Alpha Incorporated

II - ii A WOEFUL SUITOR

It is Sunday evening when Lucy remembers she told Isabella she would try to get her an appointment with the new CEO of Alpha Incorporated. What reminds her of this promise is when she goes to log into Alpha-Ghetto, the online chat room that has become popular among the employees. Lucy, as had become her habit recently, includes a visit to the Ghetto after she has run her course through her other social media platforms. What she likes about this site is that the anonymous users all work at Alpha. The chat room is accessed from a link originally emailed internally to employees, and in the few months since its inception, has quietly spread to become the virtual gathering place for those who want to kick back and have some fun. It is like a community pub with a secret door, hidden behind the official online clubs and cafés. Everyone is welcome, provided they can find it.

But this Sunday, instead of seeing the welcoming orange banner, Lucy runs into a blank page on her laptop screen. She refreshes the page, but still, it is clear that the site is down. She wonders if the recent company crackdown has anything to do with the chat room being closed, then remembers that Claude is being fired, then recalls—she thinks—that she told the new girl living in her rental apartment that she would try and help her brother somehow. The memories are starting to come back now. That was a hell of a night, Friday. Lucy isn't really sure exactly what she promised to do.

"Fuck," Lucy mumbles under her breath as the night's conversation becomes clearer. Why did she open her mouth and get involved in their mess? But she knows why. She just can't help herself when it comes to stirring the pot. It isn't about hurting other people, or helping other people, and it certainly isn't about her trying to look good or getting ahead at work, it is about her own entertainment.

Lucy reaches across her desk, picks up her phone and dictates a text message to Meghan, a friend who now works in the CEO's office:

Hey babe. Do you think you can get an email through to your new boss for me?

The reply is instant:

Sure Lucy. I'm his spam filter you know. What's up?

I told a friend that I would try to get a message to Angelo Lord. She wants to talk to him about her brother. The guy that is getting sacked for screwing his secretary.

Good luck hon. Mr. Lord won't have time for her.

I think he might. Tell him that it is the girl from the stage, the one who was wearing the dress.

K. will do. Have her send it to his private email: thetopdog1604@gmail.com

Thanks babe!

Lucy smiles. She likes being messed up in this, after all. This will be fun, she thinks, and scrolls through her contacts to stop at Isabella Measures. She hits the message icon and types:

- You are in! thetopdog1604@gmail.com. bcc me on all!

Lucy stands, stretches, and walks to the kitchen, intending to make a pot of tea, a Sunday evening ritual of hers that has survived from her time with James. She still thinks of him whenever she has tea, and like tonight, she allows the memories of their years together to come to the surface. Maybe it comes from living alone, but she enjoys his imaginary company and the moments they share. The rest of the time, she tries to keep James Tyrell in the background. She knows he is always there and has come to realize that he will always be there, somewhere.

Since she won't be online chatting up the Ghetto tonight, Lucy contemplates how she will finish her Sunday evening. Comedy, probably. Lucy hasn't been in the mood to read much lately. She has found a few good Romances online recently, but somehow finds it difficult to stay focused on the story. Too many distractions with instant messaging and emails. Yes, a good old fashioned situation comedy would be a perfect way to end the weekend. A Netflix night.