I pulled the G-Wagon up to the Falcon 7X. We’d been upgraded from the Challenger 300 — my boss was now flying exclusively private. Our aviation team had already texted: On-time arrival. Thanks for another great trip, Nick.
My boss descended the stairs in Gucci sunglasses and upscale pajamas that somehow looked like business attire, Bose headphones draped around his neck. I moved toward the tarmac to grab his bags, but the crew waved me off. “We got it.”
I was in a new role now — more chief of staff than assistant. I collaborated. I anticipated. I was seen in a way I didn’t know was possible when I first said yes to this world.
Halfway down the steps, my boss caught my eye and motioned me over. I reached into my pocket for his car keys, but as I held them out, he extended an envelope toward me in return.
“Read this,” he said. “Tarantino’s attached, but I’m still not sure.”
