The Big Dream by Rebecca Rosenblum

to have to move the desk.
    â€œAnd not admin. A junior designer, for real.”
    â€œAmazing.” She clicked save twice, then finally turned. She could feel the necklace shift. “When do we get it?”
    Hamid raised his left elbow above his head, pushing it down with his right hand to stretch his triceps. “Her. Today. Now.”
    â€œToday? I don’t have time for a welcome lunch. Ursula should’ve warned us.”
    â€œUrsula’s off-site today.” He shook his arms out. “Remember?”

    â€œNo. So? This person is here?”
    â€œSitting in HR, waiting for her tour.”
    â€œAnd you’re gonna?”
    â€œThe hell I am. Hear about the marketing feedback on the new feature template? Looks like it’s been mauled by sharks.” 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.
    â€œHey, they don’t like my column design, either.”
    â€œRaeanne, sharks. The branding division’ll have my ass.”
    â€œFine,” 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. “You gonna introduce me?”
    Hamid was already three steps towards his cube. “I didn’t see her, HR just called. Look for the scared one.”
    Rae thought about yelling, “We’re all scared, Hamid,” but didn’t.

    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, “Junior design?”
    She got a beam in response. “Hello, hi. I’m Andrea Goss. Andy. I’m so glad to meet you, glad to be getting started here. Hi.” At her feet a blue rain jacket, a Burberry lunch sack, a black leather shoulder bag the size of a Labrador retriever.
    â€œI’m one of the senior designers, Raeanne.” Andy had scooped everything from the floor and arranged it in her arms before Rae added, “Rae.”

    They saw the coffee room, the ladies room, the copier and the fax machine. (“No one will fax you. It’s two thousand and eleven. ”) The big boardroom, the little boardroom, the dieffenbachia that hadn’t died. Then the design room – four bus-shelter-sized file cabinets, twenty desks, a hibiscus with huge powdery red stamens.
    â€œAnd this is my desk.” 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.
    â€œWhere do I sit?”
    Rae only knew all cubes on the window row were occupied: hers, Hamid’s, 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 couldn’t think how to answer politely. Someone was walking past, and she turned, hopeful. He was tall, from Tech – she couldn’t remember his first name. “Luddock!”
    â€œWhat can I do for you, Raeanne?” The Tech guys always knew your name, and probably everything about you, too.
    â€œHave you set up a Mac for a new designer named Andrea . . . um . . .”
    â€œGoss!”
    â€œOf course.” Luddock straightened, an insulted bird. “Something not working?”
    â€œNo, no, just . . . where is it?”
    Luddock led them to an empty cube in the midst of empty cubes. “Here ya go!”
    Rae had remembered that his first name was Arthur, but it seemed awkward to call him that now. “Thanks, Luddock.”
    Andy was looking at the fire regulations pinned to her baffle. “It’s awfully far from yours. For, like, asking questions.”
    Rae was about to say Ursula would come back and answer