Page 9 of Collin: Episodes 1-3
Collin sat.
Ellisandre pointed to the open database. “This is where we track areas that do not have restaurants or coffee shops at sufficient density to meet population need and income levels.”
“There’s an algorithm for that?”
Ellisandre raised an eyebrow. “Yes. And I refined it for this particular city. Each city requires a slightly different adjustment. Even each neighborhood. We’ll get to that later. All you need to understand today is to find the areas marked in red. These show recent city blocks where there is less than the expected number of businesses. For each area, look up what was there in the last five years, break it up by what was there, for how long, what is there, and how well they are doing, then use this database to look up who owns the businesses that are already there in the food business only. If you get through that this week, you’ll start visiting each location you’ve written up in person to take photos, talk to people, eat at the places that are there, and write a report. You’ll visit each place three times, no more than once a week. There’s a spending allowance. Bring back receipts.”
“This is market research.”
“Precisely.” Ellisandre raised one penciled eyebrow. “My lady is an angel investor. And in some cases, we find people to invest in, rather than them finding us. Or we guide our investees into better locations. Right now, we have five potential investees, but their chosen locations aren’t promising. Great creativity, less business acumen. It’s a common problem. Now, shoo, I have calls to make. If you need help, raise your hand.”
Ellisandre turned away, opening a notebook and picking up their phone.
The work was more interesting than the retreading American domestic policy as taught by his current poli-sci professor. Ellisandre only let him work for three hours though before sending him out on errands, first to pick up dinner for those in the office and then to walk “my lady’s loyal companion.” Which turned out to be Maribel, a German Shepherd. For that task, Collin changed back into his school clothes. It felt good, actually, to run through Millennium Park. Maribel was extremely well trained. The leash hung loose between them, and she jogged at his heel. He was winded long before her and had to pant, leaning over, his hands on his knees.
“How do you do this?”
A passing jogger laughed. “You work up to it.”
Collin shook his head. At the next opportunity, he splurged on water and then called Ellisandre. “Can I give Maribel water while running?”
“As long as it wasn’t refrigerated. And no more than one bottle every fifteen minutes.”
“Thanks.” Collin hung up.
He made it back to his desk after an hour. He sat down and promptly fell asleep at the keyboard. He woke up to a note stuck to his screen.
Collin, you obviously required rest. Dinner is in the office break room with your name on it. Eat it and go home. The door will lock behind you. Also, your phone is on the charger beside the computer.
Ellisandre’s idea of being a perfect boss was exact order, perfect timetables, and regular meals. They also included dressing Collin. When he showed up on Friday, a track suit and running shoes were laid out for him. He picked them up and turned them over a few times.
“Ellisandre, what’s this?”
“Oh, security complained someone was trying to steal my lady’s canine companion. Look the part, pass without spark. Wear that and I won’t have to explain anything.”
“I can’t possibly be worth this much.”
Ellisandre raised one eyebrow and turned in their chair. “Collin. Collin, Collin, Collin. This isn’t about you. It’s about us. Now wear the clothes like a good boy.”
“I don’t understand.”
Ellisandre fluttered their long black eyelashes. “You beautiful idiot. It’s called standards. I have standards. We have standards. They are ours. We have hired you with full knowledge that you are incapable of meeting those standards from where you start. You are raw wood. Until you are sanded and polished, no one can see you for what you are. All they will see is a piece of wood in the wrong place, where only polished pieces are supposed to be. They’ll throw you out with the trash.”
Collin looked between Ellisandre and the clothes and then back to them again. “That’s— it’s not people’s fault when they can’t…”
Flashes of high school, trying to hold his pants together with tape, of shopping secondhand shops, and of putting plastic bags over his shoes just the winter before filled his vision. He squeezed his eyes shut.
A strong, long-fingered hand came down on his arm. He startled, arms rising to protect his face.
Ellisandre stood directly in front of him. “Yes. I know. Clothes are communication. And certain people communicate in ways that others can’t afford to speak. In ancient times, it was through laws, forbidding merchants from wearing certain colors. In Korean Imperial harems, colors were assigned to different ranks of women based on their importance and function to the emperor. It has been this way a very long time.”
Collin dragged in a long breath. “Why…”
“Why say the truth?” Ellisandre raised an eyebrow and glided across the room. They pulled a tissue from a box and turned, their tulle and silk skirt swinging out around their ankles. “I’ve always preferred the truth to lying. It makes everything so much clearer. Then again, I’m perfectly happy to lie all day to my lady’s adversaries.” They shrugged languidly. “And why should I lie to you? You already told me, the day I retained you, that you were aware of the differences in stations in society. So aware, in fact, that your imagination had shut down though perhaps that was more your sense of responsibility.”
Collin accepted the tissue but didn’t use it. He was too busy staring into Ellisandre’s face. There was something cold but distant there.
“There are two things you need to learn, Collin. Never lie to yourself about what you want, what you need, and what other people want from you. Don’t lie to yourself about how each section of the world works. And don’t lie to yourself that it can never change. Everything. Everything can change.”
