Sorry I haven't updated in about a century. I took a bit of a bump to the head and my attention span has been zilch (not that it was particularly high before).
This chapter is kinda short but this is the length most of them are gonna be from now on, so there will be more updates. Hehe. Rather strategic of me.
Okay, I caved.
Don't blame me. A single mid-twenties woman, who still needed money to pay the rent...there was no other option. No other place would take me. Who would, considering the fact that I puked in my bosses plantpot, told him that his office smelled like a whore house and that he looked like a giant blob of cotton candy? No-one. Exactly.
So the next day I put on the shirt that made my boobs look good and my skirt that made my ass look good and the shoes that made my legs look good and strutted in like I owned the fucking place.
I walked (quite impressively, given the height of my heels) to the receptionist. Renesmee, her name was. She always was an odd one. Huge, round spectacles and a perm that grew bigger everyday. Tie-dye clothing, the ink stains around her mouth from chewing on her pen, the mis-matching shoes that she never seemed to notice. In a way, I kind of liked her. Admired her.
"Hey, Renesmee." I greeted her, leaning against the counter and pushing my ass out slightly in case Mike walked past. I know it was a low blow, but...hey. I was desperate
"Hey, Bell!" She was the only person who had ever called me that. "I loved the show you put on yesterday. Kept the girls-" She jerked her thumb over her shoulder to point at the girls who sat gossiping in an office, painting their nails, "-quite busy. Had something halfway interesting to talk about." She grinned, showing off her lopsided dimples. I grinned with her.
"By the way, Bell, you're looking hot." She said. I snickered. "You want your job back, by any chance?" She looked at me knowingly, the hints of a smile still playing around her lips, but the dimples that appeared on her cheeks gave her away.
I blushed a deep red.
"Woah, Bell. Looking hot." She laughed, gesturing towards my tomato coloured face. "I'll buzz Mike, and while I do, drink some water. Cool your face down." She laughed. "If you wanna get your job back you're gonna have to look the part. He's a very shallow man. So be flirty, bat your eyelashes some, suck in your belly and push out your boobs. That ought to get you somewhere." With that, she shuffled through to the office behind and picked up an old office phone, and began speaking to who I presumed was Mike.
It was so easy to feel confident and happy around Renesmee. So easy, in fact, that you forget how freakin' worried you were beforehand.
"Isabella." I heard Mike's gurgly rasp from behind me. I gave it all I had to resist the urge to roll my eyes and scream, "It's Bella, you fool!" I turned around slowly and just about gagged.
Today he wore an even more ridiculous outfit than yesterday, if that was possible. Which it was. Here was the proof.
He was wearing a pastel yellow coloured shirt with pastel pink stripes, topped off with a pastel blue blazer-jacket. His pastel green trousers flared out at the bottom and clung to his thighs, making his skinny twigs that he passed for legs look like tree trunks. His hair was combed back with what looked to be a full tub of hair gel, and probably a full bottle of hair spray. It was revolting.
"Mike." I greeted him while batting my eyelashes, following Renesmee's advice.
"C-Come into my o-office. We-we need to talk." I resisted the urge to make a sarcastic comment, threw all my pride into the bin and followed him into his little hell-hole that he called an office.
Ugh. I'm the one writing about it yet I can't help but hate Mike with all of my soul. Who's with me?