Back in the Saddle (Jessica Brodie Diaries #1)(17)

“Hphm. Well, Jenny’s gonna be trainin’ you here shortly. I expect that’s all I need to show ya. Can ya find yer way back?”

“I think I can handle it, yes. Thank you.”

He looked at me like I had an eye falling out of my head, and then turned his pot belly around and walked away.

Well…alright then.

I made my way back to the kitchen for caffeinated fuel.

As I was pouring coffee into my cup, someone walked in and stood behind me. I finished up by snagging a couple packets of sugar, which were right next to the coffee machine. No powered creamer. You would think a company this nice would have some freaking powered creamer.

“You new?”

I glanced over my shoulder. He was older than me, probably in his forties, with sandy blond hair and leathery skin.

“Yeah,” I responded with a half grin.

“Thought so. Everyone looks for the creamer the first time around.” He gave a good-natured laugh. “It’s in the fridge.”

“The fridge?”

“Yeah. It’s that big, white block that stays cold, even in summer.” He nodded his head toward the far wall.

“Oohh, that’s what they call it!” I laughed as I made my way, opened it up and real creamer! Like, the kind that needs to be kept cold so it doesn’t spoil. So much better than the powdered crap.

“Yeah, this company takes care of us," he continued. "You work hard, hit your goals and all the rest, and they keep you happy. And it seems to work for them, because even when the economy takes a downturn this company still makes money. Never cheat the farmers, either. They are straight up. Once someone is hired, they don’t quit if they can help it, or do everything they can not to get fired. There are a few idiots, but mostly people stay here for a long time.”

Was I dreaming? I landed a good job right after college. Maybe it had something to do with being over-qualified and willing to go to the bible belt from a liberal oasis. Who cares? Hopefully I could work my way up here.

“Where you from?” he asked as he filled his cup.

“L.A.”

“Oh whoa, a California girl, eh? Hot dang. Why would you want to leave California? Everyone here wants to get out to Cali--isn’t that what you call it? Cali?”

Bit of a chatter, this one.

“Once upon a time that was the ‘in’ name, yeah. A little passé now.” I threw him my winning smile to tell him I was being an ass on purpose.

He responded with a slack face. Maybe my ‘winning’ smile was a California thing. It didn’t seem to work in Texas. Maybe a toothy grin was a better way to go.

I had to work on it.

He blinked, a dreamy smile creeping up his face. Then he started laughing. I edged from the room.

“Oh right, passé!” he exclaimed. “Ha ha. Yeah, I am just a country kid, what do I know about the land of movie stars? Ha ha. Well, I am from Austin. The city, you know. But we are still country kids at heart!”

“Anyway,” I said, “I should get back. I have to get settled then start training.”

“Oh sure, yeah. What are you doing, anyway?”

“Some sort of Accounting. Entry level, but I just finished college so I took what I could get!”

“Oh yeah. Got to! Fer sure, right? Fer sure, doood! California! Surfer girls! Ha ha. Anyway, see ya ‘round alright? Ha ha ha ha!” He was shaking his head as I moved away.

What did they put in the coffee here?

Back at my computer, I setup my email with the post-it noting my sign-on, then looked around. I could hear some phone conversations and see a tall, tree-like plant in front of a robust woman across the cube from me. She was putting something away at the back of her cube; otherwise I would only see her in profile.

She had some crazy large hair. It was a teased, dyed blond mass on the top of her head, held there with lots of Aqua-net. Her outdated pant-suit squeezed overly large br**sts until they were trying to bust out the top. It wasn’t doing wonders for her waist, either. She looked like a homemade sausage, all lumpy in weird places.

Unfortunately, it was at the time I noticed her boobs that she noticed me looking at them. Perfect timing, as always.

“You the new girl?” she asked with attitude and a thick accent.

“Yes. I’m Jessica. I just finished setting up--”

“You don’t gotta bother explaining what it is you ain’t doin’.” she interrupted. “Like workin’. Who is supposed to be showin’ you what’s what?”

“Um, Jenny? I’m not sure. I was just told this was my cube.”

“Well, if I wauz you, I would find myself someone to show me my job, and stop gawkin’ like you wauz as nervous as a ling tailed cat in a room fulla rockin’ chairs!”

She turned around in a huff, slammed the drawer that was opened, got into her suddenly burdened chair, and turned toward her computer. She was now mostly out of sight behind the fake, leafy plant.

Je-sus!

Sorry to take your name in vein, Lord, because I am sure you hear me louder here than in L.A., but seriously! What. A. Bitch!

I was still staring in shocked silence when a head popped into view. It was a girl about my age, maybe a little younger, with long, straight brown hair, freckles, and large, almond shaped eyes. Her prettiness was diminished slightly by too much foundation make-up.