Page 4 of Hooked on Dallas
He swings around and stalks back to his desk, dismissing me. I stand frozen in place, panic and confusion warring in my mind.
How on earth am I going to do this? Even with an army of assistants, organizing that file in a few hours is impossible.
Failing isn’t an option. There has to be a way to get this done, somehow. Then it hits me.
I grab the box and rush back to my desk, flipping through the files at breakneck speed. Most are decades old and irrelevant. I can ignore those.
The more recent files are a mess, but if I focus on the key cases and documents...yes, that might work.
I spring into action, sorting files into the trash, “irrelevant,” and “priority.” The priority pile grows at an alarming rate, but it is coming together.
Doubt and panic continue to war in my mind, but I push them aside. I have a plan now, and that is enough.
As the clock ticks down to five, I finish the final case summary and report. My hands shake as I place the work on Mr. De La Cruz’s desk. I did the impossible.
3
Laura
The next morning, I walk into the office with a mix of dread and determination. Is Mr. De La Cruz satisfied with my work? Or have I made some fatal error that will get me fired?
When I reach my desk, I find a single red pen sitting on top of the case file. My heart sinks. Of course it wasn't good enough.
I steel myself and knock on Mr. De La Cruz’s office door. He looks up, his face as stern and unreadable as ever. “The file. You wanted to see me?”
“Yes.” He stands up and circles his desk. “Do you know why I asked you to organize this file yesterday?”
I shake my head, unsure of the answer he is looking for.
“I wanted to see what you were made of,” he says. “And you did not disappoint. You accomplished in one day what it takes most assistants weeks to finish. Well done.”
I blink, stunned. A compliment? From him?
“Th-thank you, sir,” I stammer.
The corner of his mouth quirks up. “You’re welcome. I look forward to seeing what else you can accomplish here.”
He sits back down, effectively dismissing me, but I leave his office with a grin. Maybe this new boss won’t be so bad after all.
My colleagues are waiting when I emerge, questions and concern on their faces. I just smile mysteriously and get to work. Let them wonder—for now, I am content knowing I have proven myself. The impossible task has been possible after all.
I sigh and rub my temples, staring at the mess of papers strewn across my desk. Finding those missing documents has been like searching for a needle in a haystack, and the conflicting accounts from witnesses give me a headache.
But I did make a promise to Mr. De La Cruz I will get this done, and I am not about to go back on my word.
My stomach rumbles, reminding me I haven’t eaten since that granola bar at breakfast. I glance at the clock—already after 5 pm. The others have already left for the day, off to enjoy happy hours and home-cooked meals.
I dig back in, piecing together clues and connections until the words blur on the page. It is 8 pm when I straighten the last file, satisfaction flooding me. I did it.
I stumble out of the empty office into the dark lobby, fatigue hitting me all at once. But underneath the exhaustion is a spark of pride at a job well done.
Mr. De La Cruz has been right to put his faith in me. I am stronger than even I have realized.
Once home, I sit on my couch with a glass of wine and contemplate calling Jennifer. She has always been my voice of reason, but I didn’t know if I want to hear what I need to say this time.
With a sigh, I pick up my phone and dial her number.
“Laura!” Her cheerful voice filters through the line. “How’s it going?”
