Chapter 25 Chevy
Chevy
By nine thirty I had addressed all of the emails that I thought were pertinent. The rest of them would have to wait until tomorrow. Stretching my arms above my head, I let out a loud yawn.
I’d been up since five thirty that morning and was in no way feeling like partying the night away, but I didn’t have a choice; partying was now part and parcel of my job description.
So I shook the cloud from my head and pulled myself out of my chair.
With all the excitement, I hadn’t had a chance to look in the closet to see what that night’s outfit looked like. It was probably because I didn’t have a thing to worry about. Anja had great taste. I had seen her in many an outfit that I would have worn myself.
I opened the closet, and the first thing my eyes fell on was a plastic silver-and-white clothing bag. Nice, I thought, and was about to reach for it when I spotted the shoe box sitting on the floor beneath it. “Hmm,” I mused. I had a weakness for shoes.
I bent down and retrieved the box, which was labeled Dolce I had to be at work by seven; it just didn’t make any kind of sense to go home.
Now I understood why there was a walk-in closet, bathroom suite, and comfy chaise lounge. Once you signed on with La Fleur Industries, you would never see your family, friends, or home again.
***
I was up and at my desk by nine a.m. My head was pounding, and my eyes were swollen from lack of sleep. I turned on my computer and saw that in addition to the instructions Anja had given me the night before, there were also three new emails listing still more duties for me to perform.
This woman is straight-up crazy, I thought as I reached for the phone to make the first call of the day.
I decided that if this is how every day was going to be, seventy-five thousand wasn’t nearly enough.
***
What I wanted to do on my first day off was sleep. I’d been working for eleven days straight. Anja seemed to have an event every night and that included the weekends. I’d slept in Brooklyn only two nights since I’d started the job.
But Crystal knew that that Friday was payday for me, so bright and early Saturday morning she was blowing up my phone, telling me I better come straight to her apartment and give her some money before I give it all to my friends Barneys and Saks.
I started to blow her off and roll over and go right back to sleep, but I thought I’d better try to stay in Crystal’s good graces.
I’ve fucked her over about money in the past, and everybody’s patience and kindheartedness runs out sooner or later—so I pulled myself out of the bed, caught a shower, slipped into my Apple Bottom jeans, this rust-colored halter top I picked up from Urban Outfitters, and some three-inch-heeled mules, and I was out.
“So how’s the new job?” Crystal asked as she opened the door to let me in. Geneva was already there, preparing a salad for lunch.
I didn’t want to talk about La Fleur or the fact that when I got my first paycheck it was short $250!
When I called Accounting on Friday to let them know that there must have been a mistake, I was informed by Samantha that “No, there wasn’t a mistake, the two hundred and fifty dollars was for the lunches.”
“I thought those were free!” I screamed.
“Oh, no, Ms.Cambridge. If you read your hire letter, you would see that any meals taken in the cafeteria are automatically deducted from your paycheck.”
I was so excited about getting the job that I hadn’t read the fine print.
“But two hundred and fifty dollars!”
“If you like, Ms.Cambridge, I’ll email a list of your meals and their prices.”
“You do that!” I’d screamed before banging the phone on my desk three times and then slamming it down onto the base.
Before I could take a breath there was a ping sound on my computer. I glanced at the monitor, and looking back at me were large yellow letters that announced: You have mail, Chevy !
The email was from Samantha; as promised she’d sent a detailed breakdown of every meal I’d consumed in the cafeteria. I was so enraged; I picked up the phone and called Accounting again.
“Samantha. May I help you?”
“Samantha,” I began, my anger boiling over, “this just doesn’t seem right.
I mean there aren’t any fucking prices on the menu…
Had I known that a side order of mashed potatoes was ten dollars, I wouldn’t have ordered it…
It’s not fair, and I shouldn’t have to pay because I didn’t know… There aren’t any prices and—”
Samantha was silent for a while as I ranted and raved until finally she cut me off and said, “True, there aren’t any prices on the menu, because we here at La Fleur believe in the old adage: ‘If you have to ask, then you can’t—’?”
I hung up the phone on that bitch before she could finish her sentence.
Now, under Geneva and Crystal’s scrutiny, I just decided to lie. “It was fine,” I said, and took a deep breath as I mentally cleared my mind of the last two weeks. “So where is Neville?” I asked, desperately wanting to change the subject.
“Yeah, where is Neville?” Geneva chimed in as she plucked a cherry tomato from her bowl of salad and popped it in her mouth.
“I don’t know, out visiting friends,” Crystal said with an air of disinterest that I knew was forced. “Are you going to come down to Lola’s tonight to see Eric play?” she said, totally changing the subject.
“I dunno yet,” I said, and then blatantly I asked, “Have you fucked him?”
“Who, Eric ?” Geneva yelped, her eyes popping.
“No,” I said, staring Crystal right in the eyes, “Neville.”
“No! Why would you say something like that?” Crystal shouted, her voice filled with surprise.
“You ain’t fooling me, Miss Thang,” I threw at her.
“Are you?” Geneva pressed, moving closer to Crystal.
“No!” Crystal shouted again.