The Blood Heiress

Internship Begins

Adella

Ben dropped me off in the alley behind the gallery. There was a door that required a code he had given to me with a run down over all the bullet points for today. He waited for me to enter the building and then promptly left. The black luxury car stuck out like a sore thumb in the back alleys.

According to Ben, my new boss was a man by the name of René Gaultier. He had run this business for the Russo’s for the past decade and had worked up through the ranks to curator during that time. As far as Ben was concerned, René was the ideal employee. Did as he was told, questioned very little, showed up and provided a profit and exposure to the higher societal circles for the Russo name. I punched in the code and opened the door to a rather bleak back hallway.

I was to meet with René before my shift started and I was to find him in his office off the gallery floor. I still wasn’t clear on what an intern at such a place was supposed to do but I was about to find out. René’s door was clearly marked as the curator’s office and a polite rap on it was met with a stiff “come in”. I entered quickly and scoped out his office as I waited for him to acknowledge my presence.

“You must be the new intern,” His eyes traveled perfunctorily over me uninterested and detached. He was a short, graying and rotund middle-aged man. “I see that you are dressed the part. I wonder if you have any experience in a gallery.” He was wearing a well-made suit that looked out of place in his messy office.

“Not much, I am an after all an intern. I am here to learn.” I responded and quickly learned that was not looked upon favorably by observing his displeased expression.

“Let’s hope you are a quick learner. You showed up early today, you should continue to do so. Your hours on the floor are from 10-4 each day you are scheduled. I expect you to be ready to be on the floor at ten not showing up at ten understood?”

“Yes.” I nodded to punctuate my understanding.

“Good, now about your daily routine. There really isn’t one” He smiled self-indulgently. “You will need to check the clipboard that I will have for you hung up here by the door. Each day, I will have a checklist of activities and responsibilities that you need to attend to. Once the checklist is finished, you may come and ask me if anything new has come up." He paused and wrote something down and then looked back up. "Following along still?”

“Yes”

“Wonderful. Lastly, there two rules for all my intern. First, you are not to be on the gallery floor when customers are present and/or we are open. Unless requested by me or either of the gallery assistants. And second, you are to never touch the art on display. Again, unless I request you to do so. Can you abide by those rules?”

“Absolutely” I smiled to convey confidence in my ability to follow the transparent guidelines.

“It does seem like such a forgone conclusion, but you would be surprised how many interns I have had to can because they couldn’t follow those two rules. I mean the job is to be an intern! Why would I have an intern on the floor. Honestly,” He shook his head ruefully and looked distressed. I made a mental note to not go near the floor. There was an awkward silence in the conversation at this point while I took my sweet time realizing he was expectantly staring at me.

“Quite the disappointment to hear that....my fellow interns couldn’t follow such simple directions.” I seemed to appease him with my words and his smile was instant and wide.

“I am glad you see it that way. Here is your clipboard you may get to work. I will come and check in on you when I am finished here.” Relieved the one-sided conversation was finished I eager grabbed the clipboard and turned to leave the office.

“Oh, and Miss Smith,” I looked over my shoulder towards René once more. “I reward those that please me and fulfill their duties well.” His toothy grin sent a shiver down my spine. The vibe he was giving off now was not pleasant in the least. I managed a lopsided grin amid my unsettled feelings and quickly left.

The gallery opened itself at 10am and it was nearly that time, so I made sure to find a quick exit off the gallery floor before I was fired. The hallway to my right looked promising. I ventured down it and came to a large loading bay full of crates and boxes. This place looked as good as any here to sit and go over my list of to-dos.

At first glance the list was quite long, I overcame my natural aversion to a list that was long enough to take me into tomorrow and began reading. It appeared to be the product of someone who liked everything to be just so. Each step was a breakdown of many smaller steps. Easy enough to follow and absolutely necessary given how hands off he chose to be as my manager. His list said that any intern must do things a certain way, but his management style said he couldn't be bothered. That chafed a little, no wonder he had been through so many interns. Menial labor didn't scare me, it was nothing that I wasn't used to, but if I wasn't trying to fulfill some ambiguous requirements to regain my family's legacy, I wouldn't stick it out with René. I refocused my attention on understanding my tasks. The first item of business was getting acquainted with the building. Second was to locate the packing slip and verify that all was received as intended. While the first step was a bit straightforward the second step took up a whole page of explanation and direction. I decided to get to work on it, the first one would naturally fulfill itself the longer I was here.

The crates required a crowbar, easily located thanks to René’s notes and the well labeled loading dock. I spent the next few hours opening the crates, verifying the contents were as they should be and then pounding them shut. I was sweating thoroughly and had to pull back my carefully styled hair by the time I reached the sixth one. So much for dressing for success. After the last crate had been checked in and resealed, I decided to take a break to rest my jello like upper appendages. Sweaty, thirsty and a little irritable at how unprepared I was for what my first day entailed, I sat and marinated in my minor irritation. Ten minutes of recovery and I decided to see what was next on the list. Step 3: Report Back to Mr. Gaultier. Gathering my strength, I ducked into the staff bathroom in the hall that connected the gallery to the loading bay and girded myself to the damage that awaited me in the mirror.

I fixed up my appearance as well as I could manage. Which involved removing most of my make-up and leaving my hair pulled back. I skirted the edges of the gallery as there were a few customers mingling and went straight to his frosted glass door. I froze when I heard low voices angrily conversing one the other side. I was stuck between whether I should politely knock or wait and return for longer than I should have been. The voices grew even more heated. I remained rooted, undecided on the next course of action. If any of the gallery patrons chanced to see me, they must surely have thought I was brain dead. One of the voices grew louder as it moved closer to the door and spurred me into action. I galvanized my body into action and had swung it around to leave when the door rattled swiftly open. Caught in an awkward position of not being far enough away to look nonchalant, I cringed. I immediately turned around and the back of a tall, broad-shouldered man greeted me. His blonde hair was cut in a fresh style, and he wore an expensive coat. He continued to linger in the doorway, his hand on the handle as he and René continued their intense conversation. Given a window of opportunity, I quickly tried to act like I was just coming up on the scene.

“René, I have no use for your excuses. I want those artifacts we previous discussed and I paid for, located. This is a breach in contract.”

“I don’t think that we should go so far as to label this little mishap as such quite yet.” I stifled a laugh at René’s plaintive whine in response to the man’s displeasure. Judging by the way the man's shoulders tensed, it seemed that it only served to worsen the situation.

“Oh, and how would you label this situation?” The man’s voice was quietly commanding, and the room filled with his words.

“Simply a misunderstanding between my supplier and my transporter. They will show up soon.” René’s voice held a note of fear that he tried to cover with arrogance.

“You have two weeks more, which is more than generous. I could have any other dealer in this city get me what I wanted twice over in that timeframe,” He turned to face me, no surprise at my presence registering on his face. His icy eyes looked over me momentarily before resting on my face. I tried for a small and wobbly smile; it was the best I could manage. His whole demeanor was cold and demanded respect. A sharp, clean-shaven jawline, prominent cheekbones and a strong nose gave the overall impression of someone unattainable.

“Good day, Mr. Gaultier.” He pushed out the farewell as if it pained him to trade pleasantries with the curator. He nodded at me finally taking his eyes off my face and strode towards the exit. I couldn’t help but watch him leave, his long strides steeped in purpose. The other gallery goers caught his exit and whispered amongst themselves.

“Have you finally finished?” René’s voice was sharp with misplaced frustration, I knew it was not my fault but internally winced all the same.

“Yes, all shipments have been verified against their packing slips. Everything has arrived that was expected.” I walked to where he was seated behind his desk and handed over the slips, my clear initials next to each item I had verified.

He let out a sigh of relief. “One less thing to worry about.” He snatched the slips from my hand and turned around in his chair to file them in the cabinet against the wall.

“Who was that?” René looked over his shoulder and looked at me in disbelief.

“Oh Miss Smith, to think you don’t know who that is, I mean I do not expect that you have met personally before but surely you know of Evander Santos. You must have heard of him. At least you had to have heard of Santos Industries.” My eyes widened in recognition, satisfied that I was not living under a rock, René turned his attention back to finding the correct file.

“Santos Industries? You mean the one who makes consumer goods?”

“Yes, he is the founder and CEO.” René swiveled to face me. “It is two-thirty now. You took longer than I expected and will not be able to complete the rest of the list. I need you to work faster in the future. I don't have the patience to deal with ineptitude of this magnitude today.” He steepled his fingers and fixed a disappointed look on me.

“I will try my best. I did not know I was going to be doing so much physical work. I would have worn something different if I had.” I motioned at my clothing in a plea for understanding.

“This is a very coveted and prestigious internship Miss Smith. It can connect you with the likes of people such as Mr. Santos. I cannot guarantee what your to-do list will entail from day to day only that you must be prepared for any occasion. If that is going to be too difficult for you, then I suggest you join the dozens of interns that have been eaten up and spit out so far. I am sure that the corner market has openings to fill with a much steadier list of activities to count on each day.” His face held a smug smile. Model employee my foot! I fumed mentally. Ben obviously had spent very few meaningful moments with this man.

“That won’t be necessary Mr. Gaultier. I will be better prepared tomorrow.” I managed to reassure him through clenched teeth. He hardly noticed my irritation. Instead, he stood up and moved to grab his jacket and clipboard.

“See that you are. You are finished for the day as I have no other use for you.” He breezed past me and then paused on the other side of the doorway. “Be sure to shut my office door Miss Smith. Until tomorrow”

I hung my clipboard on its peg, grabbed my lunch bag that hadn’t even been touched and requested Ben to come pick me up.

To his detriment, Ben had been curious about my first day and I may have given him more than he bargained for. While it felt good to have someone ask me about my day, I may have all too readily filled him in without prejudice, every part of my day. He all but confirmed it as he offered his stock condolences and then switched the subject. The rest of the drive was spent catching me up on what had been going on at the mansion, it was my duty to be up to date after all. I listened and took mental notes while I ate my lunch. The most notable item on a rather normal and mundane list of updates was that Mr. King was back on duty. Followed closely by a shopping date had been arranged to finally fill out my wardrobe. By the time we reached the estate my arms were failing from the workout the internship had given them. I was hardly unable to lift them high enough to remove my shirt and I was dying for a hot shower to get the sweat off of me. With some effort and wincing I managed to get it off and welcomed the chance to decompress and unwind. I let the hot water wash over my abused upper arms and hands for the majority of the shower while I worked on getting my hands clear of splinters. I would have to make sure to grab some gloves for my shift tomorrow.

With my hands cleared and my arms pleasantly massaged, my mind wandered and settled on Evander Santos, CEO. I had never met someone in such a position of power before, though to be honest we hadn't really met. My cheeks flushed at the thought of what had transpired; him staring at me coolly while I tried to keep a small wobbly smile on my face. Was I always destined to feel so completely out of my depth in front of men? Attractive men especially? The heat began to feel overwhelming, and I decided to get out of the shower and that point and head to bed. As I drifted off, I remembered about the shopping trip and made a mental note to let Verity know. I would definitely need her help with picking out what I needed. It would be good to see her again. Good to spend some time together.