My salary was barely enough to rent my furnished one-room apartment and the things that you need in life. Saving money was out of the question.
A few days after I started my job, I noticed that the lawyers always ordered way too much for breakfast and left many things lying around. Nobody touched this expensive food, not even the other assistants. Since I was the one who disposed of everything anyway, some of the food disappeared in a small bag in my desk drawer.
As far as lunch was concerned, I quickly learned who the picky eaters were, and so I asked them for the extras they didn’t want to be packed up separately. Like that, I could make my own meal from these leftovers. With no parents and no financial support, I had no choice but to do this thankless job, and it didn’t just have its dark sides.
My ray of hope was the appointments with Mr. Tanaka, Mr. James’ most important client. He was a Japanese businessman who had settled in San Francisco and ran his company from there. Mr. Tanaka was always accompanied by at least three men. One of them was an interpreter, and the other two were his bodyguards.
The appointments with Mr. Tanaka were the only ones I was ever involved in. I had a skill that Mr. James appreciated very much: I was fluent in Japanese.
I had learned this language from my orphanage’s janitor: Mr. Watanabe. He had worked until old age to provide his grandchildren with a good education. I spent almost every free minute with Mr. Watanabe during that time because he was calm, structured, and reliable, and because of that, completely different from everyone else in this house.
Officially, my job was to serve Mr. Tanaka during these meetings. Unofficially, I listened to the conversations and told Mr. James if the interpreter translated things wrong or if there were words not translated at all. Although it made me feel uncomfortable eavesdropping, I soon realized that this was the only reason Mr. James had hired me in the first place.
So I bit the bullet and did as I was told.
It was clear to me what kind of business Mr. Tanaka was involved in from the first meeting, which made it more apparent why he needed bodyguards. He was Yakuza, the Japanese mafia.
The regular meetings with my boss were less about civil lawsuits and more about contracts that legitimized certain business dealings. Every time Mr. Tanaka and his interpreter exchanged information, there was no translation. Still, they talked about various ‘projects’ of a more or less legal nature.
I guess it was to my advantage that I grew up in an orphanage, where it was always a matter of not letting anything show. Otherwise, my face would have given itself away quickly.
But when it came to passing everything on to Mr. James, I found it challenging. I made it clear that the interpreter was not one, but that the Japanese still had some code that I had to decipher.
Several meetings went by until I knew enough to match Mr. James with various names of Mr. Tanaka’s business and enterprises.
My boss was so pleased with this result that he extended my six-month contract to one year and even gave me a raise. I knew that this was not only a reward for me but that he wanted to spur me on. Of course, I hoped to perhaps even get a permanent contract with the firm. But most of all, Rory James bought my scruples with it.
If eavesdropping on Mr. Tanaka meant that my life was secure, then I would be happy to do it.
So, six months flew by in a flash, and I knew that the next meeting with Mr. Tanaka would be the date that would possibly decide my future in the law firm. But when Mr. James handed me two hundred dollars the day before with the order to buy myself a decent dress, I knew that this meeting was important for my boss as well.
Anjelica, Mr. James’ assistant, looked at me a little skeptically when I asked her where she bought her clothes from. She didn’t answer me until I told her how much money I had available. Then she became very precise and told me what I should best get: a black sheath dress with matching pumps. Not too high, because otherwise, it would be too sexy and not too flat to not be a dull creature.
When I came to work that day, I felt part of the workforce for the first time.
As it was customary in the company, I had always worn a blouse and skirt. Still, it seemed to me the other employees had been able to see that it was clothing from the thrift shop. These clothes had always been a little too big.
The routine, however, was the same as always. Mr. Tanaka would appear at three o’clock in the afternoon. I had my usual duties until then. I was cautious not to ruin my new dress with powdered sugar or something similar.
That was the only thing that was different until Mr. Tanaka finally arrived.
As usual, I was already waiting, standing by the conference room wall near one of the short sides of the long black table. It was coated with piano lacquer and polished to such a high standard that you could see your own reflection in it. I would stay there until Mr. Tanaka or his interpreter had finished his glass of water. My only task was to top up the water. It was Rory James Art to pay respect to his Japanese client. But that in no way changed
