The Assistants
#11: Proposals
by JMD

As she reached for the doorbell button for the third time, Tiffany felt silly.  That didn't stop her from dropping her hand back down to her side though.  Silently cursing herself, she took a step back.  This had to stop.  Putting it off wasn't going to make it any easier.  So, on the fourth attempt, she actually managed to ring the doorbell.

Then, fought the urge to make a mad dash for the elevator.

Luckily, before she got the chance, Paul open the door to his apartment.  "Oh, hi, Tiff," he greeted her.  "What's up?"

She forced a smile onto her face.  "Hey, Paul," she returned, hoping it sounded normal.  "Hollie home?  I need to talk to the two of you."

"Sure," he answered, opening the door wider.  "Come on in.  She's in the kitchen."  After closing the door, he followed her across the living room.  "Would you like something to drink?" he offered.

"No, thanks," she answered over her shoulder.  "I'm in a bit of a hurry.  I'm meeting Tim later at..."  She stopped as she came into the kitchen.  She looked around, but Hollie was nowhere to be seen.  She looked back as Paul came into the room, cocking her eyebrow at him.

He nodded with his chin.  "Trash compactor," he answered nonchalantly.

"Ah," she acknowledged with a nod.  

She crossed the room to the sink.  Reaching down, she pulled open the compactor and looked inside.  Sure enough, there was Hollie looking back up at her.  The woman had been pressed into what looked like a perfect flesh-colored cube with her face on top.  "So, who was..." her friend started before realizing it wasn't her husband that had opened the appliance.  "Oh, hi, Tiff."

Tiffany just continued to take it all in.  Here and there, something broke the illusion of perfection.  A painted fingernail in one corner.  A whiff of Hollie's hair above her face.  And was that a nipple right there?  Knowing her best friend, probably.  "Let me guess," she finally said.  "A new trick for the act?"

Hollie smiled.  "Sure," she answered.  "Let's go with that."

"So, how does it feel?"

"Tight," Hollie admitted with an uncomfortable expression that quickly turned into a smile.  "But in all the right places."  She gave her friend an eyebrow wiggle and a wink.

Tiffany just shook her head in reply.

Disappointed, Hollie went on.  "So, what brings..."  She stopped, her eyes locking onto the hand Tiffany held out over her compacted face.  Particularly onto the large diamond on the ring finger.  Her eyes turned back to Tiffany's.  "He asked?" she practically shouted.

"He did," Tiffany answered with a smile.

"And you accepted."

The smile grew bigger.  "I did."

"Paul.  Out.  NOW!!"

Knowing an order when he heard it, Paul stepped forward.  "Excuse me," he said to Tiffany, who stepped aside.  Reaching down, he pulled the bag containing his compressed wife from the compactor.  "Clothes?" he asked casually.

"I don't care," she answered impatiently.

"I do," Tiffany put in quickly.  "Clothes please."

"Hey!" Hollie shouted from inside the bag.  "I'm wearing panties."

"Not enough," her friend fired back.

"Prude!"

"I am not!" Tiffany countered.  "We've got important things to discuss here, and I don't want to do it with your whoo-has hanging out."  Ignoring the giggle from inside the bag, she locked eyes with Paul.  "Clothes please," she said again.

With a nod, he turned the bag upside down over the floor.  With a smooth motion, he whipped it up over his own head.  Instead of a cube, Hollie stood restored on the spot.  As requested, she was fully clothed in jeans and a t-shirt.  She took a moment to adjust her breasts more comfortably into the bra she was suddenly wearing.  "Satisfied?" she asked her friend.

"Completely," Tiffany replied.

"Good," Hollie said, rushing over to her.  "Now, let me see."  She took Tiffany's offered hand and examined the ring closely.  "Oh crap!  This is the most amazing engagement ring I've ever seen."  She quickly turned to look at her husband.  "No offense, Honey," she said just as quickly.

"None taken," he said with a crooked smile.

Without missing a beat, Hollie turned back and pulled her best friend into a tight hug.  "Oh, Tiff," she squealed.  "I'm so happy for you."

"Yeah," Tiffany said.  "Me, too."

Something in her tone caused Hollie to stiffen.  "You don't sound very happy," she commented.  She pulled back and looked her friend in the eye.

Tiffany forced a smile on her face.  "I am," she insisted.  She held up the hand with the ring on it.  "About this, I'm ecstatic.  I've wanted this almost from the moment Tim and I met."

"Then what..."

"The rules," Paul said from behind her.

Hollie turned to her husband, who just looked back at her.  "Oh," she said softly, turning back to her friend.

"No married assistants," Tiff said with a nod.

"Tiff..."

"It's okay," Tiffany said quickly, trying hard to sound like it was okay.  "No, really.  I knew this was coming.  You did, too."

"Still..."

Tiffany stopped her with a finger over her lips.  "It is what it is," she stated simply.  "And if I'm forced to choose..."

"Which you are," Hollie cut in.  She shot another look at her husband who squirmed uncomfortably.

"Stop it," Tiffany said, giving her a jab in the shoulder.  "This isn't his fault.  So, leave him alone."  She turned to her boss.  "I'm sorry about this, Paul," she said.  "I know you're already shorthanded with Kristi leaving.  Now, this..."

"Forget it," he said quickly.  "Your happiness is more important than anything else."  He was rewarded with a smile for that.  "And it won't actually be that big a deal," he added.

Instantly, the smile was gone.  "It...  It won't?"

Missing the tone, he went on.  "No.  I really enjoyed the big shows we did on the world tour and all.  But I'm ready to get back to smaller venues.  I think three assistants will be just about right for that."

"Paul..."  Hollie hissed.

"What?"

"Well," Tiffany said stiffly, "I'm glad my timing has worked out so good for you."

"Me, too."

"Paul..."  Hollie hissed louder.

"In fact," Paul went on, ignoring her, "it's perfect."  

"PAUL!" Hollie shouted, glancing at her shell-shocked best friend and moving toward her husband.

"Tiffany, how would you like a job?"

Hollie stopped in her tracks.  "What?"

She wasn't the only one caught off guard.  Tiffany could only stare at him for a few moments before replying.  "A...  A job?"

"Right."

"Um," Tiffany hesitated.  "You do understand that I came over here to quit, right?"

"Like I said, perfect."  Both women just stared at him.  "If you're not going to be an assistant anymore, then you're free to take on another job for me.  Right?"

"Uh, I guess," Tiffany said, trying to follow the logic.  "What kind of job?"

"My assistant," he stated plainly.

Tiffany took a second to answer.  "Okay," she admitted.  "I'm completely lost here."

Hollie held up her hand.  "That makes two of us."

Paul smiled.  "Look, Tiff," he explained.  "You may not have noticed, but I can get lost in planning the shows.  The little day to day stuff tends to fall by the wayside."

"I noticed," Tiffany nodded.

Smiling, he went on.  "Well, this was especially true during the world tour.  There was all that booking and scheduling that had to take place.  Not to mention merchandising and interviews and all kinds of crap I don't even remember."  He took a beat to let that sink in.  "What I do remember is that you... without being asked... took on all of that.  And you made it look easy."

Tiffany blushed.  "What can I say?  I've always been a very organized person."

"And that's just what I need," Paul told her.  "Someone to keep me organized."

"Isn't that Hollie's job?" Tiffany smiled.

Paul hesitated.  "Um..."

Tiffany let him off the hook.  "It's okay, Paul.  I shared a dorm room with her, remember?"

"Hey!"

Tiffany ignored her.  "So, when you say assistant..."

"I mean just that," Paul confirmed.  "You'll be my right hand in all things business related."

"Again, isn't that Hollie's job?"

This time Hollie answered.  "No, I'm his right hand in all things show related."

"Doesn't that give him two right hands?"

"And two left feet," Hollie grinned.  "So, it balances out."

"So," Paul asked, trying to get things back on track, "how about it, Tiff?  You want the job?"

"Yes!" she practically shouted.  "Yes!"  She rushed over and threw her arms around his neck, hugging him tightly.

Over her shoulder, Paul locked eyes with his wife, who gave him a thumbs up gesture.  "Good job," she mouthed to him.

"Thank you," Tiffany breathed into his shoulder before pulling back.  "Thank you so much."

"No," he told her.  "Thank you.  With you here, I'll have more time to really make the show the best it can be."

Tiffany sighed.  "Yeah."

"Now what's wrong?" Hollie asked.

Tiffany hesitated for a second.  "It's nothing," she hedged.

"Don't give me that," Hollie told her.  "I know that look.  Something's still bothering you."

"It's not," she tried, but Hollie's glare made her give it up.  "I don't want to appear ungrateful," she said, turning to Paul.  "Because I really am happy that I'm still going to be part of the group."

"But..." Hollie prompted.

"It's just..."  Tiffany sighed heavily.  "The stuff we do on stage. The flattening.  The twisting.  The transforming.  All that stuff.  I'm just going to miss all of it."  She shrugged.

"Well," Paul told her, "I can't let you back into the show.  The rules are clear about that one."

"I know," Tiffany acknowledged.

"However," Paul went on, "they're a little fuzzier when it comes to rehearsals and down time."  With that he pulled open the trash compactor.  He gave her a raised eyebrow.

She looked at the open appliance, then back to her boss, her face breaking into a wide grin.  "Another time, perhaps.  Right now, I really have to take off.  I'm supposed to meet Tim at our favorite cafe to celebrate."  She pulled Paul into another hug.  "Thanks again."

"No problem," he said, returning the embrace.  

She pulled back from him and gave Hollie another hug.  "I'll call you later."

"You better," her friend said, pulling her tighter.  "We've got a wedding to plan, after all."

"Yes," Tiffany said, pulling away.  "We do."  She backed to the kitchen door.  "Gotta go."  She stopped for a second and smiled at them both.  Then, she turned and left the room.  And second later, they heard the door to the apartment close behind her.

"So," Hollie said immediately, "when were you going to mention this to me?"

He just shrugged in response.  

With a shake of her head, she pulled him into a hug that turned quickly into a deep kiss.  With a deep breath, she pulled back.  "You're a good man, Mr. Lance," she told him.  "I'm glad I married you."

"Right back at you, Mrs. Lance."

Without letting him go, she turned to look out the door her friend had gone through.  "They're engaged," she said softly.  "Does that mean he can tell her now?"

"Not quite," Paul answered.

"Why not?"

"Well," he explained, "engagements get broken all the time.  So, the rules required that they actually get married before he can say anything."

"Okay," she said, "I guess that makes sense.  But this engagement's not going to fall apart."

"No, I don't think so either."

Hollie smiled, and gave him another quick kiss on the lips.  

"Now," she said, "where were we?"  Without waiting for a reply, she stepped into the still open trash compactor.