For the first time in as long as she could remember, Monica was nervous.
She was sitting in her office behind her desk, a clear glass surface with fine oak drawers for privacy and matching table legs. The morning sunrise lingered behind her as it clashed with the city skyline, framed through a clear glass wall spanning the width of the office, in a view only afforded to those on the 46th floor of her company's building.
Monica straightened out her just-above knee length black pencil skirt as her right foot, clad in a matching high-heel, continued to tap against the thinly carpeted floor. She fiddled with the bottom button on her black blazer, partially blocking her white, short-sleeved blouse from view.
The weekend had come and gone, and Monday was here. Would he show up? Had he betrayed her and taken a job elsewhere? Had she misjudged him in the first place? What if he didn't show up? What if this was a prank of some sort, and he was still missing?
Monica's thoughts were interrupted by a woman's voice blaring over the intercom.
"Boss, your 7 a.m. is here," the voice said. "It's not him. I think it's that weird girl who called the other day."
"Hey!" a second feminine voice came through the speaker.
Monica could feel the frown forming on her lips. This was why she never put any faith in others, especially her employees, and she would certainly never be making that mistake again. It had been some time since she had felt such disappointment. Her first thought was to send this girl away and cease with these games.
Then again, how is it that the old expression goes? "Shoot the messenger," I believe? Monica mused, feeling her trademark haughty smirk returning.
"Show her in," Monica spoke into the speaker.
She turned her attention to her office door, which promptly opened as her secretary strolled into the room, the latter's wavy brunette tresses swaying gently against her shoulder blades with each step. Her tanned skin was partially hidden away by a white blouse and dark blue pencil skirt with matching heels.
But it was the blonde woman trailing behind, or rather her height, that stood out to the CEO.
"A Callie Voss here to see you, boss," the secretary said.
This girl was tall, maybe even taller than Monica herself. She was aware that her secretary was on the shorter side, but the top of the personal assistant's head was barely level with the young woman's shoulders. A pair of strappy brown high-heeled sandals guided the blonde's steps as she slipped beside the secretary, revealing her knee-length beige dress, a white sash tied at the hip. A small, thin-strapped black purse completed the ensemble.
"Thank you, Alyssia," Monica addressed her secretary.
With a slight nod, Alyssia took her cue to leave, exiting the room without further comment.
"You have your secretary actually walk your appointments in?" the young woman asked. "So cool."
Monica almost chuckled at the naive innocence of the young woman in front of her. This girl was making it too easy for her.
"Yes, well, even in this digital age, I'm still partial to the physical presence," Monica responded. "Which is why I must admit to being most disappointed with the absence of the man for whom this appointment was made in the first place."
Monica could see how the harsh condescension she had inflected into her voice immediately pulled this Callie girl out of her awed stupor.
"R-right, of course, Ms. Shale," Callie stuttered. "About that—"
YOU ARE READING
Roomies
Science FictionCallie has been having a rough go of it as of late, but little does she know that someone close by has it even harder than she does.
