All The Way (The Sarah Kinsely Story - Book #1) by C.J. Berry Page A

first, move into my house. Check. The second, meet everyone at the office.
    My new boss had sent me an email early last week asking that I stop by the office when I got settled. Wanting to make a good impression I decided that I would stop by my first day in town. If that didn’t show commitment to the new job I wasn’t sure what else I could do.
    I unpacked my bike, rode down to the streetcar station, took the street car across the river and into the Pearl district. In total, it took me 15 minutes to get to work and coming over the river I caught my first glimpse of downtown. If this was my morning commute, I was going to be just fine.
    I made my way to the Pearl District with surprisingly little incident and spotted the building with large black letters that said, “Abraams and Snider” and pushed through the large glass doors.
    I was greeted by a receptionist whom I imagined worked nights as a burlesque dancer. She had two full sleeves of tattoos, large black gauge earrings, jet black hair done up in the style of a 50’s house wife and lipstick so red it would have made firemen jealous.
    “Hello, welcome to Abraams and Snider. May I help you?” She said.
    “Yes, please. My name is Sarah Kinsley and I am the new girl. I mean, I am going to be starting work here in a few days. I was asked to come stop by and say hello. Or actually, I am supposed to say I have a meeting with Stephanie.”
    Forming coherent sentences isn’t really my thing.
    The receptionist smiled.
    “Well Sarah, welcome to the team,” She handed me a stack of papers. “If you could fill these out and return them to me we can get you all taken care of.”
    I started towards the chairs in the lobby but heard the receptionist speak again.
    “Yes, of course. I will.” She said.
    I spun around.
    “What was that?” I said.
    “Sorry?” She said.
    “I didn’t catch what you just said. I am sorry, that was rude of me.”
    The receptionist stared at me.
    I stared back.
    My powers of awkwardness had already begun to take hold of her and would soon be consuming this entire building. What little hope I had of not being that girl again slipped away into oblivion when she turned her head and pointed to the bluetooth headset hidden in her ear.
    “I was just talking to Stephanie. She said to send you up once you complete the paperwork.” The receptionist said.
    “Ok, thank you.” I said, mortified that I hadn’t even made it past the gatekeeper and I had already committed an act worthy of watercooler fodder.
    Just another day in the life.
     
    After filling out my emergency contact information for the umpteenth time and double checking that my new address was correct, I returned the packet of paper work to the receptionist and was allowed entrance to the inner building.
    Abraams and Snider was a crazy, inventive and competitive digital marketing firm that had it’s roots firmly planted in the Portland soil, both literally and culturally. The walls were adorned with local art, the coffee stations were stocked with local brews and the corner offices has faux polar bear skin rugs. It was all very trendy and I suppose inspiring.
    After making a few lefts when I should have gone right I found the office of my new boss. The plaque on her office door said, “Make Art Or Die” and showed a rather graphic scene involving nudity, a chicken head and some blob I couldn’t make out all arranged in a sort of collage. I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to be intimidated or inspired. I felt both.
    I knocked on the door.
    “Come in.” The voice said on the other side.
    I opened the door and was surprised to find a woman lying on the floor reading a magazine. Her shoes were missing, her desk was a mess and she wasn’t alone. A man who looked to be in his early fifties was sitting in a chair perpendicular to her. He was reading a magazine too. They appeared to have been in conversation, but I hadn’t heard them when I was standing outside the door.
    They both