Fit For You

Chapter 1: Blast From The Past

Now-

Monica sashays in and her sunglasses clad eyes run all over us, searching for the next soul to torture. Exaggerated clicks of her Christian Louboutin alerts everyone, silencing the whole floor. All my colleagues suddenly look busy and productive as though they weren't just gossiping or loitering about. I do the same and try to hide behind my laptop's screen.

Monica's PA, Cassie, is tailing behind her, adjusting her big glasses as she tries to keep up with Monica's big strides, while juggling her Hello Kitty notebook and pencil in other hand. The stark contrast between the two is almost funny. If Monica is lordly, opinionated and bitch-boss then Cassie is clumsy, sweet and too innocent for this world. How in the world Cassie managed to get hired as Monica's personal assistant is still a mystery.

Monica pauses in the middle of hallway and takes off her sunglasses. Her piercing green eyes do another quick scan of the room... until they land on me. Shit!

I quickly avert my gaze and pretend to be busy typing something on the laptop. Not me, not me, not me...

"Avery Scott! My office!" Monica shouts before she disappears into her office with Cassie. Fuck!

My coworkers breath sighs of relief and I curse under my breath.

"Your time has come. May the forces be with you," snickers my friend and colleague, Chris. His desk is next to mine.

"Fuck off," I groan and reluctantly get out of my seat to do the she-devil's bidding.

Monica Heston, aka she-devil, is the editor-in-chief of Attire Talks, a monthly magazine covering pop-culture, celebrities and everything fashion. She runs this office like a military camp, shooting orders, giving stringent deadlines, and firing people without a second thought once they 'stop being a worthy asset to the company'. No wonder she's feared by everyone here.

Every morning when she walks into the office she calls one of us in her office, starting her morning with the grilling of unlucky specimen. Jobs had been lost, grown men had cried and sometimes even security had to interfere during these dreaded morning sessions.

After working for three years at Attire Talks, a misfortune like that is yet to befall on me. But that doesn't mean I look forward to being called for this ritual of hers. You see, one way or another Monica manages to get under your skin with her snooty gaze and slicing remarks, and like everybody else, I too rather avoid that.

I plaster a big smile on my face before knocking on her door and gingerly stepping inside. "Monica, a pleasant morning. Isn't it?" I greet her, keeping my voice cheerful.

Monica sits on her custom-designed chair cross-legged and looks at me as though my mere existence offended her. "Don't be so loud for god's sake. Cassie hasn't brought my coffee yet."

Cassie, who is standing next to her, immediately perks up. "Oh, I'm sorry! I'll get it right now."

"Take your goddamn notebook with you," Monica stops her before she can rush out, pointing at her Hello Kitty notebook lying on the table.

Cassie snatches her notebook from Monica's table, stumbles over chairs, and then apologizes profusely before finally finding her way out. Monica sighs at her assistant.

She then turns to me. "How's your column coming up for next month?" She asks without beating around the bush.

"It's good. It's still a rough draft, but I'll run it through you once I am done."

"Sweety, it's going to be run through me regardless," Monica comments then signals me to continue.

"I'm writing about women in comedy. The comic scene is changing, so it's a hot topic right now-"