Reaching Lily. Vivacia Ahwen K

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СКАЧАТЬ throat dry as a gulch, I swallowed hard enough that it hurt while looking at Gwen, waiting for her to say her inevitable right thing.

      ‘Aw, shucks, kid.’ She punched me on the arm. ‘But, fuckin’ A, you two totally had the “five-minute marriage”, I’m telling you.’

      ‘That works. Thanks, Gwen.’

      I thought so, too, and I guess she didn’t need to tell me whether I imagined that smouldering exchange. But yes, she did need to, because at the time I was even more insecure than I am now, and I would likely ask her to tell me again later in a weak moment. Normally I second-guessed anything which brought me a bit of joy, since life continually proved me wrong, every chance my silly little life got.

      ‘Come on.’ Gwen snapped her fingers. I was staring ahead, lost in my head and surely looking catatonic. ‘Let’s go, Lily.’

      We headed toward the steps as the tube squeaked forward. I turned my head one last time, hoping for a final glimpse.

      Not disappointed.

      Because there stood the stranger, hanging onto a tall, steel pole. He looked out the window, and caught my eye once again.

      There was a good, solid, old-school I see you and see you seeing me see you moment.

      Then he grasped the pole tighter as the train jerked ahead with a warm, sympathetic, whoosh.

      And then he was gone.

      ‘Lily’s got a boyfriend,’ Gwen singsonged.

      Nothing’s changed, Lily, said a horrible voice inside my mind. Don’t go getting all happy and cocky. Go look in a mirror, and see if you still imagine that sexy thing would look twice. He was looking at Gwen, not you.

      But this time I refused to listen to, or feed, the troll of my own self-doubt. I shook my head, trying to empty my mind and go back to my joyful space, which I should be allowed to feel. Because I was different, and liked myself a little better than I did, out sitting on the steps at South Station, hanging with the pigeons. They were special, too, I guess. In their little pigeony way.

      Gwen and I ran up the steps together, excited to be out of the dark, back in the sunshine, where beautiful girls belong.

       Chapter Two

       Holder Tight

      We arrived on the eighteenth floor at 9.07, only to find our tiny corner of Apollyon apocalyptically empty.

      ‘Fuhhck,’ I said. ‘Where are we supposed to be?’

      ‘Next floor up. Important And Mysterious Meeting,’ Gwen said, smacking her forehead. ‘Scheduled for Monday morning at nine sharp, and three email reminders last week. Thank God I persuaded you to be a responsible adult.’

      ‘No doubt.’ I peered around at all the abandoned cubicles. ‘Better to be fashionably late than not show at all, right?’

      ‘Time will tell.’

      * * *

      President Colossimo had a thing about punctuality – I suppose most bosses do – and since the Important And Mysterious Meeting appeared to be about something unpleasant to Mr Colossimo, he would be neither pleased nor amused by our tardiness. Gwen and I were both due for another written warning, and I was betting that this was our not-so-lucky day.

      Gwen turned to me, fingers to lips. ‘Shh …’

      ‘Duh,’ I whispered. Stagefright. My stomach churned, and I was rethinking that breakfast burrito.

      ‘OK.’ Gwen shifted on her feet. Despite her devil-may-care bravado, she was one of the most scared people I’ve ever met.

      Still is.

      Brave but scared.

      ‘We so fucked up,’ Gwen said, as we trotted down the hall toward Conference Room Three.

      ‘I fucked up. You came and found me. And made me get on the train.’

      ‘True story.’ She gestured towards the door. ‘That means you go in first, buttercup.’

      ‘Yeah, OK.’ I surreptitiously opened the door of the conference room, where Mr Colossimo was holding court. He stopped, mid-sentence, and his bloated face was less than welcoming.

      ‘Ladies,’ he said, voice dripping with Mean Old Man sarcasm. ‘So glad you could join us.’

      All heads turned – because late-comers who make the punctuality of others look awesome are fascinating – but our mumbled apologies were ignored by all-powerful Mr Colossimo. He cleared his rattly, jowly throat and continued. ‘As I began to say, by way of introduction: on my left is Joey Danforth, a.k.a. “New Kid On the Block”.’

      He delivered that with ‘air quotes’, of course, and there was fake chuckling around the long table. What a bunch of suckups. But the heat was off Gwen and me now, and 35 curious faces took a look at the nervous new gofer, thankful for the distraction and reprieve.

      ‘Joey’s joining the Apollyon HR team, so Joey is always ready to –’ Mr Colossimo looked quickly at his legal pad ‘– lend an ear. Maybe he’s the “New Kid”, but we’re the – hold on.’ We waited while he looked back at his notes. ‘Funky bunch.’

      Did Mr Colossimo really need to check his notes for this unfunny patter? Jesus. I hated him in a very unwholesome way right then. Anyway, poor Joey The New Kid. I waited for Gwen to text me. Sure enough:

       new guy jo=totaly mark walbrg, undrcvr, RIGHT ;)

      While adorable, Joey Danforth was no Marky-Mark. Really, Gwen. Luckily my phone was on vibrate.

      Under the table I typed back:

       STFU&no more txt

      ‘Dawna Jamison, tell us about the DVDs.’ Mr Colossimo gave a full-denture smile, or his closest reasonable facsimile. The attempt looked more as though he were gritting his falsies. ‘It seems we’ve had a good month?’

      Dawna was in marketing. She seemed cool, far as I was concerned, though Gwen called her Team Slut. But when Gwen got all snarky on coworkers like Dawna, who came and went, I always said, ‘Not a slut, she just likes suggestive clothing.’ Trashing other girls isn’t my thing. For the most part.

      Seeing as, if one were to be fair, I might have fallen into the slut category.

      A slut on hiatus, but a slut nevertheless.

      A secret slut.

      ‘Fabulous,’ Dawna Jamison said, beaming. ‘The Golden Ticket for the Pretty’n Pink free weights we put out with Joni Smith’s “Lite-Weight-Late-Nite-She-Bop”? It was retro-brilliant?’

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