office building leased by Drake’s sister for her company, Bananaville, and was smacked hard by the sheer volume. It sounded like she’d walked into a zoo where the animals had all escaped and were having shouting matches.
She draped her trench coat over her arm and approached the receptionist’s desk, a little dizzied by the red, fuchsia, and yellow stripes. She peered over the high counter to catch the receptionist’s eye.
The girl in her early twenties glanced up at her, then continued chattering on the cell phone glued to her ear. She focused on her computer screen and clicked here and there.
Venus stood there, listening to her chatter. Something about the mall and some cat named Lisa who was trying to be all that but who totally didn’t have “it,” whatever “it” was. Venus felt about a hundred years old.
The clicks started to fall into a pattern. Reminded her of…a game controller. Was the girl playing a game?
Venus grabbed the edge of the counter and leaned way forward to see the computer screen. Despite her height, she almost had to hop up and plant her ribcage on the high counter in order to catch a glimpse.
She moved too fast for the receptionist to hide her screen. She saw some space game before the screen went dark.
Rather than straightening, Venus leaned further over the counter until she was almost nose to nose with the girl. “Please get off the phone.”
The smoke-and-silver smeared eyelids blinked, and her mouth stopped in surprise.
“Darla?” The tinny voice sounded from the phone.
“Don’t make me repeat myself, Darla.” Venus speared her straight in the eyes, and fear pooled in the girl’s green gaze.
“Call ya back.” The girl closed the phone and shrank in her chair, still staring at Venus.
Venus backed off. No need to completely unglue the girl—she’d gotten her point across. The noises coming from the back rooms of the building had increased, if possible. “Tell Drake that Venus Chau is here to see him.” She discreetly pulled at her frilly silk blouse to straighten it from its trip over the counter. The lace at the collar and cuffs had been her only concession to Grandma’s admonition to be feminine. She’d needed this pantsuit to face Drake—she wasn’t about to appear in a skirt. She didn’t think she even had a skirt suit.
Darla picked up the phone and dialed. “Drake, uh …” She cupped the mouthpiece. “I’m so, so sorry, w-what was your name again?”
“Venus Chau.” She flexed a muscle in her jaw.
“Venus Chau is here to see you…Yes, sir.” She hung up. “He said to head back to his office. Did you, uh …” She bit her quivering lip. “Did you want me to escort you?” Her wide eyes pleaded, Please say no, please say no …
“What’s his office number?”
Darla gave a rather loud sigh of relief. “112.”
Venus skirted the receptionist’s desk and plunged into the madhouse behind.
Once she turned the corner, the noise reached deafening levels. It sounded like a few parakeets screeching at a dozen monkeys, who were screaming back. She headed down the long hallway, lined with open doorways.
“Excuse me, who are you?”
The peevish voice sounded behind her. She turned to see an Asian woman’s head popping out of a doorway.
She must be Drake’s sister. She had his wide, square jaw and small mouth, his prominent nose—larger than the average Asian button nose—and long eyes that slanted up at the corners like a paintbrush tip. Right now, the eyes were narrowed and the mouth turned down.
“I’m Venus Chau. Drake called me.” She approached with her hand held out.
The woman ignored it. “Drake’s girlfriends all know not to bother him at work.” The acid in her tone burned the air between them.
Venus bit her tongue and drew blood. She withdrew her hand and focused on drawing a thin breath through her pinched nostrils. “I’m here to discuss the position of CTO.”
The woman started, but recovered quickly and
She draped her trench coat over her arm and approached the receptionist’s desk, a little dizzied by the red, fuchsia, and yellow stripes. She peered over the high counter to catch the receptionist’s eye.
The girl in her early twenties glanced up at her, then continued chattering on the cell phone glued to her ear. She focused on her computer screen and clicked here and there.
Venus stood there, listening to her chatter. Something about the mall and some cat named Lisa who was trying to be all that but who totally didn’t have “it,” whatever “it” was. Venus felt about a hundred years old.
The clicks started to fall into a pattern. Reminded her of…a game controller. Was the girl playing a game?
Venus grabbed the edge of the counter and leaned way forward to see the computer screen. Despite her height, she almost had to hop up and plant her ribcage on the high counter in order to catch a glimpse.
She moved too fast for the receptionist to hide her screen. She saw some space game before the screen went dark.
Rather than straightening, Venus leaned further over the counter until she was almost nose to nose with the girl. “Please get off the phone.”
The smoke-and-silver smeared eyelids blinked, and her mouth stopped in surprise.
“Darla?” The tinny voice sounded from the phone.
“Don’t make me repeat myself, Darla.” Venus speared her straight in the eyes, and fear pooled in the girl’s green gaze.
“Call ya back.” The girl closed the phone and shrank in her chair, still staring at Venus.
Venus backed off. No need to completely unglue the girl—she’d gotten her point across. The noises coming from the back rooms of the building had increased, if possible. “Tell Drake that Venus Chau is here to see him.” She discreetly pulled at her frilly silk blouse to straighten it from its trip over the counter. The lace at the collar and cuffs had been her only concession to Grandma’s admonition to be feminine. She’d needed this pantsuit to face Drake—she wasn’t about to appear in a skirt. She didn’t think she even had a skirt suit.
Darla picked up the phone and dialed. “Drake, uh …” She cupped the mouthpiece. “I’m so, so sorry, w-what was your name again?”
“Venus Chau.” She flexed a muscle in her jaw.
“Venus Chau is here to see you…Yes, sir.” She hung up. “He said to head back to his office. Did you, uh …” She bit her quivering lip. “Did you want me to escort you?” Her wide eyes pleaded, Please say no, please say no …
“What’s his office number?”
Darla gave a rather loud sigh of relief. “112.”
Venus skirted the receptionist’s desk and plunged into the madhouse behind.
Once she turned the corner, the noise reached deafening levels. It sounded like a few parakeets screeching at a dozen monkeys, who were screaming back. She headed down the long hallway, lined with open doorways.
“Excuse me, who are you?”
The peevish voice sounded behind her. She turned to see an Asian woman’s head popping out of a doorway.
She must be Drake’s sister. She had his wide, square jaw and small mouth, his prominent nose—larger than the average Asian button nose—and long eyes that slanted up at the corners like a paintbrush tip. Right now, the eyes were narrowed and the mouth turned down.
“I’m Venus Chau. Drake called me.” She approached with her hand held out.
The woman ignored it. “Drake’s girlfriends all know not to bother him at work.” The acid in her tone burned the air between them.
Venus bit her tongue and drew blood. She withdrew her hand and focused on drawing a thin breath through her pinched nostrils. “I’m here to discuss the position of CTO.”
The woman started, but recovered quickly and
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