Let's Be Alone Together | Jamily
Officially, Emily Waites only had a single full-time job. Her job as curator at the art museum was the only one she was paid for, taxed on, given health care benefits, the whole nine yards. It was lovely, everything she'd ever wanted to do with her life.
Unfortunately, life had dropped another full-time job in her lap, too: taking care of Jameson Mercer.
Not that she minded that much, really. They'd been friends essentially her entire life. It was just times like today when it was nearly impossible to contact him that it felt like she was attempting to wrangle a small toddler. If Emily had wanted that, she would have a small child in her life.
Not just a thirty year old man who acted like one.
You've reached the voice-mail box of... Cash, baby ....leave your message at the tone then hang up or press pound for more options.... BEEP.
"Jameson Mercer, for the last time your name is not Cash! I have no idea why you think that's even cool. It's stupid and sounds pretentious. Besides, I thought I changed your voice-mail message last week to something, you know, actually professional as this is your professional line, if you remember correctly! This is ridic--you know what, it's not a big deal." She sighed, ruffling a hand through her pin-straight red hair and looked out the window of her office towards the park.
Emily might not consciously have been doing so, but her eyes flickered over the children at the playground, absently searching for a flash of red hair. She'd promised James that she'd stopped looking for Annalise years ago. But the temptation was always present. After all, she just wanted to see her. Make sure she was okay, was loved the way she couldn't have been with her birth parents.
With a shake of her head, Emily turned away from the window and began shoving things into her briefcase, tucking the phone between her shoulder and ear.
"I was just calling because I've been trying to get a hold of you for the past five hours to remind you that we've got that private showing at the museum tonight. You know, that whole big Renoir acquisition that I've been working on for years now. Only a little bit important for the museum" and maybe me too, she thought before barreling on. "Just a minor detail, right? And, as you made the idiot decision to buy this place, you're supposed to show up."
She flung her purse and briefcase over her shoulder, gathering up the last of the paperwork she needed before heading home and putting on that expensive dress she always hated after probably shoving a peanut butter sandwich in her face because she won't have time to even think about food while juggling twenty different problems.
"So I swear to god, James, if you're in New York right now, goofing off again instead of getting ready for this event, I'm going to start forwarding all your important calls to Jerry in accounting--and who knows what decisions he'll make for you. He's got less business sense than you do, which is saying something. See you at the showing... or else."
The woman let out another sigh, tossing her phone in her purse and heading towards the front door and freedom when she heard her name being called and let out a soft groan.
"Really? What happened now? Please tell me the situation is at least just DEFON 4. I can't deal with anything higher than that right now." Emily replied as she slowly turned, praying to God that it was only a small disaster. She didn't have time for anything else.