best counter
Search
Report & Feedback

Chapter no 8 – ALLY

By a Thread

โ€œYou need an emergency contact.โ€ The same woman who had glared her way through an introduction with my bus stop buddy was tapping an impatient fingernail on my screen as I scrolled through onboarding paperwork.

Labelโ€™s HR department was made up of five very stylish women sitting behind neatly decorated desks arranged in what I assumed was an approved feng shui flow. None of the other reps looked nearly as pissed off as the short straw Iโ€™d drawn.

โ€œUh,โ€ I hesitated.

โ€œNo family in the city?โ€ She sounded like it might actually kill her to care.

โ€œNone, that I can count on in an emergency,โ€ I said flatly.

โ€œThen pick a friend,โ€ she said in exasperation. โ€œYouย doย have one of those, donโ€™t you?โ€

I guessed she was projecting.

I entered my best friend Faithโ€™s contact information and hoped to the gods of workplace emergencies that if HR ever needed to call her at work, this lovely flower would have the honor of hearing โ€œClub Ladies and Gentlemen, weโ€™ve got tits and dicks.โ€ Faith was part-owner of one of the most over-the-top strip clubs on the island.

I completed the paperwork to the background music of Lady HRโ€™s annoyed sighs and fingernail tapping on her watch. The salary listed with the job description had me doing a little shimmy in my chair. It wasnโ€™t โ€œI

can afford a one-bedroom in Manhattan money,โ€ but it was โ€œI only need three part-time gigs on the side to almost make ends meet.โ€

โ€œAlmost make ends meetโ€ was way better than where Iโ€™d been when I woke up this morning.

Iโ€™d keep the dance class, the highest paying bar shifts, and take one or two catering jobs a week, I decided, running through the calculations in my head. I still wouldnโ€™t have much time for doing the actual renovations, but this was a medium-sized step in the right direction.

If I could just hang in there until the renovations were done and the house was on the marketโ€ฆ

โ€œLook here.โ€

I looked up in time to wince at the flash of a camera.

The picture loaded onto the computer screen next to her. It looked like I was mid-sneeze. I suddenly had a good idea of who had shot Golaโ€™s company ID.

โ€œYouโ€™re seriously going to put that on my ID?โ€ I asked, actually impressed with the womanโ€™s โ€œI donโ€™t give a fuckโ€ attitude.

โ€œI donโ€™t have all day to orchestrate a photo shoot to please new admins,โ€ she snapped.

โ€œWell, all right then. Letโ€™s go with the mid-sneeze. Itโ€™ll be a nice ice breaker.โ€ It was rather freeing to know that this was all temporary and I didnโ€™t have to worry about fitting in or making a good impression or staying on track for a promotion.

Finish the renovations. Sell the house. Mango margarita.

The printer spat out my badge which doubled as a key card. HR lady smugly handed it over. It was even worse offscreen.

โ€œAdmin pool is on the forty-second floor. Ask for the supervisor.โ€ And with that, I was unceremoniously dismissed.

I found my way to the stairs and went down a flight, using my spiffy new key card to enter the suite of offices. The mood here was similar to the forty-third floor. A lot frantic, a little distrustful.

On the blindingly bright side, I didnโ€™t have to deal with Grumpy HR Lady or Charming on this floor.

I asked the first beautiful, six-foot-tall woman I saw where to find the admin pool. It turned out that I was standing in the middle of it.ย Labelโ€™sย second floor of offices opened into a sea of low-walled cubicles taking up some serious acreage surrounded on two sides by glassed-in offices.

Everyone was, if not breathtakingly beautiful, perfectly coiffed and tastefully accessorized.

I asked a stunning brunette who was frantically trying to fold some kind of silky chartreuse fabric into a white gift box to point me in the direction of the supervisor and caught the woman at her desk between rapid-fire phone calls.

The nameplate said Zara. Her long, black hair was tamed in a sleek braid. There were sticky notes of every color organized in neat little rows on her desk.

She eyed my outfit. โ€œNew hire? Grab an empty desk, dial the IT extension, and have them set you up with a login and an email.โ€

โ€œThanks,โ€ I said, wondering what Iโ€™d do then.

But her phone was ringing, and her computer dinged six times in rapid succession with chat and email notifications. โ€œFor shitโ€™s sake,โ€ she muttered, grabbing one of two iPhones on her desk as they both started vibrating.

I ducked out of the office, leaving her to the beeping and vibrating, and did a quick lap searching for a clear flat surface. I found one in the back on the outer ring of cubicles and about as far away from the windows as you could get. But beggars couldnโ€™t be choosers. I wove my way through the desks and busy people and claimed my new territory with my purse, coat, and container of the last helping of Mrs. Grosuโ€™s Korean barbecue chicken.

โ€œOkay,โ€ I whispered to myself.

I tried out the chair and found it reasonably comfortable. To be fair, every other job Iโ€™d had in the past six months didnโ€™t involve chairs or me sitting in them. So having any chair was a big step up.

The computer monitor was a sexy, state-of-the-art flatscreen, and the only other items on the desk were a thin, white keyboard and a phone.

I picked up the receiver and skimmed the buttons looking for IT. โ€œYou new?โ€

I peered around the Jumbotron flashing theย Labelย logo and found a woman looking back at me.

She had glossy hair the color of a wheat field with subtle silver-toned highlights. It was pulled back in a low ponytail that no strand dared escape. Her face was generic perfection with high cheekbones, expertly applied contouring, and a petite nose that other women probably took pictures of and presented to their plastic surgeons. She would have been downright

beautiful if not for the pinched line of her overfilled lips and the mean girl vibe.

โ€œHi,โ€ I said. โ€œYes. Iโ€™m Ally. Just started today.โ€

She gave a derisive snort that still somehow managed to sound ladylike. โ€œDonโ€™t get in my way.โ€

โ€œYou must be the welcoming committee,โ€ I said, cocking my head. I couldnโ€™t tell if she was twenty-eight or thirty-eight.

โ€œAny assignments that come in for Dominic Russo are mine. Got it?โ€

I laughed. It was a perfect match as far as I was concerned. โ€œYou can keep him. I prefer my men with hearts.โ€

Her lips got impossibly flatter, and I worried they might pop.

โ€œAre you making new friends, Malina?โ€ Gola strolled up and perched on the edge of my desk.

The woman in danger of a lip filler explosion turned her icy glare to my newest friend. โ€œIโ€™m filling her in on the ground rules.โ€

โ€œHer name is Ally, and no one is getting in the way of your delusions,โ€ Gola said.

Heads snapped up over cubicle walls around us like prairie dogs scenting danger.

Gola turned back to me. โ€œMalina here has career aspirations of forcing at least one Russo into a prenup. It didnโ€™t quite work out the first time around. Did it?โ€ she said, wrinkling her nose in fake sympathy.

Interesting.

โ€œYouโ€™d be smart to watch your step, Gola,โ€ Malina hissed. โ€œAnd your fat ass.โ€

โ€œDonโ€™t make me twerk up on you again, Mal.โ€ Golaโ€™s grin was wicked.

Without another word, Malina threw her ponytail over her shoulder and stormed off.

โ€œSo, you already met the mean girl,โ€ Gola teased. โ€œShe seemsย lovely.โ€

โ€œAย totalย charmer. People are always saying, โ€˜that Malina is theย nicest

human being in the entire department.โ€™โ€

โ€œIโ€™mย so happyย I picked the desk behind hers,โ€ I sighed.

โ€œLunch in thirty?โ€ Gola moved to tap the folder she was holding on my desk and ended up dumping its contents on the floor.

โ€œSounds good,โ€ I said, helping her pick up papers and fabric swatches.

 

IT WASย the fanciest cafeteria Iโ€™d ever stepped foot in. Unlike my high school cafeteria with its vinyl stools and burnt, canned marinara smell, here the floors were some kind of white marble and huge urns filled with real greenery created a Zen, urban jungle feel.

There was definitely no canned marinara smell.

It was more of an atrium or a conservatory than a cafeteria. Even the food was fancy. I couldnโ€™t afford it, but that didnโ€™t stop me from glancing at the sushi chefโ€™s display and the Keto Korner.

Gola and I grabbed an empty table between a potted palm and another table full of tall, thin women picking at lettuce and animatedly discussing a fight between a photographer and a make-up artist.

Gola placed a glass of green juice and a bowl of clear broth on the table in front of her. โ€œIโ€™m doing a cleanse,โ€ she said, catching me eyeing her questionable โ€œlunch.โ€ โ€œYouโ€™ve got to try it. It makes your skin radiant.โ€

โ€œIโ€™m more of an accidental fasting person,โ€ I joked. โ€œIntermittent fasting is so the rage,โ€ she nodded sagely.

โ€œMy situation is kind of โ€˜ran out of foodโ€™ and have to wait for my next paycheck fasting.โ€

โ€œYouโ€™re broke?โ€ Gola said with more interest than pity. โ€œMore like newly and temporarily poor.โ€

Gola spotted Ruth in the crowd and waved her over. The redhead plopped her kale salad down and planted herself in the chair across from me. โ€œDid I miss the beginning of the inquisition?โ€ she asked breathlessly.

โ€œNope. Inquisition starts now,โ€ Gola said.

โ€œTell us everything about you, including how you met Dalessandra, how you got this job, and if you really called Dominic Russo a megalomaniacal monster to his face,โ€ Ruth said. She took a bite of her salad and crunched with enthusiasm.

โ€œUhhhh.โ€

โ€œOkay. Start with meeting Dalessandra,โ€ Gola said.

โ€œHey, bus stop buddy!โ€ My orange-sweatered pal popped up next to the table, clutching his wrinkled paper bag. He beamed hopefully. โ€œMind if I join you?โ€

โ€œHave a seat,โ€ I said, gesturing at the open chairs. Turning back to Gola and Ruth, I explained, โ€œWe met at a bus stop when Dalessandra gave us

both jobs on the spot.โ€

โ€œYou absolutely need to join us,โ€ Ruth insisted, patting the chair next to

her.

I breathed a sigh of relief.

โ€œThanks,โ€ he said. โ€œIโ€™m Buddy, by the way.โ€ He held out a beefy hand

that Ruth and Gola took turns shaking. โ€œIโ€™m Ally,โ€ I told him.

Gola wiggled in her chair. โ€œOkay, spill it, kids. What was Dalessandra Russo doing at a bus stop?โ€

Buddy unrolled his paper bag and pulled out a cute little sub, a bag of chips, and a Fresca. โ€œWell, I donโ€™t know what Ms. Russo was doing there. But Iโ€™d just finished one of those under-the-table painting jobs in the Village. And Iโ€™m sitting there at the bus stop, and I see Ally here talking to Ms. Russo. Ms. Russo is apologizing about something and then hands her a business card and is all โ€˜come see me Monday for a job,โ€™โ€ he said, theatrically producing an invisible card.

Ruth and Gola were enthralled, so I dug into my chicken.

โ€œIโ€™m thinking, this is my chance. One of those once-in-a-lifetime jobbies. I gotta say something. If I donโ€™t, Iโ€™m gonna regret it forever. So I pipe up, and I say, โ€˜You got any more of those jobs?โ€™ And when she looks at me, sheโ€™s isnโ€™t all hoity-toity. She says to me, โ€˜What can you do?โ€™ I say, โ€˜Whatever you need me to do.โ€™ So here I am. The newest clerk in the mailroom. I have a desk. I donโ€™t gotta paint anything. And once the health insurance kicks in, Iโ€™m taking my wife straight to physical therapy.โ€

โ€œWhy does your wife need PT?โ€ Gola asked. Another point in my book.

They were now more invested in Buddyโ€™s story than juicy office gossip. โ€œGot hurt on the job a year ago. She was one of those linemenโ€”line

lady, she liked to say. Anyway, she fell on the job. Seventeen feet and landed on her back on concrete.โ€

I winced.

โ€œBad spinal injury. Sheโ€™s in a wheelchair. She couldnโ€™t work anymore. Company fought the workersโ€™ comp claim. I lost my job for missing so many days after the accident. Without good health insurance, we couldnโ€™t swing PT appointments anymore. And that was the only thing that made her feel like she had hope, you know.โ€

โ€œBuddy, thatโ€™s awful,โ€ I said.

โ€œItโ€™s been a tough time,โ€ he agreed. โ€œBut I always knew there was light at the end of the tunnel, and now look at me. Sitting here with three beautiful ladies with a job in a big-time office and brand-new health insurance.โ€

I wanted to hug the guy and was deeply moved when Ruth actually did

it.

โ€œYouโ€™re a great guy, Buddy,โ€ Gola said, reaching across the table to

squeeze his hand.

He hooted with laughter. โ€œWaitโ€™ll I tell my wife!โ€

You'll Also Like