“So, you won’t let anyone see you, will you?” I ask Wyatt for the tenth time. It’s Monday morning and I am freaking out about my new job. The two of us are walking down the bustling street towards my new office building.
He raises his brows with exasperation. “I told you ten times… no, but I don’t understand why anyone can’t see us. They all know you have guards.”
“It’s just weird you know, I don’t want to seem odd to my new colleagues.”
He rolls his eyes.
“And there are guards in the foyer of the building, so you don’t need to hang around, Wyatt.”
“Well, we sure aren’t leaving you here.”
“That’s ridiculous,” I scoff. “Go and do your thing for the day and I’ll text you half an hour before my lunch break. Then you can come back and take me to lunch.”
We arrive outside the tall building. We peer through the glass to see a metal detector and three armed guards.
“See.” I smile. “This place is like Fort Knox.”
One of the floors upstairs is the home of the American Embassy. I couldn’t have planned it any better myself.
Wyatt looks around and exhales heavily. “Fine. Call me half an hour before your lunch break and I’ll meet you back here.”
I bounce on the spot as I grab his big arm and squeeze it tight.
“Thank you.”
I take off through the large glass doors and hop into the lift, my nerves really beginning to rise.
The elevator is full, and people are all staring straight ahead. I clutch my handbag tightly, flinching when my phone beeps with a message. I scramble to read it.
It’s from Beth.
Good luck today, Lottie Preston xxx
I bite back my smile and reply.
I’m so nervous, I’m about to throw up.
See you tonight.
xoxo
The doors open on the twenty-fifth floor, and I tentatively walk out and look around. There are people and desks everywhere. This place is a hive of activity. Where do I go?
I see a girl sitting at a desk, and I walk over. “H-hello. I’m starting today, would you know where I should go?”
She looks up at me and fakes a smile. “Hey, sure. Back office on the farthest wall.” She gestures to the other end of the space. “Ask for Veronica.”
I grip my handbag tightly. “Okay, thank you.” I make my way to the office and stand by the door.
“Listen, if you continue to be lazy and not get through your work each day, I don’t have a position here for you. Do you understand me?” I hear a woman chastise.
“Yes, Veronica,” a man answers.
I swallow the lump in my throat and stand still. Shit, she sounds mean.
“Why weren’t these reports done on time?”
“I’ve been doing three people’s jobs, and I haven’t had time.”
“Then you make time,” she snaps. “Get back to work right now, and don’t make me call you in here again. I don’t have the time or the energy to follow you around doing your work for you, Marcus.””
“Yes, Veronica. It won’t happen again.” He turns and scurries past me, too rattled to even say hello.
The blood drains from my face.
“Yes?” she barks at me.
“Oh.” I pause and step into her office. “My name is Lottie Preston. I’m meant to be starting here today,” I whisper nervously.
She frowns. “Just a minute.” She dials a number on her office phone, looking me up and down as it rings.
I shrivel under her glare.
“Yes. I have a Lottie Preston here, says she’s starting today.” She listens for a moment. “Okay.”
I glance over at the door wondering if it’s too late to run.
She takes something out of her top drawer. “You’re in the mailroom, follow me.”
She stands and storms past me, and I swallow the lump in my throat. God, this woman is a rude pig. Not even an introduction? She’s short and stocky with a strawberry blonde bob. I follow her as she powers through the office.
Who was I kidding? This was a stupid idea.
“You’re on the tenth floor in the mailroom.” She passes me a security card. “This is your key to get around the building.”
I take it from her. “Thank you.”
We get into the elevator and she hits the button hard. “I’m your manager. My name is Veronica, obviously, and as you probably just heard, I don’t tolerate laziness.”
My eyes widen.
“You’ll be on time, you will work hard, and you won’t gossip with colleagues and waste my valuable time. Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes,” I murmur with wide eyes. “Of course.”
The doors open on the tenth floor and she storms out again. This floor is different. There are huge conference tables everywhere, and over in the back corner I can see five small desks. Only one woman and a man are sitting at them working on their computers.
“What are you doing, Paul?” Veronica snaps.
He spins on his chair, obviously not having heard us coming. “Hello, Veronica.” He smiles cheerily.
“This is Laurel,” she says to Paul, introducing me incorrectly.
“Lottie,” I whisper.
She frowns and looks me up and down again. “Lottie.” She rolls her eyes like I’m an inconvenience. “Lottie is starting in the mailroom today. Sarah, you can train her, please?”
The pretty girl smiles, and it’s the first genuine smile I have seen aimed my way since arriving here. “Hello.”
She has long dark hair and looks like a sexy penthouse pet with her huge boobs, silicone lips, and fake eyelashes. I feel so dreary in my sensible clothes.
“Hi,” I croak.
“Back to work,” Veronica says. “Laurel, if you need anything, come and see me in my office.”
I frown. “It’s Lottie.” But she doesn’t hear me-she’s already power walking back to the lifts.
“Fucking slut,” Paul groans once Veronica has disappeared.
My eyes widen.
“I swear to God, one of these days I’m going to stab that bitch in the eye with this letter opener.” He pretends to stab something repeatedly.
Sarah smiles warmly and stands from her seat. “This is your desk, Lottie.” She pulls out my chair. “Don’t worry about Veronica. She’s just a massive cunt.”
My eyes pop. “Oh.”
“Yeah, Cunty McCunt Face.” She sighs. “I keep telling Paul to fuck her so she’ll be in a better mood, but he won’t.”
“You fuck her,” Paul cries out. “That vagina would be fucking green, I tell you. Nobody in their right mind would fuck her. I’m Paul, by the way.” He smiles as he stands and shakes my hand. Paul is around thirty, at a guess, and he’s quite good looking with dark hair and height that towers over me.
I bite my bottom lip to stifle my huge smile. Nobody ever talks like this around me. It feels weird… and good.
“Hello, Paul.” I hunch my shoulders together. “I have no idea what I’m doing, by the way.”
“Neither do we,” Sarah says casually. “We all hate this job. It completely sucks. You should run while you can.”
I smile, unable to help it. “Then why do you work here?” I ask.
“Can’t be fucked to look for a new job.” Sarah sighs as she turns back to her computer. “That takes effort.”
“I’m travelling. I’m only working here to save up for my next trip,” Paul admits.
I smile and look around the office. “Makes sense.”
“What are you doing here?” Paul frowns. “Why would you want to work in the mailroom of this shit hole?”
I giggle at his language. “I was working in a nursery and wanted to come to London. This was the first job that I found.”
They both nod, completely buying the story.
“So, it’s just the three of us here then?” I ask.
“No, there are another two boys, but they are upstairs delivering photocopies at the moment. Or hiding in a storeroom somewhere,” Paul mutters under his breath.
“Come on, I’ll give you the tour,” Sarah says.
“Okay.” I follow her over to the large conference tables.
“So here is where we sort the mail every morning. We bag it into floor levels and then into departments. You and I deliver that every afternoon.”
“Right.”
She turns. “Don’t ever let the boys deliver it, that’s our job.”
“Okay.” I frown. “Why can’t they deliver it?”
“Because it’s the best fucking perving session ever. My God. There are some hot men upstairs. If we ever let the boys deliver it, they will never give the job back to us.”
I smirk. I like this girl. “Makes sense.”
“Do you have a boyfriend?” she asks over her shoulder.
“No.”
Her eyes light up. “Well, you’ve come to the right place to work. This place is hot dick city.”
I laugh out loud. Hot dick city? Who knew there was such a place?
“This room here is hell on Earth.” I look in and see seven large photocopiers all lined up in a row.
“Why?” I frown.
“Because we have to print out and bind the training manuals for level nine.”
“Is that bad?”
“It’s the worst. We do that on Wednesdays. We usually all end up fighting, and then we have to go to the pub after work to recover.”
I smile. Even that sounds fun to me.
“So, we do mail every day, making manuals on Wednesdays. Photocopying happens every day, and we have to answer delivery emails, too.”