Find Me Alastar(18)

“Planning what?” Hank calls.

“Operation Hump Hank,” I call as I pour the milk into the cups.

“Oh, f*ck off,” he groans.

“Yessss.” Vanessa giggles. “From now on you are our project. You wear what we say. You do what we say. Basically, you are our bitch.”

“Oh God. What’s f*cking new?” he groans and I laugh.

“We will have girls lining up for you,” Vanessa teases as she pushes his hair to the side of his forehead to try and work out a new hairstyle.

He swats her away and I hand him his coffee. “Don’t touch my hair,” he mumbles.

She smiles as she takes her coffee from me. “Extreme Hank makeover, coming right up.”



* * *



The thing I hate about being the new girl is basically everything about being the new girl. What do I do? Where do I go? Who do I talk to? Am I even allowed to talk? I stand nervously at reception in Chesters Auction House on my first day of work as the receptionist buzzes someone from the offices.

“Emerson Mathews is here.” She fakes a smile and I see her eyes scan me up and down. I don’t like this already. My eyes nervously cast down to take a look at myself in the mirrors on the lift doors. I bought this suit from home. I’m in a navy knee high skirt and blazer with an ice pink cotton shirt underneath. I even wore stockings. It’s a special day. I hope they wear this sort of stuff here.

“Send her up,” the bored voice replies through the monitor.

“Just go to level three.” She gestures to the lift. “And when you get there ask for Maureen.”

“Thanks.” I make my way up to level three.

The lift doors open and a girl around my age stands in front of me. “Emerson?” she asks.

“Yes.” Thankfully, I didn’t have to find my way to her.

She smiles warmly. “I’m Maureen.”

“Hello,” I murmur. “I’m nervous,” I blurt out. Oh, damn, why did I say that?

She gestures up the corridor. “This way.” She smiles. “Don’t be nervous.”

I follow her up the hallway and I look around at everyone we pass. Okay, I totally wore the wrong thing. Everyone here is super cool and trendy, not business like. Shit, I feel my discomfort rise. I continue to follow her towards the large door at the end of the corridor which opens out into a large space. My eyes nervously glance around at the busy hive of action. The main room is large and seems to be partitioned off into four sections and four offices branch off of the main room. Three glass offices and one with brick walls. She turns to me. “This way.” I smile nervously and follow her as people start to look our way. Oh, the dreaded new girl interest.

As we walk past the closed office I notice the sign on the door: Mark White. We continue around the corner where I am shown my desk. It’s in among a group of four others.

“I’m Travis.” A young man stands and shakes my hand.

“H-hello,” I stammer nervously. Travis sits down opposite me and two other women are seated at the desks next to me. One woman is kinda mumsy and nice looking.

“Hello.” She smiles.

The other woman looks like she crawled out of a music video clip. I fake a smile to hide my dismay at my daggy attire. She’s wearing a short, black, tight skirt with fishnet stockings, and an off-the-shoulder leather top. Her hair is styled in a pink crew cut. Hmm. Arty farty to a whole other level, but she looks hot. “Hello.” I murmur.

“Hello, I’m Dulcie,” she replies as she looks me up and down. Her accent tells me she’s Irish. I feel my heart flutter at the sound of that accent. Dear, God, I’m obsessed with anyone Irish at the moment, especially since my street kissing incident. I need to get a grip of this new obsession.

“This is your desk.” She gestures and I fall awkwardly into the seat.

“Thank you.”

“Make yourself a coffee.” She points to the kitchen. “And then I will show you around and give you the tour.”

I smile nervously. “Okay, thanks.” She walks off and I swing my chair around and turn my computer on. I just want this first day over with.

Travis must sense my fear and smiles sympathetically. “Come on, let me make you a coffee and show you the kitchen.”

“Thank you, that would be great.” I stand and follow him down the hall to the kitchen and lunchroom.

“Cutlery. Microwave…” He starts to point at the things in the kitchen before he opens the fridge. “Fridge. The rule is that if you didn’t bring it don’t ever eat it. It may have been in here for years and you will definitely die from salmonella.”

“Got it.”

“Except milk. Someone always buys milk. Milk is safe.”

I nod.

“You get an hour for lunch, but if you really want a break you will have to leave this place because the dickheads in here just come and ask you shit while you’re eating.”

“Oh, okay.”

“And you end up talking work while you shovel. It sucks.”

Travis is already growing on me.

He opens the cutlery drawer. “This is where the cutlery is kept, but I keep my own knife and fork in my desk draw, and I keep my coffee cup there, too.”

I frown.

He leans in to whisper. “Word is, someone on level two has a catchy STD and all other kinds of fungal face shit going on.”