Pure Belleza | ✔️

(31)

"I don't get the whole 'do you want sugar in your coffee' question. Look at me. Of course I fucking want sugar."

Marnie sat across from me in our cubicle, staring at her computer screen while she ranted in her flat, monotone, sarcastic voice.

Her voice didn't go up. It didn't go down. It sat at the same pitch. Sort of how her expression was always bored or homicidal. Depending on her mood.

She was a short plump girl with large features and shoulder length brown hair, glasses and blunt bangs. Her lips and eyes were huge and hidden behind retro spectacles.

But despite the fact she had no enthusiasm for anything that life had to offer and she was almost thirty, she had still fast become one of my best friends in New York.

Our boss appeared beside our cubicle and tapped his pen on the thin wall. "Marnie. Do we have those numbers drawn up? The partners are coming in at around three. I need stats for the presentation."

"Yeah," she said, sipping on her coffee. About the only thing she had an immense passion for. "Sure. I'll pretend like I've finished the numbers since you asked me to do them twenty minutes ago. That's not unrealistic at all."

Jordan, our nice enough boss who was in his mid forties, wore too much aftershave and wore the same shirt but a different colour every day, narrowed his eyes as if he was suspicious about her claim. She was right though. He'd given her a big task less than half n hour ago.

He slowly nodded and gave her a tap on the shoulder. "No problem. Just before three."

He left and Marnie scowled at her shoulder. "I wish he didn't insist on these friendly 'it's not harassment if it's above the shoulders' pats. Thomas down in printing literally said he touches his penis at the urinal and leaves without washing his hands."

"Right," I said. "But Thomas did also tell us his Mom died from cyanide poisoning and then she was in here dropping his lunch off a week later. She's a very sweet woman. I think Thomas is a pathological liar."

"I'd hope so," she said, tapping on her keyboard. "Because he said he's had sex with your model sister at a bar in manhattan."

"My sister is in a serious relationship," I rubbed my temples. "I'm going to have to talk to Thomas I think."

"It really wouldn't even count as sex," she said and picked up her post it pad, scrawling out a quick note and sticking it on the edge of her screen. "I've had sex with Thomas. It was like being fingered by a teenager. Pathetic."

"Good to know," I said and tried not to visualise Marnie having sex with a teenager.

There were a number of tasks on my screen that needed to be complete. I had to schedule and confirm a number of appointments for Jordan with several different clients that needed marketing strategies drawn up for new products.

I had to email contracts and read over negotiations for existing ones. But it was all things I was able to achieve day to day. It was simple work that didn't get my stress levels up and I could go home at the end of the day without thinking about it.

Jordan appeared again and dropped a large thick envelope in front of me. "That's a contract I need signed. The dude is old school. He won't do a digital signing but he's here in the city. Some art gallery we're doing promotion for. Can you go and make sure he signs that."

He looked at Marnie. "Don't forget about those numbers."

She watched him leave and then let her bored stare settle on me. "If I throw myself off the roof of this building, can you take care of my parrot?"