to have to move the desk.
âAnd not admin. A junior designer, for real.â
âAmazing.â She clicked save twice, then finally turned. She could feel the necklace shift. âWhen do we get it?â
Hamid raised his left elbow above his head, pushing it down with his right hand to stretch his triceps. âHer. Today. Now.â
âToday? I donât have time for a welcome lunch. Ursula shouldâve warned us.â
âUrsulaâs off-site today.â He shook his arms out. âRemember?â
âNo. So? This person is here?â
âSitting in HR, waiting for her tour.â
âAnd youâre gonna?â
âThe hell I am. Hear about the marketing feedback on the new feature template? Looks like itâs been mauled by sharks.â Hamid bug-eyed her. He was older than she was, but lived with his parents, played indoor soccer, drove an ugly expensive car. He worked seventy hours a week, on salary.
âHey, they donât like my column design, either.â
âRaeanne, sharks. The branding divisionâll have my ass.â
âFine,â said Rae, the way she would give up and let Marley and Jake have cookies. She stood and tugged her skirt down. The waistband was high and thick, digging in. âYou gonna introduce me?â
Hamid was already three steps towards his cube. âI didnât see her, HR just called. Look for the scared one.â
Rae thought about yelling, âWeâre all scared, Hamid,â but didnât.
The girl wore a white eyelet blouse with ruffled cap sleeves, her left bra-strap visible. Pink. She nodded as Rae approached. The nod turned her messy chignon into a ponytail. Rae stuck out her hand and said, âJunior design?â
She got a beam in response. âHello, hi. Iâm Andrea Goss. Andy. Iâm so glad to meet you, glad to be getting started here. Hi.â At her feet a blue rain jacket, a Burberry lunch sack, a black leather shoulder bag the size of a Labrador retriever.
âIâm one of the senior designers, Raeanne.â Andy had scooped everything from the floor and arranged it in her arms before Rae added, âRae.â
They saw the coffee room, the ladies room, the copier and the fax machine. (âNo one will fax you. Itâs two thousand and eleven. â) The big boardroom, the little boardroom, the dieffenbachia that hadnât died. Then the design room â four bus-shelter-sized file cabinets, twenty desks, a hibiscus with huge powdery red stamens.
âAnd this is my desk.â Rae looked at her cosmos screensaver, her browning apple. Her pictures of her kids were in her purse; anyone could have sat at this desk. This desk was all she wanted.
âWhere do I sit?â
Rae only knew all cubes on the window row were occupied: hers, Hamidâs, Amelia who had bone cancer, weird silent Mallick, Andrew who sometimes whistled. There were empty cubes in the dark inner rows.
Rae fidgeted. Her phone rang, but she couldnât think how to answer politely. Someone was walking past, and she turned, hopeful. He was tall, from Tech â she couldnât remember his first name. âLuddock!â
âWhat can I do for you, Raeanne?â The Tech guys always knew your name, and probably everything about you, too.
âHave you set up a Mac for a new designer named Andrea . . . um . . .â
âGoss!â
âOf course.â Luddock straightened, an insulted bird. âSomething not working?â
âNo, no, just . . . where is it?â
Luddock led them to an empty cube in the midst of empty cubes. âHere ya go!â
Rae had remembered that his first name was Arthur, but it seemed awkward to call him that now. âThanks, Luddock.â
Andy was looking at the fire regulations pinned to her baffle. âItâs awfully far from yours. For, like, asking questions.â
Rae was about to say Ursula would come back and answer
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