2021-05-11 9:57 – Tuesday
Jasmin's Apartment, 151 Wooster Street, SoHo
Jasmin looked at the clock on her wall, then back to her stack of about eight thick envelopes on the table. Once more, she considered scouring the supernatural world for a demon or some such to deliver mail for her on days like this, as it inched closer to ten in the morning. This was far too late to be up and moving about on a regular basis. Her home was modest for someone who had spent as much time working in the industry as she did, which still made it look rather upscale compared to everyone else.
She settled down onto the couch, older heavy metal playing to keep her awake. Unlike the modern stuff, she could actually understand that. So now she closed her eyes and waited as patiently as she could, listening to Sharon den Adele singing about Our Solemn Hour.
When the knocking at the door finally came, the woman dragged herself out of the couch, heading over to crack the door open with a tired look and slight smile. “Ah, there you are. Please, come inside.”
Anne smiled to the blond woman and stepped inside the shadowed house. Jasmin didn’t look too happy –she knew she as late– but it wasn’t like her to be put down by a client, and she knew better than to appear intimidated. She inspected the blonde and noticed her tired expression and almost transparent-looking skin.*She’s probably been up all night,* she thought, and felt suddenly guilty.
“Sorry, Jasmin,” she said, smiling beatifically, “traffic was hell. Even for me.”
She almost smiled as she saw the other flinch, she probably wasn’t very used to be addressed in a first name basis by errand girls. But of course, the woman was VIP. She owned a fancy club, and most important, she was a theatre producer, with connections back in Hollywood from where she came about five years ago.
*It could be so good if you could just, you know, suck up a little, Annie.* She thought to herself, but she knew that asking to be sent to Jasmin every time she called for a courier would be the whole expanse of her sucking up. *It’s enough. At least she recognizes me at auditions!*
“Be glad you are not in Los Angeles,” she said lightly, door closing behind her. Good, mild discomfort; her mission was accomplished. Good day for them to send Anne, since most of her deliveries today were going to people in the theatre. Not for the first time, she considered an ad for a personal asisstant. “This one time, we were going to pick up someone from the airport, and got stuck on the freeway for three hours. I could have walked.”
Still, she stopped and looked over the other woman, eying her carefully as she started to consider. Her regular courier had left the company, and it was always good to have someone carrying her things recognized. “You might be interested to know that we're having an emergency audition, by the way. Someone was stupid enough to fail rehab three times.”
“Oh. That’s interesting indeed, thanks for the tip, Jasmin.” Anne eyes shone and she smiled, but she forced herself not to ask for details. Maybe it was paying out after all. “What do you need me for this morning?”
Jasmin moved over, to pick up her stack, putting it down on the back of the couch. The letters balanced precariously on edge. “It'll probably be a good couple hours worth – this one,” she pulled out one of the envelopes, “is the only time-sensitive one. Needs to get there by one for a conference call. Rest of it is all at your leisure. Mostly people in the industry today, actually.”
Anne took the envelopes and looked at the address on the one Jasmin had sorted as top priority. She nodded, it shouldn’t be a problem. Then she checked the other ones, they weren’t too much trouble either. The addresses were well spread all around the Village and Broadway, but nothing that would take her more than the couple of hours Jasmin had predicted, Anne even recognized some of the names, including the director of ‘1776’, the play Jasmin was producing. Cool, she could get the details of the audition while delivering.
“No problema,” she raised her eyes and smiled. “From your hands to theirs, Madam. Anytyhing else?”
Jasmin shook her head and actually yawned, as the next song started up on the concert CD. She moved to her purse to actually pull out and peel off a small set of four $20 bills, holding it out to her. It was an unwritten rule of hers: tip well. Tip very well. “Let's see.... mail,” she turned to look her over as she spoke, “tip, and image in my head of an attractive woman when I fall into bed. Think we may be good.”
Without counting the bills, Anne folded them and pushed them into her corset – she was used to Jasmin’s generosity, another good reason for working for her. Then she frowned, the woman was practically falling asleep in her feet, she better go.
“All-righty,” she said, while walking to the door. “I’m off, then. Have a nice… day.”
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