’m his new assistant, Cordelia Jenkins,” she said.

“Do you have any form of identification on you?”

“Yes.” Cordelia hastily retrieved her driver’s license from her skirt pocket and held it up for the woman to see.

“Right—just one moment.” The woman stepped away from the desk and through a side door. 

 “Oh, so you’re Anderson’s new assistant?” Vincent chuckled. “He always hires the pretty ones.”

Heat rushed to the back of Cordelia’s head. She could feel Vincent standing close behind her, his cologne covering her like a shroud. He could probably hear her heart beating out of her chest. She opened her mouth to say something, but nothing came out. Her thoughts were jumbled worse than the alphabet in Campbell’s soup. It felt like an eternity before the woman returned. She set a thick pile of documents on the desk that was at least six-inches high.

“It’s all of this? How am I supposed to carry this?”

The woman shrugged. “Please sign and date here to verify that you received these.”

Cordelia’s hand shook as she messily slapped her signature onto the page. Carefully, she lifted the stack. It was about as heavy as it was awkward to carry. Vincent gave her a parting nod, but she was still speechless. An elderly man was kind enough to hold the clerk’s door open for her. She couldn’t remember if she had thanked him or not. The only thing she was able to concentrate on was walking and the documents in her arms. She had to take the stairs slowly, eyes fixed on each step, so she wouldn’t accidently slip and fall. She knew if she fell, the papers would go everywhere and it would take at least a half-hour just to gather them all back up. Who knows how long it would take to try and put them back in order.

Her gait was more awkward than careful as she headed back towards his office. She was slightly hunched over the documents, and her arms were wrapped so tightly around them that they were numb. Her focus was on the path ahead of her and keeping her arms steady. The faces in front of her blurred together, as if her brain couldn’t handle processing anything else other than the task at hand. She hadn’t checked the clock before she left the courthouse, but she assumed she had less than ten minutes to meet the half-hour deadline. What was so important that they needed to be there within half an hour anyway? Was he naïve enough to believe she could handle this for her very first task?

Luckily for Cordelia, the office door was slightly ajar and she didn’t have to fumble with the door handle. Helen was behind the desk with a phone pressed against her ear. She wasn’t speaking, but every-so-often she nodded her head and tapped on the keyboard. Cordelia strolled by her, and stopped outside of Anderson’s door. Carefully, she shifted the documents onto her hip and knocked on the door. 

“Come in,” Anderson said.

He appeared to be in the exact same spot as he was when she left. The same focused, or more-like glazed over, expression was on his face. Cordelia sat the documents down on the edge of the desk and took a step back. She was impressed, albeit surprised, she had made it back within his time-frame. A small, relieved smile sat upon her face.

“Thank you.” Anderson smiled for the first time since the coffee shop. “You can bring the coffee in as well.”

Cordelia’s face fell. How could I have forgotten the coffee?

“I assume you located my usual order in the itinerary, and I believe Helen’s is in there as well. If not, that’s alright. I’m so caffeine deprived right now, I’ll drink whatever.”

“Yes, no worries—none at all, let me go grab it.”

Without waiting for his response, she turned around and rushed out of the office. The nearest coffee shop was about five minutes away, but if she ran, surely she could get there and back within a few minutes. Anderson wouldn’t even know she had forgotten, and it would make for a funny story later. It was only when she reached the welcome sight of the coffee shop’s sign, that she realized she had forgotten the itinerary with not only his order preference but his credit card as well. The folder was safely nestled underneath the mountain of court documents in his office.

“You have got to be kidding me.” Cordelia laughed. It wasn’t a joyous chuckle, no, it was the kind of laugh one would follow with tears. She threw her hands up in the air in defeat.

“Are you following me?” a familiar voice asked.

Cordelia turned to see Vincent. His eyes were hidden by sunglasses, but there was no mistaking his deep voice or well-tailored suit. Her gaze fell to the coffee he held in his right hand. Its aroma was strong enough to overtake the gasoline from a nearby taxi.

“Is that black coffee?” she asked.

“Yes,” he raised his eyebrow. “Why?”

Cordelia’s lips inadvertently curved into a smile.  “Do you remember that drink you offered me?”

He nodded, his expression still perplexed.

“I’m going to need to cash in on that, today—right now, actually.”

Before he could protest, she grabbed the coffee and flipped around. Vincent extended his hand as if to stop her, but she was already out of his reach. The coffee sloshed in the cup as she ran.

“I’ve already taken a few sips.” Vincent shook his head. “At least let me buy you a new one.”

“There’s no time,” Cordelia yelled, not bothering to look back. She pushed herself through the crowd and narrowly missed running into the door as she entered the commercial building. Sweat gleamed on her skin and her hair was wildly about. The tie that had previously kept her curls at bay was lost somewhere to the streets. Regardless, her face was beaming with pride. She held her head high and kept her shoulders back, not even bothering to look at Helen as she walked through the office’s lobby. Anderson’s door was still ajar, and it wasn’t apparent if he had moved at all while she was gone. 

“Here’s your coffee.” Cordelia smiled as she handed it to him. “It’s black, I hope you don’t mind, I forgot the itinerary.” 

“I actually prefer my coffee black, thank you.” Anderson’s eyes traveled from the coffee cup to Cordelia. Dark coffee stains were on the lid and matched a few blotches on her blouse. 

“Did anything happen I should know about?” 

 “Nothing out of the ordinary.” Cordelia took a seat. 

Anderson shrugged his shoulders and took a sip of the coffee. “Alright.”

---