Chapter 2 #2
Akilah looks at her and points to the chair opposite as they sit down. They look good here. They looked good downstairs, too, but here, with the large wingback chair and the slight lean. The way their legs are probably wide under the desk.
There’s something about them that Tanner can’t figure out. People usually like her. She’s nice! Akilah doesn’t seem to care about that, though. Either way, Tanner can’t deny they have a personal style that works well. Luckily for Akilah, Tanner chooses projects she wants to work on, and not people.
If Akilah had a he/him badge on, Tanner would have left already because she doesn’t give men the benefit of the doubt.
However, there’s a chance they identify as a woman or non-binary, and Tanner will let them get away with murder because the world is already a lot, and she’s an awful people pleaser.
And Tanner does want this. It’s important to her. She doesn’t need it, but she does pick LGBTQ+ projects when she can. She’s always looking for ways to give back to her community.
Akilah looks at her once, then back to her desk. “I will get you a drink.” The scale between rude and nervous tips toward the latter.
Tanner raises an eyebrow. “There’s no queue up here?” Akilah ignores her and takes some time to reorganise the pens on their desk until they’re in height order. The caps aligned perfectly. The scale tips a little further.
“No.”
“I’m fine, thank you,” Tanner replies, pulling her portfolio out of her briefcase. It’s pink and faux crocodile print because it’s cute and she likes it.
“I don’t want the club to be pink.”
Tanner nods. There’s a chance she won’t need Akilah’s input at all. Muted colours, devoid of personality and a little bitter. She can work with that.
“Cool,” Tanner replies. She’s as unbothered as Akilah is. “We can negotiate. What do you want?”
“Something that looks the opposite of your portfolio.” Tanner frowns.
The scale topples so hard into the rude category she almost waits for a crash.
Her portfolio isn’t even open yet. Sure, Akilah could have done some prior research and decided she didn’t like her style overnight, but she could have let Damon know to text his mum to tell her not to bloody bother squeezing her into her schedule.
“I don’t want to negotiate.”
“Okay,” Tanner replies, shutting her portfolio. Akilah shifts in their seat. “So, what exactly do you want?”
Akilah glances away. The scales want to tip back. Alas, Tanner’s pride holds it to the ground.
“Are you going to turn everything down without a solid idea?” Tanner waits for them to reply, but they don’t. “Are you always this rude, or have I caught you on a bad day?”
They swallow. The first time they’ve shown any human qualities, not just a robot.
“I don’t mean to be rude. It’s efficient.” Tanner throws the scale out and takes a moment to watch them again. Hands still on the desk, but their forearms are tensed as if it’s causing them pain. Eyes stuck on a spot behind Tanner’s head.
“Knowing what you don’t want is fine, but you’re not giving me anything,” Tanner says as calmly as she can. She dislikes conflict, but spends too much on therapy to sit here and feel undervalued.
“Akilah, you’re not giving me grace to figure out if you want your club to look like your moody aesthetic, if you secretly adore mouldy floorboards, or if you want your club to be shut down in three months.”
“I don’t have an aesthetic.”
Tanner laughs lightly, though it’s not supposed to be cruel. “You clearly have a carefully curated style to make it seem like you are utterly lacking interest, and yet you have matched your rings to your belt.”
“I do not.” They’re practically sulking.
“You know I don’t have to do this, right?” Tanner asks, her elbow on the desk, her chin in her palm. It’s not the most professional, but Akilah did just tell her that her work was awful. “You asked me to come at the last minute.”
Akilah taps their fingers against the desk. Frustrated. That makes two of them. “Damon says you’re freshly graduated.”
“I’m not, his mum jots down facts while she’s doing my hair, so she gets some wrong,” Tanner replies, flipping her hair over her shoulder.
Akilah watches the movement, but that doesn’t mean they’re not a robot.
They act as if kindness belongs only to those who offer them something.
And one that happens to blush over glossy hair.
“Even if I was, I don’t work where I’m not valued.” Her voice doesn’t even shake. Fuck, she’s so good at being a grown-up.
Akilah swallows. “You are.”
She raises an eyebrow. Nervous or not, Akilah has to give her something.
“Prove it.”
As she expected, Akilah did nothing but trace a line on her desk. Tanner sighs as she looks at them, eyes swooping across their chest in a desperate attempt to find a pin and nothing at all to memorise the inky black lines that curve their neck.
“You don’t have a pronoun pin,” Tanner says as she slides her portfolio under her arm.
Akilah taps her short, burgundy nails against the desk again. “It means people are less likely to talk to me.”
“If that’s a genuine concern, you could probably avoid it by talking to them once.”
Akilah raises their eyebrows, and Tanner very nearly dies. Why has Roald Dahl been out here lying to kids that if they have nice thoughts, it’ll shine out of them like sunbeams when Akilah is halfway to a wanker, and Tanner wants to know if their lips are softer than their expression suggests.
“And you said I’m rude?” Oh, that voice. Tanner wants it to be the thing that sends her to sleep.
Instead, she stands up, pushing her chair back. “I’m stating the obvious, and I simply asked if you were rude, not that I think you are.”
“Semantics,” Akilah replies.
Tanner smiles as she walks to the door. Wipes it off her face as she looks back. “Pronouns?”
“She or her,” Akilah replies, head tilted to the side. They cross their arms over their chest, and it’s truly the most unfair thing that’s ever happened to Tanner in a day in her life. She bites her lip as she watches the tattoos on their skin bulge with tension. “Are you going to hex me?”
Tanner flicks her gaze to Akilah’s. There’s a chance they’re enjoying this too. There’s a chance she is just rude. Either way, Tanner doesn’t chase a job.
“That depends,” Tanner replies, her eyes roaming Akilah’s body. “Do you want me to?”
Akilah swallows, their cheeks flushing so bright the room takes on a ruby glow. She opens her mouth to speak, but whatever rebuttal she had dies as her tongue runs over her bottom lip.
“I won’t hex you.” Tanner pulls the door open. “I’m not going to think about you long enough for that, but I will need to give my friend a rundown on the hot, rude as fuck woman who made me come all the way here just to tell me my work is shit.”
Akilah’s cheek tics. Fingers flexing against her biceps. Tanner bets her feet tap the floor. She waits for her response, but not because she wants an apology. She wants to know what part she’s going to cling to.
“You think I’m hot?”
Bingo.
“Oh, baby, I think Damon should start a union, and the person you hire should charge you double.”