Picture of Imogen: Lauren London
***
Monday, October 1
I drove my beat up Kia to work Monday morning. I hate it. Oh, not my car but my stupid job. My boss is a forty-year-old pervert and my co-workers hate me.
I try to be nice. I always try to be nice because you never know what they're going through but why can't they be nicer when I'm being nice to them. Most of them hate me for no reason at all. I don't hate any of them.
I park my car and get out of it. I slam the door closed and pull down my short black pencil skirt that is very tight. My white button up is crushed up and tucked into my skirt and my black heels hurt my feet.
My boss says I have to wear them if I want to keep my job. He says I'm just too short. I agree with him. It's cold out so I get my jacket from the back seat and slip it on.
I walk into the large building. My job is to get people to buy Mr. Peters' overpriced car parts and such. It's very professional and a normal business but it's just way too expensive.
Mr. Peters' says there's no other way to do business.
"Ah, Ms. Johns!" Mr. Peters yells as I walk in. He's a tall but fat man with a bolding head. Every time I see him it gives me the chills.
"Good morning, Mr. Peters," I say.
"Get started right away. There is much to be done. And that is a very nice skirt you're wearing. Makes your rear look glorious," he says showing off his weirdly white teeth.
"Okay," I mumble. His comment makes me feel more than uncomfortable but I ignore it.
My "office" is located in the back of the store. Mr. Peters promises me that it's the perfect spot for me even though no one knows where my office is unless he tells them.
And he claims that he does tell them. I know he's lying.
I sit down in my big comfy chair. My feet don't touch the floor of course. I take my heels off and sigh.
I hear a knock at my door. It's my friend Mikey. He's one of my nicer co-workers.
He smiles at me and places a medium coffee on my desk. I smile at him gratefully.
"Thank you, Mikey. You're my lifesaver."
"No problem. Do your feet touch the floor yet?"
I glare at him. He laughs and sits in one of the two chairs in front of my desk. "I don't know why I even bother."
"What do you mean?"
"Mr. Peters treats me like dirt," I pout.
"You need the job, remember? You're just barely paying for your apartment and you won't take any money from me so you need this job. That's why you bother."
"I want to do something more than work for a pervert who sells expensive car parts."
"So do I," Mikey says looking offended.
"Sorry," I murmur. "Don't let me keep you from your work."
He stands up and winks at me before leaving.
***
Even if the stars and moon collide...
The loud Demi Lovato music plays throughout my small apartment and I dance around in the kitchen. I'm making my world famous BLT.
"I never want you back into my life!" I sing. I'm not the best singer but I'm what they call decent.
I hear a loud banging on my door. I cut the music off and open the door. I see Mikey.
"Mikey!" I squeal.
"Hi," he says. "How are you?"
"Shut up," I say and pull him in. I turn the music back on but I turn it down.
He sits down on my couch. "What are you doing?"
"Making a BLT. Want one?"
"No, I'm good. I actually wanted to talk to you."
He sounds serious and it makes me nervous. "Ew, what's this about?"
"Why, ew?"
"You're usually not this serious," I tell him.
"Well, I was thinking. We're best friends right?"
"Uh, yeah sure," I say. I never thought of him as anything less.
"So, and we get along really well, right?"
I nod. Where's he going with this?
"Do you want to move in? I mean, into my apartment."
"Why would I want to do that?" I ask.
"I'm just trying to help, Imogen."
"Mikey.."
"You tell me every day how you're just barely paying your rent and if you moved in with me you wouldn't have to worry about rent. Think about it, Imogen. It makes sense," he says.
"This is crazy talk, Mikey."
"Alright, just think about it. Okay?"
"Alright."
Mikey smiles at me and rubs his stomach. "I think I'll take that BLT."
***
Tuesday, October 2
"Good Gandhi!"
I shoot up off the couch at the loud sound. I walk to where I heard the voice. It's coming from the bathroom.
"Mikey?" I ask tiredly. I knock on the closed bathroom door.
"Oh, uh, I'll be out in a moment," he says nervously.
"Are you okay?" I ask.
"Yeah, I just - my - I'll be out soon."
I don't even question him. Mikey's weird like that. He'll just do the weirdest things and at this point, it's normal for me.
Mikey comes out of the bathroom and he drives me to work. He doesn't explain what happened and I don't ask him to.
"Thanks, Mikey."
"Sure, thing."
***
"Ms. Johns, do you mind if I talk to you?" Mr. Peters questions.
"Yes," I say.
"There's a dinner tonight," he says. "And I need you and Mikey to attend."
"Why?" I question.
"Because I just said so," he snaps. "There's a high paying customer who is offering me a shit load of money for a piece of the company. He likes my policies."
"And you need me because...?" He'll need Mikey because he's good with numbers and things like that but me? I'm just a... person who is good at persuading.
"I need your amazing persuading skills to help seal the deal tonight." He turns to walk out of my office but he turns around. "And make sure you wear something tight and sexy. I won't hesitate to fire you if it's not up to my standards." He winks and leaves my office.
