Meg’s manicured nails bite into my arm when she gives me an excited squeeze. “All I know is that we’re meeting in the conference room at eight to find out.”
Well, that’s great, isn’t it? There isn’t even time to throw my stuff in my cubicle. All these weeks of arriving early won’t count for shit if I can’t show up to meet the new manager on time.
“I hope he’s hot,” she whispers.
So do I.
Not that I’m interested.
Josh and I grow closer every time we’re together. Still, it wouldn’t be so bad to have a little eye-candy at work. No harm in looking.
Meg and I slip through another set of gleaming glass doors and file in behind a couple of media buyers from her team.
The excited buzz dies the moment a perfectly polished Jessica Rabbit strolls into the conference room in a pinstripe pencil skirt that shows off curves that need no photoshopping.
Meg and I aren’t the only ones gawking. Pretty sure that random thump was the IT guy’s jaw hitting the floor.
“Good morning, everyone. My name is Rebecca James. As I’m sure you’ve all heard, LC Advertising has done some restructuring and brought me on board to streamline processesin the marketing department.” Rebecca scans the faces surrounding the long table as she explains her new role.
I’m listening. Sort of. What she’s saying doesn’t really apply to a lowly traffic manager.
Don’t know what a traffic manager does? Neither did I.
When I first found out an advertising company was hiring, I pictured Mad Men-style shenanigans and glamor. Instead, all I do is send commercial spots to stations and make sure they run them correctly.
It’s even less exciting than it sounds.
Once we’re dismissed, Meg and I head over to my cubicle so I can finally give my shoulder a break from my purse that weighs as much as a small elephant.
Meg leans over the adjoining wall to retrieve a brown paper bag from her desk and an overpriced coffee that makes the instant crap I have taste like tar in comparison. “Holy shit,” she says, handing me the cup. “That woman is a freaking goddess.”
Inhaling the vanilla-scented steam brings me life. “Tell me about it. I was thinking of asking about her workout routine.” What sort of exercises give her such a teeny, tiny waist? I’d kill for a waist like that.
Snorting, Meg pulls a croissant from the bag. “Why? You can’t afford a gym membership.” She pulls the thing in half and offers the largest piece to me.
How would I survive without her? God love friends who live next to artisanal bakeries.
“Yeah, but Rebecca doesn’t know that.” Maybe I can recreate her workout with my five-pound weights and resistance bands.
If I get a minute, I’m going to ask her anyway. Could be a great way to connect with the new boss.
I really, really want to stay here at the end of my contract. Meg is here, there’s free downtown parking, and once a quarter they have a book club where they pay you to read books. It’s onlya hundred bucks and the books are all non-fiction, but a year of books equals a month of rent, so I am here for it.
Did I mention beer Fridays? Who doesn’t love free beer?
“Rebecca doesn’t know what?” a honeyed voice asks from the other side of the cubicle wall.
Meg and I exchange grimaces before turning to find the woman in question standing right behind us. How she managed to sneak across this concrete floor while wearing those stilettos, I’ll never know.
“That I’m poor and can’t afford a gym membership,” I blurt. Because that’s what I do when I get stressed or nervous. Blurt, blurt, blurt away.
Rebecca’s manicured eyebrows inch up her forehead as she taps her shiny red nails against her hip.
Great. Now she thinks I’m weird.
I mean, Iamweird, but she doesn’t need to know that.
I need to play it cool. Be calm and chill and composed like her. Explain the blurting. “I was going to ask about your workout routine.”
