It was about two-thirds through the week and Derek had just got back from his third hockey session of the week with some of his old team mates. He had found the whole 'catching up' thing bizarre. These guys he had known for many years. They had ex-girlfriends in common. Their last significant conversations had been about how they were going to work their way through the female populations of their respective colleges – they had even calculated they would need to have something like ten girls a day in order to cover everyone over their college careers.
Now, however, just four years down the line these guys were all in serious relationships; one already a baby and was about to marry its mother, two were contemplating proposing to their long term girlfriends, hell, even Sam was in a four year relationship.
Only Derek was still single. There had been a lot of teasing about that.
"What's up D? Lost your touch?"
"I'm just picky."
"You're picky or they are?"
"At least I didn't pick the first girl who said 'yes' to me."
"So rumour has it you left college for a girl. What happened to her?"
"You shouldn't listen to rumours. I left college because I found a job."
"So what are the girls in LA like?"
"Expensive."
"Really? Since when did you start paying for them?"
"That's not what I meant." Derek said, backtracking. He glanced across at Sam…who took pity on him.
"Come on guys, we lose the rink in twenty, let's get on with it."
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Derek crept into the house quietly. They had hired the rink late into the evening so it was gone eleven when he came home. A note by the door said to leave the door on the single catch because Edwin and Lizzie were both out on dates. As he passed Marti's room her light was off, so he assumed she was asleep. Casey, however, was still up.
He knocked on her door and when she answered, let himself in.
"Jeez! What the hell happened?" He exclaimed when he saw the mess in her room.
Casey laughed. "You remember the organised teenager I was?"
"Yeah?"
"I grew out of it. This is some of the paperwork I've acquired over the past four years."
"Don't you have a secretary for that?"
Casey nodded. "But, not for this stuff. This is pre-talent show stuff. I need to sort it out. It's been bugging me for a while."
"You want a hand?" he offered. She looked up at him in surprise.
"Would that 'hand' include you chucking great handfuls of my papers into the air and shouting "Oh look it's snowing"?"
"No." He said smiling. As a teenager he probably would have considered that.
"Then, yes…please! I don't know where to start."
"Why don't we start by putting everything in similar piles, then we can each take a pile and order it by date. Then tomorrow I'll go into London and pick up some filing boxes for you."
"Sounds like a plan."
Derek sat on the floor across from her and started sorting through the papers.
"Casey. There are bank statements here. You should really give
those to your accountant."
"They're from before."
"Yeah but aren't you supposed to keep all your statements for like seven years or something when you start filing tax returns?"
Casey looked thoughtful. "You're right, you are supposed to. Shit! I am so disorganised."
"Not disorganised. Just busy. And since when did you start swearing?"
"Bad habits I pick up from my backing group. Jaz swears like a merchant seaman and don't even get me started on the roadies." She looked at him.
"Since when did you get so organised?"
"Since I started living with a keener." He said grinning at her.
They continued the paperwork the following day and then Derek borrowed the car to go into the massive stationery shop in town. He came back with a car full of files and boxes, highlighter pens and sticky labels. They spent the afternoon putting the newly organised papers into files. When they had finished, Casey made a call to her secretary to get him to fed-ex the boxes to her accountant.
That night after dinner and when everyone else had gone to bed, Derek and Casey sat on the porch and talked. They reminisced about their old home, school and friends. And then when they had exhausted the topics, they just sat in companionable silence.
"I need a personal assistant." Casey said suddenly. "It's all very well having an accountant and a secretary and a manager, but I need someone closer to me, someone who can liaise with all of them."
"That sounds a good idea."
"I want someone I can trust."
"That sounds an even better idea." Someone who can watch what that manager is up to.
"It needs to be someone who can get people to do what I want them to do; someone who knows when to say no to my manager, and to me; someone who doesn't take shit from either of us."
"You mean someone who can handle a diva? Bring her down to size?" he grinned.
"Think you can do it?" she asked. Derek blinked.
"What?"
"Come on. You've always been the best person at calling time on my crap. You know how to handle me. And after the past twenty four hours I can see that you can be organised. Plus you need a job."
"Casey. I can't. We'd be under each other's feet all the time."
"No more than we were at school, and we coped. Come on D. You'd be living the rock'n'roll lifestyle. You could make sure I don't over do things, keep me on the straight and narrow. Think how pleased Mom and George would be, knowing that someone on my team knows how important my family is to me."
"Casey…" Derek said warningly.
"Derek. I need you." She said, fixing him with her blue eyes. "You've made me slow down this week, you've made me think about more than just my work. You've made me take time out and spend it with my family. I can't afford not to have you here anymore."
She had him at 'I need you'.
Derek sighed. "Okay." Casey squealed. He held up a hand.
"For a trial period of one year at the end of which either of us can walk away. And you pay me only the market rate, okay? No favours."
"No favours. I'll get my secretary to investigate benefits packages." She beamed at him, and despite the reluctant smile on his face, he was every bit as happy as she was about the whole deal.