Chapter 05 - Paris talks with Rhea

Even hedging my participation by telling Grace that I want to help but have to think about it doesn’t stop Grace from rushing me and almost bowling me over with her hug. When we’ve both settled down and taken our seats back in the living room I lean forward and begin to really think this through. “Look, I wanna help take this guy down. And you’re right, I think I can pass well enough to get the job done. But there’s like a big problem. You always joke about how I don’t do much work, but I have to hustle to get the jobs that I do. I need to be able to be free to take phone calls and sometimes meet models or agents on short notice. Even if I moved my shoots to the evenings, which I can’t because that’s when Tyrell uses the studio, I’d still find it hard to get the gigs if I’m holding down a nine to five job.”

Grace looks at me calmly for about thirty seconds before pulling back suddenly, “Wait, you’re serious? Money problems?”

I pull my hair back and sigh dramatically, “Look I know I don’t earn as much as you do but I work hard for my money. If I’m not doing it, I can’t make rent let alone food or all my other bills.”

Grace stands up, walks into her bedroom, and returns with her work laptop. Sitting next to me on the couch she boots it up and uses something called a VPN to log into her work account. At least I think that’s what she’s doing. Eventually she brings up a document and turns the laptop for me to read. It’s something called a Job Description for a Personal Executive Assistant Grade 6. It lists a bunch of possible tasks, but it dances around the basic idea that this job is doing whatever the Executive you’re assigned to tells you to do. I glance up at Grace, but she scrolls further down the document and taps at the screen.

My eyes bug out as I try to find out how she’s pulling my leg. When I can’t make it out, I simply ask, “You mean a secretary at your firm makes thirty-six dollars? An hour? That’s like… uh…” math was never my strong suit, but I saw the annual salary listed lower on the document and it added up “…that’s seventy-five thousand dollars a year! Holy shit, those secretaries make more than me just for answering the phone!?”

Grace giggles and leans back into the couch, “They do more than answer the phone as I’m sure you’ll find out. But yes, that’s the pay for a grade six Personal Executive Assistant. Grade six is high on the scale and would normally require five years experience, but Rhea says we can fake that. Which we’ll have to do since this whole plan is dependent on you hiring in directly to Mr. Orpheus’ desk.”

While Grace is talking, I keep reading the job description and have more questions. “So, what exactly is this ‘Hiring Bonus’? And the standard “Insurance Package”? Is that like medical?”

Grace nods with a knowing smile, evidently already knowing that those phrases would catch my interest, “The hiring bonus is because it’s hard to find qualified candidates. Most girls with that much experience don’t want to leave their job and drop all of their associated seniority. It’s a big deal in the assistant pool. And yes, the insurance includes medical. And life insurance, and dental, visual, and accidental **** and dismemberment. It’s honestly not that great of a package, but the health insurance is really good on its own. I told Rhea about the nose job you needed to get, and she said that she’d make sure the insurance kicks in after a single week instead of the normal two months, that way you can schedule the procedure and get it done before we have this wrapped up. And even if it can’t be scheduled that quickly, she’ll add the insurance to your severance package so that you’ll have the insurance for a year.”

I look up into Grace’s eyes, finally getting a grasp on how good this could be. “So, let me get this right. If I do this, whether it works or not, I get paid like thirty-six an hour. I get health insurance for at least a year so I can get the nose job… HEY, it’s not a nose job, it’s a septoplasty… this deviated septum surgery done. And on top of that I get both a hiring bonus AND a severance package?”

Grace giggles behind her hand for a moment before responding, “Yes Jamie, you get those things. But also get this straight because I don’t want you to lose this fact. You’re going to be dressed up to the nines, showing off your legs and tits and trying to get a guy to sexually **** you. No matter what the pay day is, can you do that? Because no one in the world, me included, would blame you if the answer was no.”

I sit back further into the couch and give the thought its due. Yeah, I know I can pass. I did it on stage and at that party. I can certainly do it in an office environment. Would it be comfortable? Doubtful. I mean, I’d have to commute to and from the office and that alone would be thirty minutes full of touchy-feely strangers on a crowded train. But it would only be eight or nine hours a day. Getting a guy to sexually **** me. Not gonna lie, that one will be difficult. But as disgusting as that will feel, it will be doing something for the common good. It will help Grace and all the women at her office. Hell, it will help the entire office because it has to be a toxic environment with someone like him around.

With an overly emphatic nod I finally answer, “Yes. Yes, I can do that. The rest, the insurance, the pay, the bonuses, those are all icing on the cake. So long as I don’t go into debt for this, I can do it. Hell, I’ll even get some money from the studio because Tyrell will keep working and that’s like extra toward the studio rent.”

“That’s good to hear. Because I don’t want you to think about the hiring bonus whatso-ever. I talked to Rhea about getting us hooked up with the clothes and prosthetics you’d need to pull this off and she’ll front us the hiring bonus money. And while it’s seven grand, we’ll be spending almost all of that on your disguise. Also, we need to talk about your name. I mentioned your full name to Rhea, and she said that since you don’t go by Paris, that you should use that as your name. Just like you hide the P now, you’ll hide the J. Paris J Beaufort. In fact, we’ll need to get new bank cards so that if anybody spots them, they’ll see that name and not PJ or Jamie. As for your driver’s license, you’ll bring it in on your first day for your new hire paperwork where you’ll get a corporate ID. After that, you’ll leave it at home. Nothing on your person can say you’re a man or that your name is PJ or Jamie. You’re to be Paris the secretary from the time you leave our apartment to the time you get back to it. Is that all okay?”

I nod along. I’d guessed about the ID already, but the bank cards were a new wrinkle. At least it was my real name, and the bank would issue me a new debit and credit card without much fuss.

Things move fast and at nine AM sharp I step out of the elevator on the 31st floor of 200 West Madison. This was the lowest floor of K Edison Global and according to Grace, they took up everything through the 37th floor. Both she and Mr. Orpheus worked on the 34th floor. This first floor wasn’t even their main lobby as that was up on the 33rd floor. No, this was their administrative floor. Even though it wasn’t designed for customers it was still well appointed and exuded the money that K Edison Global had.

It was easy enough to find the HR area where I was directed back to the director’s office. As the secretary’s desk was empty, Rhea met me with a firm handshake, guided me into her office and lived up to everything Grace sold her as. She was in her late 40s or early 50s. Her hair was a nice brown color, but it desperately needed a touch up as the grey was showing in her roots. Her face had obvious surgical help. It probably looked great in her thirties and didn’t look too bad now. But it’s the type of lift that’s going to look awful when she gets into her late sixties.

Her whole attitude is one of working. Like anything happening around her is an annoyance that’s taking her away from something more important. Myself included. She’s not unpleasant, just… busy.

After we made some small talk as she finished off half a dozen emails, took a hand full of phone calls, and had four visitors just drop in without knocking, she finally set her phone on do not disturb, closed her laptop, and locked her office door while closing the shades. We were alone. When she sat down it was next to me so that we could face each other closely instead of being on either side of her desk. She leaned forward and jumped right into the meat of what we were doing. “Jamie, this is not a scenario where we can wink and nudge and act like we don’t’ know what’s going on. Ignorance is not an option here. We need to be open and clear so that the risks and rewards are all known and on the table. Are you okay with that?”

“Yes Ma’am.”

She grins at my formal title usage and goes on, “Good. So, first thing, what we’re going is illegal. You and I will be committing fraud. I’ll be running your identification and background check as if you were female. I’ll be falsifying records so that I can have your college degree and work history on file. I can hold off the two big checks that will sound alarms in other departments. Your FBI criminal background check and your official credit check. Those can wait until you’ve been here for three weeks. If we don’t have the evidence by then, you’ll have to quit so that I can’t run the checks. Otherwise, you’re at the least fired for cause, and at worst prosecuted.”

I hold up my hand and ask, “Why don’t we just use my real college record and work history? I mean, then it’s not fraud, right?”

Rhea shakes her head curtly. “No. I need your records to show for one Paris Beaufort. A young woman your age. This isn’t a matter of whether people will look into your past, it’s a matter of when. WHEN they look, I’d rather them be confused by missing or false records as opposed to something so close to the truth, just showing you as a man. Besides, working in your studio does not qualify you for this position.”

I nod, though Rhea doesn’t even give me a chance to respond before she moves on. “We’ll also specifically be committing insurance fraud. I can’t start the insurance with our company and have it under a man’s identity so it will list you as a woman. It won’t matter to any of your medical uses, as they simply run the ID number, but the digital records will be for a person that doesn’t technically exist. So, while I’m sure Grace told you you’d have this insurance for a year, I’d suggest you use it for your required surgery as soon as possible and then leave it unused otherwise. Emergencies and such are fine, but you’re young and healthy and shouldn’t need to visit the doctor for chronic care. This also is somewhat time sensitive as I control all access to the health records and insurance on our side so long as we’re a private company. But when we go public, which I’ve heard rumblings about already, I’d lose that exclusive access. It’s not an immediate concern, but it is something for us to be aware of. Are you okay with these facts? That we’re committing fraud and specifically insurance fraud and these are illegal acts?”

I nod again, feeling far more serious than when Grace and I talked about this last night. Rhea takes my agreement and starts right back up. “Okay, so you know what we need. We need ironclad evidence of Mr. Malachi Orpheus committing sexual **** upon you. Not harassment. That’s not nearly good enough. And he WILL commit sexual harassment. You need to know that. His hand will touch your body inappropriately. He’ll use inappropriate names for you. He’ll discuss inappropriate topics with you. He’ll joke about, tease about, and hint at sexual acts between him and you. None of that is ****. If we had years to build up a case of constant harassment, my lawyer friend tells me that it could change to ****, but we don’t have anyone willing to go this far and we don’t have years to work with you. So, it must be clear ****. Do you understand what that entails exactly?”

Last night I would have answered in the affirmative, but Ms. Birdie was making this sound like some kind of criminal organization, and I’d feel better if it was directly laid out. “Umm… I think I do but I want to know for sure. Could you lay it out for me?”