Peeling Back the Top Layer 🇯🇲

3| Girls' night out

Having to work is overwhelming but with a hefty mortgage and other bills coming at me monthly, I am left with little choice in the matter. My parents did a horrible job at preparing me for adulthood. No one told me that it would become monotonous.

I'm grateful for my job. After all, it's part of the reason I could achieve all that I have. But work for most people, is a never-ending cycle of working, resting to go to work, and making preparations for work. Everything is centered around work! I often find myself wishing I could go back to the simpler times when my only issues were chores and schoolwork.

My daily commute to the office is usually the time I use to plan my day. This morning, I am contemplating my approach to the plagiarism issue. It's fine to borrow pieces of other people's work when writing but it's paramount that the source is appropriately credited. In addition, lifting an entire article and then passing it off as your own is downright unethical.

I settle on inviting her to my office for a one-on-one talk. It's a Friday, so I just want it ironed out as quickly and smoothly as possible.

"Good morning Shanice. How are you?" I greet the tall, slender young woman with the brightest smile I can muster when I enter the building. She has the body of a supermodel and I imagine that anything she wears fits her magnificently.

"Hi Miss Taylor. I'm fine," she replies.

"Just Kelsie please. Would you please join me in my office?"

"Sorry... Kelsie. I'll be there shortly."

Not wanting her to preempt our pending conversation, I nod and smile curtly before trodding back to my office. Shanice joins me not too long after, closing the door behind her and taking a seat at my request. My knack for projecting a calm and pleasant demeanor even when I'm brimming mad is on full display.

"Did you have any help with this piece?" I inquire, handing her a printout of the piece she submitted.

"No mam. It's my work," she replies, shifting awkwardly in her seat and leaning forward. She's jittery and uncomfortable. Looking her directly in her eyes I place the printed copy of the article I found online before her. She chuckles nervously, "let me explain".

We're interrupted when my desk phone rings. The subeditor is trying to find out when the article will be ready for placement. I put the call on hold and ask Shanice how soon she can redo the piece and she vows to have it ready by lunch. "You'll have it by two o'clock," I tell the subeditor before hanging up.

Turning my attention back to Shanice, I shake my head disapprovingly. "Please don't think plagiarism will go undetected. If you have trouble writing an article please let me know ahead of time. You're a trained journalist so you of all people should know better."

"Honestly, I was dealing with some personal stuff and never want to miss the deadline. It won't happen again," she assures.

With an exaggerated sigh, I tell her, "Just redo it and make the necessary attributions."

Our company publishes a number of books and magazines locally and in the Caribbean region and being second to the chief editor, I cannot afford to have any oversight on my part.

I'm momentarily distracted from my work when my phone buzzes. There's a new message in the group chat with my two best friends. Since we've grown and are each living busy lives, we agreed to go out together on the last Friday or Saturday of every month.

The message confirming the venue and time for our monthly meetup is from Gillian, a wedding dress designer who specializes in all things for the bride. She's married to her childhood sweetheart, Ricardo Matthews, and together they have two darling kids.

My other friend Marsha owns a hair salon, an online clothing store, and has multiple other streams of income ranging from car rental to investing in the stock market. She is a 'sugar baby' and a free spirit who gave up on love. She flirts a lot but phone conversations and going to a few parties is as far as it goes — at least that's what she says.

Gillian and I always tease her that deep down she's in love with 'Big Daddy', the old politician she has been with since our university days. Her life is the most "interesting" of the three of us and for tonight, she claims to have big news in store for us.

As promised, Shanice delivers the article by lunch and I'm able to wrap up my day by 3:30 pm. Time to sip and chill with my girls!

I grab my things and on my way out, look to tell Miss Jay goodbye. But she has company. She's having a seemingly friendly conversation with a slender young man in her cubicle. And he's quite tall, around 6' 2". From this angle, he's quite an eye candy, that is if his well-toned arms are a preview of the rest of him.

Nuh tell me seh a young boy she find cause by di look of things him nuh much older than me.

As I'm approaching her desk, I glimpse his face from the side and cringe. His hair, which he apparently wears in a high-top fade, is badly in need of grooming. So does his facial hair. To add to his thug look, he's wearing distressed jeans and a sleeveless hoodie. What a disappointment.

All wah a gwaan him smell damn good though.

Once Miss Jay looks in my direction, I wave goodbye and turn towards the exit, not wanting to get any closer to her companion.

******

Within 15 minutes I'm home and spend the afternoon getting ready for my girls' night out. I choose black high-waist skinny jeans that accentuate my small waist and hug my hips, a sleeveless crop top, and strappy six-inch heels. I've never been shy about showing off my neat frame but these stilettos are sky-high. Mi jus hope mi no drop.

My natural hair is pulled back into a low bun and my edges are carefully laid, with a few loose strands to frame my oval face nicely. Lastly, I apply some light makeup just to even out my caramel skin tone and highlight my features. Satisfied with my look, I check in with Gillian for our ride. We have a specific taxi driver we call on GNOs so we don't have to worry about drinking and driving.

At 8:30 pm, we stumble into the packed, dimly-lit restaurant together, laughing at Gillian's misfortune. She nearly fell flat on her face when we got out of the taxi. Her shoe heel got caught in the loose seat belt as she was stepping out of the car. Fortunately for her, I got out first so she bumped into me, and was able to break her fall.

Gillian looks splendid tonight. Her bodycon dress falls just above her knees, sitting snugly on her stout body and showing off her round ass and broad hips. She's the curviest of the three of us, sporting that figure since we were teenagers. She was often mistaken for a grown woman. 

We choose a table out on the terrace since all the indoor spots are taken. Marsha joins us 45 minutes later, long after a waitress brought us menus, water, and appetizers. She ever late!

One thing with her though, she knows how to dress herself to bring focus to her flat stomach and big boobs in such a way that it gives an hourglass illusion. What she lacks in hips she makes up for with a booty that is chiseled to perfection.

"Guess where mi flying out to next month end?" she asks excitedly the second she sits.

Gillian and I exchange glances then both shrug. Our eyes open in awe when she says "Cancun, Mexico".

I chuckle and shake my head but Gillian launches a full-out attack, telling her to clean up her lifestyle. "When yuh a go put some value pon yuh crotches? Yuh no think a time fi yuh lef people man alone?!" she yells over the music, attracting the stares of a few other patrons seated at the table next to us.

Marsha has been through a lot, handled some deep hurt, and has made some poor choices over the years but I'm not sure she deserves Gillian's judgment right now.