Ziggy has screwed up four messages today and dropped a full cup in reception, shattering it and sending Madagascar spice herbal tea everywhere, but nothing can kill the smile Jack put on my face last night.
And again this morning.
I hum happily as I pick up the shattered remains of the cup and mop up the tea. Screw meditation and yoga—all it took to unwind the past couple of months of stress was a little naked time with Jack. He was so cute on the way out the door. I asked him if he had everything. He started patting himself and called it his ready-to- go grope. He keeps his phone and keys in the same pocket every time, so he pats himself while running out the door. It saves time and he knows right away if he's missing something.
I offered to do it for him, which led to another round of sexy shenanigans that almost made me late to work.
God, it was even better than I'd imagined. The memory alone is enough to bring a smile to my face again.
Phyllis strides in with a razor-thin blond with sharp features, mean eyes, and three children. "This is the office, Marjorie. Would you like a tea before we start?"
"You don't have coffee, do you?" She turns her nose up at the selection of teas.
"Of course. Sarah."
"Yes?" I squat to sweep the bits of Ziggy's shattered cup into the dustpan.
"Coffee." She says it like I'm simple and do this every day but have mysteriously forgotten that it's an expected duty. But I don't have time to be running to buy drinks for people when the phone is ringing and there are people in the lobby.
"We don't have any, but the bodega next door has an amazing French roast." I smile up at Phyllis and continue cleaning up the tiny slivers of glass. Man, Ziggy really broke that cup good. Opa! I chuckle.
"Wow. Is she always this unprofessional?"
My head snaps up. Marjorie glares at me while her kids run amok, throwing magazines on the floor. One's found a pen from my desk and is drawing on the wall.
"Can you..." I motion to the burgeoning artist.
Marjorie ignores her kid, crosses her arms, and moves closer to Phyllis. They just stand there, glaring at me. I don't know who I dislike more between the pair of them.
Same crappy attitudes, but at least Phyllis doesn't come with a posse of destruction.
"Sarah, I've got Marjorie in for the next hour and a half. Keep an eye on her kids."
What the hell? "Um, no?"
"Excuse me?" Phyllis straightens to her full height. She's taller and larger than I am, but she's too addled to intimidate me. "Look, bitch, Marjorie is my friend, and...she's a client. You need to do your very best to see that she gets the most relaxing Inner Space experience we can provide for her."
"What's this?"
Ziggy's appearance behind me explains Phyllis's sudden professionalism.
"Slight disagreement, Ziggy. Phyllis's client is here, and Phyllis asked that I watch her kids while they're in session." I raise my eyebrows and smirk at Phyllis, knowing Ziggy can't see my face. He'll back me up on this at least. I'm his receptionist, not a babysitter.
"Well, what's the issue?"
He can't be serious. I have thirty-seven things to do, none of which will get done if I have to sit here and watch Marjorie's hell-spawn—now tearing pages out of the magazines and tossing the pieces about like confetti. "The laundry won't get done if I'm stuck to the desk."
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Missed Connections
RomanceMissed Connection: I saw you standing there, and I was struck by your eyes. Gorgeous, but not as gorgeous as your smile. What should have been a sizzling NYC summer has been hijacked by demanding bosses. To cope, I spend my nights cruising Missed Co...
