Chapter Text
Sometimes you just have to pee in the sink.
Natalie Scatorccio
*
As she stands outside the tall window building, we see Natalie Scatorccio lighting a new cigarette on an almost burnt-out one.
She cursed a few times under her breath but the wind blew and it’s like she’s talking in her head. Her thumb’s tip stinged from the lighter and its fire.
Essentially, the cigarette caught the spark and she could finally laugh. She took her cell phone out of her suit pants and went into the camera app to take a photo of her possession, then she made a mental note to buy cigarettes—and alcohol.
Natalie’s motorcycle—a Honda Fireblade—is parked on an accessible spot, so on her way inside, she doesn’t forget to accentuate her broken leg, limping hard as she forgot her cane at home. Kevyn, her roommate, uses it to either put his dirty clothes on, or to reach the switch. She is cursing him on her attempt to pull the door that has PUSH written on it in caps.
Inside, some people—mostly receptionists—greet her and high-five her. She waited pleasantly for the elevator to arrive, checking her new watch out.
Ding!
The elevator’s doors opened and Natalie went inside, careful to step with her right foot first. She doesn’t believe in superstitions really, but that witch from underneath her apartment had already put a curse on her. One broken leg and working at this company is enough to deal with. As she turned around to face the doors and press on the eighth floor button, she saw no one other than Misty fucking Quigley. It takes one single strand of curly blonde hair for Natalie to press the button like her life depends on it—and truly, it does.
“Hey, Nat—“ Misty waved eagerly, the smile on her face almost like those two bitches from The Shining. That movie still gives Natalie nightmares. Misty, too.
The door closed.
Natalie could finally breathe again. She wiped the imaginary sweat off her forehead and exchanged glances with the red digit that tells the floors. She usually makes small talk in her head to prepare for the hell awaiting her on the eight floor, but this elevator has music. Pop music.
It shouldn’t get too long to get there—
Ding!
She arrived at the eighth floor, the doors opened, and she stepped outside ready to slam her head in the first glass wall she found. The smell of coffee, chain-smoked cigarettes and papers welcomed her back after an extremely well spent Sunday. She adjusted her bag’s strap when a voice called after her. “Nat! Wait—“
It’s Charlotte Matthews—or Lottie as everyone calls her. The nepo baby. Daddy’s girl and everyone else’s joke.
Sandra is the slim tall, ear-ringed bedroom damsel dressed in a long gown, she’s always high in heels, spirit, pills and booze…
She likes young neat unscratched boys with faces like the bottoms of new saucers. Silent blonde zeros of young flesh who
a) sit
b) stand
c) talk
at her command.
Sandra looks very good in long gowns…
Charles Bukowski
Lottie is indeed the slim tall, ear-ringed bedroom damsel, who wears high heels despite her already long legs. Pretty long legs. The kind that are full of bruises, especially on her knees, smooth and toned. Natalie spent enough summer days to stare at her legs and let her eyes go upper—or wander as she calls it—every time the brunette would’ve bent. God, she misses those summer days…and those fancy mini skirts. She wishes she were the boss and Lottie the secretary. Like in that one movie…Secretary? Yeah. She’s pretty sure that’s what it’s called. Very subtle title, though.
“Hey, Lot.” Nat said, still limping—not as hard.
“Hey! Have you seen that powerpoint I sent you?”
Powerpoint…what powerpoint?
Natalie squinted her eyes, reading Lottie’s nervous expression. Powerpoint…sent to her…huh.
Throwback to one—or two nights ago:
before the ten shots, before the strip club, and before she got high with Kevyn—a notification did pop up on her laptop. She just doesn’t remember anything about it or if it was from Lottie.
“Oh, right! Well, sad news, my laptop broke.”
Lottie’s eyes widened for a second, “Oh-umm, It’s okay. Really, it’s not a problem. You can definitely delete it—Is it too hot in here or am I?” she tugged at her tie to loosen it, “Why are you limping by the way? I thought you healed.”
“Yeah I did, but my motorcycle fucking fell over it.”
(She got too drunk and fell over a stripper, also the parking ticket is too expensive; she can’t afford it. It’s better to make everyone believe she’s a cripple, and in a way, she is).
“Oh my God! Are you fine? Did you go to see a doctor?”
Natalie nodded, and continued walking (limping) to her desk, Lottie still following after her like a puppy. “I hope our boss will pay…this time.”
“Taissa said you need more evidence to press charges,” said Lottie, readjusting her tie. It’s a cute tie. Natalie wished it was wrapped around her wrist instead.
Natalie scoffed in response. Far better than groaning—or moaning. What more evidence do they need? The video of her falling down the stairs is enough. She wished their boss hadn’t shown it to everyone in the office. She was popular on Twitter for one whole week. One!
They reached Natalie’s office, which is positioned right in front of Lottie’s glass office. Not facing, though. It’s more of her desk being in front but facing another desk.
You get a prettier one if your daddy is Malcom Matthews and you’re a manager, Natalie guesses. Anyway, Lottie’s office is nice. It has a fancy desk that can go upper or lower—depending on your liking—Lottie likes to make it go higher so she can stand instead of sitting. Natalie can’t complain; she more than enjoys to stare at the brunette’s bony and tan cleavage every time Lottie has to type in something or read.
The brunette continued to talk about something related to work that Natalie couldn’t care less about. She took off her messenger bag and placed it on the desk, proceeding to take her laptop out—
“—I thought your laptop was broken.”
Nat looked up at Lottie like a deer in the headlights. Fuck. She really doesn’t want to lie to her…again.
“It is!”
Lottie’s eyebrows furrowed, “Then why did you bring it?”
Right. Fuck, she forgot Lottie’s a College Graduate.
Instead of coming up with another stupid lie that would make her even more untrustworthy, Natalie sucked in a breath, her hands coming to rest on her hips. “You see, Lot, it’s not about you, okay? It’s just that on Fridays I like to drink, and I enjoy doing it as much as on Saturdays. Then, on Sundays, I am either drunk or hungover. Get me?”
“Nat, it’s alright—“
“I promise that I will check it out.” Natalie said, “Right now even!” she nodded and pointed at Lottie who was still gripping the collar of her shirt.
“No, Nat—“ Scatorccio reached to lift the laptop’s lid only for Lottie to rush and close it right after. “What’s wrong?”
“It was bullshit!” Lottie stuttered, “If I was you, I would press on it and drag it to the bin named ‘Van’ without hesitation.”
Natalie raised an eyebrow in confusion, “How do you know my recycle bin is named Van?”
“Doesn’t matter.”
Natalie narrowed her eyes, glancing between the laptop and the sweating girl.
Lottie grabbed her collar’s shirt and pulled at it. “It’s really hot in here. I should call Jeff to fix the AC.”
“It’s winter.”
Lottie’s face furrowed then her eyebrows shot up with realization. She nodded. “Yeah, right. Aren’t you always right, huh?”
Natalie huffed and pulled her chair to sit. She rested her bag against the desk’s leg. Lottie figured out that Nat might have work to do so she excused herself and ran to her own office. After the tall brunette left, Scatorccio leaned in her chair, chewing on the pencil inside her mouth. Lottie always acts weird. She’s always with her head in the clouds, distracted by everyone else. But now? Today? She’s never been like this.
Nat looked back at Lottie’s office only to see Lottie at her own desk, head in hands until her eyes lifted like she knew she was being watched. She saw Natalie staring at her with that stupid pencil in her mouth—the little pink eraser between her teeth.
Matthews got up and closed the curtains, leaving Natalie with a huge shit-eating grin. “Fuck you, Matthews” she whispered and got to work.
*
Her mother always used to tell her that the most important thing is to love yourself first and then love the others: Jackie, a man won’t ever love a girl who’s drowning herself in fats and ice cream. If you have the ability to love, love yourself first.
So she tells herself this in the mirror, every single day before work, finishing it with a smile every time.
White fabric—cotton, probably—filled the frame. The camera zoomed out to the point where we could see the arms, too. The sleeves were rolled unevenly—one pushed past the elbow while the other one barely made it past the forearm, like she gave up halfway through. Or like she’s trying to sell ‘I don’t care, I am cool and relaxed’ but at the same time she isn’t.
“Is it okay, can they see me?”
The camera shifted slowly to the left and then to the right.
A quiet, and firm no.
She exhaled softly, “Maybe you can pull back or—zoom out? That’s what it's called, right?”
The frame widened as the camera pulled back until we could see a burgundy tie cut with black diagonal lines, and a name tag, reading ‘JIMMY’.
“What about now?”
The camera tilted up and we saw no one else but Jackie Taylor, in flesh, trying to fix her bangs but actually not doing anything.
“Hello, people…in the camera! I can see you! Hello!” she waved at the camera, leaning forward, “Hello—“
The camera tipped forward, falling against the floor. The screen turned black. “Derek,” Jackie said flat, “you dropped them!”
*
The door opened, and Jackie stepped aside to let the camera enter before her.
The frame captured the whole office as it came to life once the cameraman stepped inside: phones were ringing, printers were humming and choking with paper, voices were overlapping.
Jackie cleared her throat and the camera turned toward her. Derek, the cameraman, walking now backwards.
“This is our new office building.” Jackie said, smiling too brightly. “Mr. Matthews was extremely nice to offer us his old office after…well, our old one burned.” Jackie empathized ‘burned’, voice low, but maintaining her grin. “This one’s really huge compared to our old place…Derek, carefull—“
Derek was on the ground after he bumped into a co-worker, “Dude, what the fuck! I spilled all my coffee!” a man shouted. “I’m going to catch you!”
*
Jackie held one of those film set clapperboards, ‘TAKE 3’ written on it. She inhaled and exhaled in an attempt to calm her nerves and not huff and puff like an old locomotive.
Come on, Jackie, if you have the ability to love, love yourself first. Okay…great…just like daddy taught you; smile and nod.
“You ready?” she asked Derek.
The camera tilted up then down.
“Okay. Welcome! We’re in MattMal’s old office building—thanks to Mr. Matthews, a true gentleman—who offered us his old office after ours burned down.” Jackie nodded and smiled for too long.
Derek waved his hand for her to continue.
“Right. So…Brian, our boss, is out of the state to get a surgery—should take two, maybe three months to, you know, heal. And, uh… he’s hired a film crew to document how we run the office without him. He said it’s a way to sell the business.”
“Not sell it, exactly. More… promote it?” She gestured vaguely to the walls. “Show other firms we can handle pressure, make things work…all by ourselves.”
Jackie smiled, nervous. The camera caught her glancing at Derek.
“Come in!” Jackie gestured, “This is our printing room.”
She walked to a yellow, old printer, leaning against it and slapping it. “This one is…pretty old, but it does work.”
“Actually, let me show you.”
Jackie opened the lid and put in her ID, then she pressed the copy button. It took one minute for the printer to take the command but once it finally did, it choked with paper. “She needs some water.”
Derek muttered something off camera that couldn’t be heard from the knocking sounds coming from the printer.
“It’s a bit warm…” said Jackie, touching the printer’s sides. It made a loud banging noise, making the girl flinch and move away from it.
Derek sniffed. “It smells like something burned…”
Jackie leaned cautiously closer to the printer, afraid it would knock her in the face. “Oh, my god. Unplug it! We can’t burn another one!”
*
Two out of the three printers were out of service. The only one available being used by Shauna Shipman.
Jackie side-eyed the camera, holding the stack of papers against her chest. She sucked in a breath, deciding to approach Shauna, but before she could, Shauna slapped the printer hard, “Fucking cunt!”
Jackie flinched and her huge eyes widened even more. She gulped and took her life in her hands, cautiously approaching the satan herself.
“Sup, Shipman.”
Shauna turned her head to look at Jackie and scoffed, “What do you want?”
“I’m here to print some papers, heh…” she laughed nervously, side-eyeing the camera once again.
“You need some help? Let me help you—“
“I don’t need your help Jack—“ she lowered her eyes to read the name tag, “—Jimmy.”
“It’s Jackie.”
“Is it?”
“You have been ‘Bobby’ for a week when you started working here, remember? It was so funny—“
Shauna rolled her eyes. “I was Bob because my name tag took time to be made. You’re Jimmy for two months! You are not even as good as Jimmy. It’s a disgrace to wear his name tag.”
Jackie cleared her throat trying to pull the it didn’t hurt me card. “So…what are you printing?”
“None of your business.”
“Well…in a way…it kind of is. I’m the Administrative Assistant so—“
“Just because Jimmy left and you had to get promoted doesn’t mean you need to know everyone’s business, okay?”
Shauna bent to look inside the printer, not paying any attention to Jackie anymore. She opened the printer’s door to see if it choked with some paper.
Jackie took a step closer, balancing the stack of papers against her chest like a shield. “Right…well, maybe I can just…wait here?” she offered, voice tighter than before. “I need to print these out for Taissa.”
Shauna lifted her eyes to look Jackie up and down, snorting before turning back to the printer and hitting it again. “I’m not a dragon. I won’t blow fire at you.”
“Right...” Jackie put her papers on the other printer. “Come on, though. Let me help you.” smiled Jackie, “Spanking it won’t make it work.”
“Fine. Do whatever you want Jimmy.”
“Yeah-yeah-yeah. So funny.” Jackie rolled her sleeves better than before and placed her hands beside Shauna’s. “This is an old trick,” she said before shaking the printer.
Jackie continued to shake the printer while Shauna remained still, staring at Jackie’s tattoo behind her ear. She frowned. It’s not the tattoo that made her eyebrows knit, but the scar around her ear. It looks like it was stitched there. Like someone bit her ear off and she needed to put it back.
“Ey, see, you need to show it a little love, Shipman.” said Jackie, patting the printer, which is now working. Shauna twitched when Jackie turned to look at her. “Something wrong?”
“Stop calling me Shipman, I hate it.”
“Since when?” Jackie huffs, “I’ve been calling you Shipman for five months.”
“Since always! Now get the fuck away.”
“Wowzaa, Shipman! What crawled up your ass out of the sudden?”
Shauna crouched to grab her papers from the ground. She shouldered Jackie and left without looking back or saying another word. She did stop to give Derek the stink eye.
*
“Uh…Natalie.”
“Only Natalie?” asked Derek.
“Scatorccio.”
“Scatorchio?”
“It’s Scatorshio. How the fuck do you know how it’s pronounced?”
Derek shrugged.
“You Sicilian?” she asked.
Derek shook his head behind the camera. “Italian? You from South?”
He still shook his head. Natalie got up from her seat. “Okay, are you guys working with the cops? ‘Cause I need to know.”
*
“I’m Jackie! Jackie Elizabeth Taylor. But you can call me Jackie Taylor—or just Jackie.”
She gulped and looked at the camera. Derek tilt it down, “Could you stop looking in the camera?”
“Uh…sure.”
*
“Sup, dude!” Van leaned forward to shake Derek’s hand. “You don’t remember me?”
Derek shook his head. “Aww, man! We worked together on that porn!”
“Which one?”
“Ben Affleck, Matt Damon, Good Will Hunting secret ending. It was titled…Which could mean nothing, I’m pretty sure.” Van said, nodding her head. “It’s probably from this mustache—” she pointed at it, “—that you don’t remember me.”
Someone said something off-screen.
“Yeah, it’s fake! I wished I could grow one but I can’t.”
*
“Charlotte Isobel Matthews.” Lottie said, shaking his hand because she saw Van doing it. “You can call me Lottie, though.”
“You’re Malcom Matthews’ daughter?”
“Yeah. He’s my father. Biological. Born and raised me—I mean he didn't birth me! Just…contributed.”
*
“Shauna.”
“Shauna Shipman?”
“How many Shaunas are there?”
“One.” said Derek, looking through the workers’ files.
“Then why did you ask ‘Shauna Shipman?’ If there’s only one? Are you dumb?”
*
“Taissa Turner, in-house lawyer and future State Senator.” she smiled and reached to shake his hand.
“Nice to meet you, Taissa.”
“Ms. Turner for you.”
“Alright. Ms. Turner.”
Taissa lifted her arms. “I was joking.” she laughed, smoothing her skirt. Derek faked a laugh and gestured for someone else to come inside for the interview.
“That’s all?”
“Sorry, Taissa. We’re in a hurry.”
“Alright,” she got up and the frame only captured her lower body; her head being cut. “Oh, another thing. Would you mind if you write something about me for my portfolio? It helps with—no? Okay.”
*
“I’m Jackie Taylor, and I am the newest Administrative Assistant. I’ve been working here for…huh…” she paused, and looked at the walls like they had the answer, “three years?”
“You ask me?”
“Three years.”
Derek touched his right shoulder, “What’s with…”
“What?” Jackie asked, looking down to her left shoulder.
“No—my—your right…” Jackie looked to her right.
“Yeah. There. What’s with the name tag?”
Jackie glanced down at the name tag on her shirt, pinching the edges between her fingertips, “Oh, this one?” she laughed, “It’s an inside joke.”
“Would you…like…tell us the inside joke?”
“Oh! Umm…Jimmy was the administrative assistant before me, but he left two months ago to work with our rivals. So, as the hard-working I am—and one of the first very few workers here—“ she leaned forward, lowering her voice and lifting her hand to cover the side of her mouth, “and probably the hardest working one…but don’t tell Lottie.” She dropped her hand, “Brian decided to finally promote me! He didn’t have time to make me a name tag…yet. But he will.”
“So…where’s the inside joke?”
“He calls me Jimmy instead of Jackie. But he does it as a joke. It’s really funny. He’s like Jimmy, come here, boy!” said Jackie, deepening her voice to sound like a man’s. “We are really close—me and Brian. We’re like a son and father duo.”
“I guess he can see me, right?” asked Jackie pointing at the camera.
Derek shrugged. “Hi, Brian! We all miss you!” she beamed, swinging on her feet.
*
The camera only captured a leather jacket, a black tie and the shirt underneath it. “You sure you don’t work with the cops?”
“Brian hired us to make a documentary. We are not with the cops, miss. Could you please sit down now?”
“Sure…but if I find you lied,” she pointed at him, “I’m…going to do something. Not sure what yet. But I will.”
*
“I’m Natalie Scatorccio. Scatorchio. You got it right the first time. I am the Creative Strategist, and I’ve been working in this shithole for almost two years.”
Derek gestured for her to continue talking.
“Oh, shit. You want me to continue?”
“Yeah. That’s the point of the interview.”
“Apparently, I got into Rutgers and I studied advertising.”
Derek flipped the paper on his clipboard, concentrating on reading something. “You were also in a band?”
Natalie jumped up again, throwing her hands in the air. “Seriously, are you working with the cops?!”
“Jackie, I read here that you went to Rutgers? Did you play any sports—or was it just close to home?”
“I have played soccer since middle school because my daddy—dad,” she shook her head, a wave of embarrassment visibly washing over her face. “My dad played soccer in high school.”
“Your co-worker, Natalie, also studied there. Do you guys know each other?”
“Natalie? Of course I know her! We both went to Wiskayok High, and also were on the varsity team.”
A beat.
“She took one year off after high school, though.”
“Jackie? Jackie Taylor? What’s up with her?”
“I don’t know how to say it…” Derek fidgeted with his rings, “Has she always been like…this?”
“Annoying? Obnoxious? Stupid?”
“All of the above.”
Natalie snorted. “You don’t even wanna know. The first day of college she came and showed me the whole campus like we were back in high school. She never got over it. You must see her desk; she has her files sorted by colors and first letters.” Natalie scoffed while shaking her head. Then she leaned forward, “Also, her as the administrative assistant? As bad as her being the Yellowjackets’ captain.”
“Let me tell you that.” Natalie finished.
Van sat on the couch with one arm draped across the backrest. One leg thrown over the other. The one planted on the floor bounced, tapping the floor in a steady rhythm. “I’m Van Palmer. No, I’m not related to Laura Palmer, even though I wish I was. I’m the Operations Assistant, and I play The Sims 3 when I’m supposed to be working.”
“For how long have you been working here?” Derek asked, playing around and zooming on the ketchup stain on her tie.
“Man, it must be three solid years by now.”
“Do you enjoy it?”
“Mmm…not really.” She tilted her head to stare up at the wall. “Nope. I don’t think so.”
The camera pulled back.
“Some other stuff about me…hmmm…I put salt in your coffee if you ask me for one. I like spreading rumors and gossiping. Probably my favorite thing about this job.”
She switched her legs, and crossed her arms. “Something else… I wear different name tags every day to confuse people. I got called Dan my first two weeks working here. Now my Letterboxd’s username is: Danwiththevan. I don’t usually wear this mustache, but I used Gorilla Glue and now it’s stuck.”
A small pause. Derek zoomed on her mustache before pulling the camera back.
“I downloaded porn on Jackie’s computer once, so we’re probably being spied by chinese hackers now. I wanted to be a filmmaker but I called Woody Allen a creep and now I’m on the black list. I did some porn. I wasn’t the star though, more of the person behind the camera. I like sending memes to Natalie. I love making fun of our boss. And Jackie.”
“Van—“
“My favorite movie is Boogie Nights, but not because of the reasons you’d think. My favorite tie is the blue one with ducks that I used to repair the ice cream machine after me and Natalie broke it. I love gossiping. Didn’t I say that one?”
“Yes you did. Van—“
“My favorite color is probably—“
Derek put his head in his palms. “Van,” he called behind the camera, “You don’t need to tell us everything about you.”
“Oh—Okay.” She looked down at her tie, holding the end of it between her fingers. “Do you like my tie? It’s signed by David Lynch.”
Her legs stopped bouncing out of the sudden.
“Aww, man! I spilled barbecue sauce on it!”
*
“Derek, Brian called and he said you need to take Turner’s interview again.” someone said behind the camera.
“Oh God!” he groaned, “Bring her back in!”
*
“So, Lottie, for how long have you been working here?”
“Umm…” Lottie’s eyebrows furrowed, “Two years and three months.”
“Do you think your daddy had something to do with you landing this job? Being a nepo baby?”
Lottie smacked her lips. “I am not a nepo baby,” she assured, “Believe me, I’ve been to Columbia where I studied marketing and business. I played soccer since third grade—“
“Oh, my God! What’s up with you all and playing soccer? You’re the fourth one.”
*
“Taissa Turner. I’m the in-house lawyer and I’ve been working here for almost three years. I studied history and philosophy at Howard before I graduated Columbia Law School.”
“What’s your specialization?”
“Land use.”
Derek choked with his coffee. “Land use? How did you end up here?”
“It’s a long story. I don’t want to bother you with unnecessary stuff.”
“Alright. As you wish.” He laughed, “Did you have any inspiration on your journey?”
“Quite a few,” she sucked in a breath. “I’m going to say Kamala Harris. People at Columbia used to call me a gay Kamala.”
Lunch break was starting in twenty minutes and thirty-five seconds exactly; Van had the timer on her phone. Usually she uses her lunch break to go smoke ten cigarettes with whoever she finds available—mostly, she takes Lottie with her because God knows that girl needs some nicotine to calm her tits.
Now, though, she hasn’t seen Lottie all day, which is unusual because usually she’s around the office drowning in her thoughts, tripping over something, or staring at the walls while Taissa tells her how stupid Nat’s ideas are and that half of them break forty different laws.
If Van needs a buddy to smoke with, she goes to Lottie. If she needs a buddy to smoke weed with, she goes to Natalie. And that’s what she’s doing right now.
“Sup emo girl falling down the stairs.”
Natalie looked up at Van, cursing her whole family line. “I’m not even emo.”
“Tell your eyeshadow that.”
Natalie narrowed her eyes and stuck her tongue out. “Your mustache is ugly by the way.”
“I know,” Van breathed, her shoulders slumping. She swept the papers on Natalie’s desk to sit on it. “My dog, Timmy, you know Timmy, stole one and ate it.”
“What does that have to do with your current mustache being ugly?”
“Oh. Nothing. I used Gorilla Glue and it’s pretty stuck.”
Natalie snorted. Van is the funniest person in the office in her opinion. If it wasn’t Kevyn who was her best friend, Van would’ve definitely been her best friend. “Am I your best friend, Palmer?”
Van stared at her legs dangling off the side. She lifted her hand to twist the corner of her fake mustache.
“What takes so long to say yes or no?”
“I’m thinking!”
“Think faster!”
“I guess you are. I mean Lottie is up there, too, you know?”
Lottie. Right. Where the fuck is she? Natalie turned to glance at the office that still has its curtains closed.
“About Lottie…have you seen her all day?”
Natalie rolled her head back to Palmer, popping her mouth. “She walked me to my desk. We talked a bit and then she turned red like a raspberry and left.”
Van hummed. “No one entered or left that office in hours. Do you think she’s still alive?”
“She doesn’t seem the kind to kill herself in her daddy’s old office.” Van said, leaning to snatch the apple on Nat’s desk.
“Enjoy…I guess.”
Van took a bite of the apple, chewing thoughtfully. “Maybe I just check on her.” Natalie said, getting up.
“Wait—what if she’s…”
“She’s what?”
“Enjoying herself.” Van gestures to her boobs.
Natalie narrowed her eyes, “Why would Lottie touch her own boobs?”
Van shrugged, “She’s a boob girl.”
“Sure…” Natalie nodded. “I’m going to check on her. Talk to you later?”
“Fine.”
Natalie grabbed her phone off the desk and headed towards Lottie’s office until Van called after: “Wait. I came to take you to smoke weed!”
“Not now, Palmer.” Natalie said, “later.”
*
“Lottie?” asked Nat, raising her eyebrows, “I don’t know, man. She’s like the type of girl whose parents would pay other kids to befriend her. I’ve known her for two years by now. We both started working here around the same time.”
…
“First impression? To be fair, the first thing you see about her is her looks. The first night I met her I stalked all her socials. She seemed like a normal girl, but then we got stuck together in an elevator. She started talking about some shadows. And voices.”
*
“Nat? Umm… I personally think we would have been friends in high school.” Lottie admitted with a grin. “Or maybe we would’ve hated each other until I gave her a ride in my father’s beamer.”
“Like a date?”
Lottie’s eyes widened, “Next question?”
*
Derek invited Jackie to take a seat. “So, Jackie, what’s your impression about Shauna?”
“I think she has a little crush on me. You know she’s playing the I hate you I wanna kill you card but I truly think she doesn’t know how to express her feelings. I have seen Shauna reading fanfiction one time when we’re closing. I didn’t say anything of course but I saw that she was reading some enemies to lovers. I really think she’s trying to push that trope with us.”
*
“Jackie? You mean Jimmy?” Shauna scoffed, rolling her eyes. “She’s really annoying. I hate her and almost everyone in this corporation really. She always makes those stupid faces in pictures. I really hate her.”
“Do you read fanfiction?”
“What?”
*
“Oh, Van? She’s really fun. We work together pretty often so I guess I know her pretty well. We mostly spend time in the printer room and,” she lifted her hand to cover the side of her mouth, “don’t tell my father, but we smoked weed in that room once. We started talking and we it got past 3AM, so Jeff locked us. We slept together—I mean besides each other. She likes to be the bigger spoon.”
*
“Taissa? She’s really pretty. What, did she say something about me?”
“She said you two slept together.”
“Really? I always knew she had a little crush on me but I didn't know she was dreaming about me.”
“I don’t really recall anything about dreaming. She said you two smoked weed in the printer room and got stuck together.”
“Oh, right! Did she say we slept tied to each other?
*
“Natalie said you bought her a perfume for her one month sober anniversary,” Derek said, “did you buy it because she stinks?
“What? No! It was a gift. I didn’t know what to buy her. I thought I could show her that alcohol is not always bad and that you can use it in other ways than drinking.”
*
“No, man. She totally meant it like I stink—which I don’t.”
She leaned forward, grabbing the collar of her shirt and pulling it to Derek, “Seriously, smell me.”
Natalie lingered in front of Lottie’s office for a few minutes. She didn’t know if she should knock, or go inside directly. She paced around, tugging at the death skin on her bottom lip, conspiring.
She could go to Van and smoke weed. Eventually, Lottie would come out of her shelter to eat or drink.
The thought of going back to her desk and see what that powerpoint is about made her stomach turn. Natalie thought about it plenty. The whole day.
What if Lottie sent her a presentation with different reasons why they should fire her? Or what if Lottie sent her some…photos?
She might look like a good girl, not the kind to take filthy pictures of herself in lingerie, but it’s always the ones you last expect.
Part of her wanted to see the contents of the powerpoint, but a part of her wanted to just talk to Lottie. To be fully unaware of what it’s hidden. Of what made Lottie turn into a raspberry and lock herself in her office.
Knocking on the door was the best decision: “Lot? Are you in there? Are you…alive?”
Natalie could hear shuffling behind the door. Drawers opening, papers and books being stuffed somewhere. The sound of a laptop shutting down.
“Yes, Nat? What’s wrong?” Lottie shouted to be heard.
Natalie took a step closer to the door, pressing her palm against it, and her ear. “I just want to talk. If that’s okay?”
She couldn’t hear anything anymore. Only her heartbeat. She could feel the pulse in her fingertips. “I’m not sure…” Natalie said, her eyebrows knitting.
“Sure about what?”
“I don’t really know…Are you mad at me?”
“Mad? What, no. Nat, I’m not mad at you.”
Natalie swallowed hard. “Do you wanna fire me?”
She heard Lottie getting up from her desk and heading over. Natalie took a step back so she wouldn’t fall over Lottie once the door opened.
“Why would I wanna fire you?” Lottie was frowning. She stepped aside to let Natalie come inside, but the blonde stood still, tilting her head to look inside the office. As if someone would’ve been there.
“I’m fine here.”
“As you wish…”
Natalie fidgeted with the ring on her middle finger. She was taking it off and putting it back on. She twisted it until it accidentally pinched her skin. “I don’t know how to start…” she breathed.
“With the start.”
“Thanks.” Natalie flicked her eyes to look at the taller girl. God, she was tall. Good thing she wasn’t wearing heels, too. “You stormed out when I wanted to go through that…cursed powerpoint—“
“Nat—“
“Lottie.” Natalie said. “For your own wellbeing I didn’t see it. And I’m not planning on doing so until you don’t turn cherry red when I mention it.”
“—I’m not blushing.”
“Didn’t say you were. I had the intrusive thought that the presentation would be your way of saying you’re going to fire me. Which I get. In a way…”
Lottie’s face looked like she was really needing to use the restroom. “We are not trying to fire you. I am not. I don’t know about the others, though.”
“So…what’s in it then?”
Matthews scratched back of her neck, closing her eyes. “It was dumb. Very dumb. Jackie level dumb. I don’t know why I sent it to you in the first place to be fair. Maybe I thought it would have gone different. You’d have seen it before coming here today and…” she wanted to say something but instead she bit her tongue.
“It’s my fault then?”
“What? Nat. It’s not your fault. Can you stop blaming yourself?”
Natalie shook her head, nodding after Lottie gave her a look. “It’s better you delete it. Maybe not forever. But until I die.”
Natalie looked contrited. She looked at the floor: “I don’t want things to change between us. I like when we can talk and argue. Mostly argue.”
Lottie chuckled and wrapped her arms around Natalie’s neck. Her nose nuzzled against the bleached hair. “I like arguing with you, too.”
Natalie embraced her, one hand moving lower on Lottie’s back. “Don’t touch my ass.”
“Sorry.” Natalie snorted, grinning so hard her dimples formed. “Let’s go smoke with Van.”
*
Scatorccio and Palmer are sharing an awful wrapped joint (Lottie’s fault) while Matthews hit her cherry flavored vape.
“Oh god. How much weed is in this?” Natalie asked after the first puff.
“About 40%. I got it from the guy under the bridge.”
Lottie huffed. “You will see Jesus Christ if you smoke any more.”
“I will see stags instead of people,” said Van, bringing the joint between the lips. “Do you think he put shrooms in it?”
“Can you do that?”
They all shrugged.
*
Van was playing the Sims 3 on her computer when Derek came and zoomed in on her desktop.
She had a feeling she’s being watched, so she twisted the ends of her mustache and turned her head to see if someone’s around. To her left were only a bunch of co-workers doing their job, and Natalie secretly vaping. Which is weird because a few weeks ago she said she’ll buy Lottie cigarettes for the whole year if she quits vaping. Anyway, Van drifted her eyes back to the game. She continued to try and make Rihanna release a new album, but like in reality, the sim didn’t take the command.
She still felt her hair standing up on her neck. Someone’s warm breath against her neck. She leaned back in her chair, sinking in it.
Derek now pulled back and concentrated to zoom in on Melissa, the one with the hat, not the one with five cats and two dogs at home waiting to comfort their owner in her misery.
Van saw something behind Melissa. A black thing sticking out over the fabric partition wall.
It must have been the weed but Van swore what she saw was a gun.
*
Pss, Melissa!
Melissa drifted her eyes to the side, taking her pen out of her mouth. Her head remained to rest on the heel of her hand.
Psss, Melissa!
“Okay, what the fuck,” Melissa thought. She scanned the room with her eyes but nothing seemed out of the ordinary. There’s Shauna cursing her computer, Ben Scott chatting with his boyfriend on the phone, and an empty seat at Van’s desk. She turned her head back to her computer, saying to herself that is just her imagination playing with her.
“Psss, Melissa! Are you fucking deaf?!”
Someone pinched her ankle and she squeaked.
Van was on the floor, under her desk, motioning for her to shut the fuck up.
How the fuck did she even get there.
“Are you okay?” Someone asked, unidentified, until Melissa lifted her eyes to see Shauna’s head popping up over her desktop and the small partition wall. The brunette’s face was frowned. And her nails were red, with black dots; Melissa noticed.
“Yes—“
“Why did you scream like that?”
Melissa felt Van’s fingertips on her ankle, close to pinch her skin again. “Why are you prairie dogging?”
“I’m what?” Shauna asked.
“You’re—nevermind. I’m fine. I clicked on a link and Momo popped up on my screen.”
Shauna’s face slightly relaxed and she chuckled. “Funny,” she huffed before sitting back down.
Melissa pushed her chair a bit to look at Van, who gave her a thumbs up. Then she pulled her chair closer to the desk, accidentally crushing Van’s finger with the chair’s wheel.
“Ouch! What the fuck, Mel?”
“I should ask you that!” Melissa whispered. “Why are you under my desk? I seriously don’t want head from you—“
“What?! Like I would give you.”
Melissa hit Van in the shoulder with her foot. “Spill.”
“I think someone’s following us. I heard some noise and I could sense a—like a—“
“—bad energy?”
“Close.”
Melissa pulled her chair closer to the desk. “I meant close as in you’re close to the word, not come closer!”
“Man,” she breathed, “I really don’t know what you want from me.”
Shauna’s head popped to the side of the wall, frowning at Melissa again. She tapped the fabric to get the blonde’s attention.
Melissa tilted her head outside the box. “Oh—hi Shauna. How are you?”
“Are you talking to someone?”
“What? No! I’m just talking to my computer. These files are really tough. I never know what they want from me,” she nervously laughed, kicking Van’s hand away from her ankle.
Shauna nodded like she understood. Then she went back in her box and continued to stare at the computer clueless.
“Hear me out.” Van whispered-shouted. “Are you hearing me out?”
Melissa tapped her foot in response. “I was minding my business…working, obviously. And then out of the sudden I felt someone watching me. As I turned—nothing. But after that, I turned towards you and I saw something behind you.”
“W-what did you see, Van?”
“I’m going to hold your ankle when I say this…I think someone’s trying to snipe you.”
“Snipe…me?”
Van held her ankle tighter like she was trying to comfort her. “I’m so sorry dude,” she cried, “I promise I will tell everyone how nice you were!”
“Oh my god…I knew I shouldn’t have clicked on that link,” Melissa started crying too, “I really thought he was a Nigerian prince!”
“Aww, no…Melissa…”
“So sorry, Van.”
Melissa got up from her chair, lifting her arms in surrender, “You can shoot me! But—please…” she sobbed, “do it outside.”
Natalie chewed on the end of her pen, turning at the same time with everyone to see what Melissa’s doing. At first she thought she was hallucinating everything. Then she thought everyone was hallucinating, too.
“Melissa, what the fuck?” Shauna shouted, eyes wide.
“Shauna—please, don’t! It’s okay. It’s going to be okay.” Melissa’s lips were trembling. “Oh, God,” she looked up, “There’s a shooter! And it’s my fault.”
Everyone on the floor started to scream and scatter around. Natalie watched everything with wide eyes and dilated pupils.
*
Jackie was doing her interview when the hell began. People were running and pushing each other to get to the elevator faster.
What got her attention was the person thrown against her office’s window. “What the fuck is going on?”
She yanked the door open, storming inside: “What’s with you people?”
No one heard her.
She moved on toward the nearest and calmest person in the office; Natalie. Jackie spotted her standing beside her desk. “Nat!”
Natalie’s body turned involuntarily when Jackie pulled her by the shoulder. “What’s going on?”
“I. Don’t. Fucking. Know.”
“God, Nat! Your pupils are enormous. Did you smoke on the building’s property?”
“Fuck I did.”
“Can’t fucking believe this! Are you trying to burn us once again?” Jackie stared at her with huge eyes, trying to pick any emotion on Nat’s face.
Jackie released her and started to scan the floor. She then saw Melissa standing up with her hands behind her head. Van’s head was poking out from underneath the desk.
“DID SOMEONE PLANT A BOMB?” she yelled but her voice could barely be heard over the screams.
“The elevator is stuck!” Someone screamed.
“Melissa what the fuck did you do?!”
Melissa stood, shaking, she couldn’t even form a coherent thought.
Jackie made eye contact with Shauna, who was as confused as Jackie. “She fucking got up saying there’s a shooter!”
“A shooter?” Jackie repeated. She then turned around, scanning the room for any masked men with a rifle in hand. She only saw the cameraman.
“Dude, what the fuck.” Jackie snapped. “Brian is going to see that! Turn it off!”
Derek tilted the camera down, mimicking turning it off. Jackie got up on a desk, screaming: “EVERYONE OUT! GET THE FUCK OUT!”
*
Clusters of employees gathered in the parking lot and along the sidewalk. Some were crying. Some just stood there in stunned silence, arms wrapped around themselves.
Jackie was pacing in front of Van and Natalie who were standing pressed against the bricked wall, looking like two kids scolded for eating chocolate.
“I’m so mad at you two—three.” she finally said, pressing her lips hard together. Jackie then turned to Melissa who was scratching her shoulder, arms crossed. She really was really feeling guilty.
“I would have expected from these two—but you, too, Melissa?”
“Jackie, I swear! I didn’t smoke any weed.” she pointed accusingly at Van, “She came under my desk whispering about some shooter! I fucking freaked out!”
Jackie held her hand up. “I heard enough.”
She shook her head like a disappointed mom. How can you get so high to think a camera is a fucking snipper? Yeah, well, probably in the same world you’d believe a Nigerian prince would shoot you for not sending him money to see you.
“Oh, wow! Jeez, what happened here?” Taissa asked, a bag of Chinese food pressed against her chest. She frowned when she saw Van looking up at her like a kicked puppy. Natalie was poking her cheek with her tongue.
Lottie clicked her tongue, eyes wide and eyebrows raised, “Did we set another one on fire?”
“Ask Natalie. Or ask Van!” Jackie hissed. “I’m going to make that loser Derek delete the footage before Brian fires all of us.”
Natalie narrowed her eyes behind Jackie’s back.
“What do you guys have there? And where the fuck have you been?” Van asked, brushing her mustache.
Taissa blinked. “We went to get food. For lunch. Like we told you.”
“When?” asked Natalie.
“God, Nat. Your pupils are huge!” Lottie exclaimed, passing the bag to Van so she could lift Natalie’s head and inspect her eyes. “I told you, you’re going to see God if you smoke any more.”
“Yeah, well. Whatever.”
Lottie wrapped her arms around Natalie’s waist, bringing her closer. “They will really fire me now.” She muttered, angry.
“You can always crash at mine. Snort has two beds anyway.”
“I’m not sleeping in your dog’s bed, Lot. I’m a lady.”
Taissa was trying to not laugh at Van.
“What?” Palmer asked, “Why are you looking at me like that?”
Taissa burst into laughter. “I was really trying not to. But that mustache makes you look even more funny.”
“Yeah-yeah-yeah. Laugh at the idiot in the room.”
“You’re not an idiot.” she said. “And we’re outside.”
“Why aren’t you mad at me? You should be screaming and rolling your eyes at us.”
Taissa nodded, closing her eyes. “I should.”
She paused. “Me and Lottie smoked half a joint, too. Don’t snitch.” Taissa whispered, pressing her finger against her lips.
*
“I’m Jeff. Jeff Sadecki. Some stuff about me…man, I’m the everything guy.” he said with a wide smile. “Need coffee? Call Jeff. Need to switch a lightbulb? Call Jeff Sadecki, bitch!”
He lifted his ass off the couch to take something from his back pocket. “This is my contact card, if you want one?”
Derek shook his head.
“You sure?”
“Yep.”
“Alright…As I said—“
*
“I’m Randy.”
“For how long have you been working here?”
“Umm…I don’t work here. I work at UberEats and I just bring food. Jeff is my best friend.”
“So you just…linger around?”
“Kind of. I mean, I know some of these girls from High School.”
Derek shook his head looking around the room, “Get him out of here!”