He was not at
his desk. This was an outrage. An outrage!
Corporate
Whore slammed her office door. She
wanted to break something. Where was
he? Could he have used the weekend to
kick the Bonus? Impossible. She glared at the bare walls. She needed some artwork in here. Something that would shatter into thousands
of satisfying pieces.
She dialed
Donald Jackson’s home number again. It
rang and rang and rang. She slammed the
phone back in the cradle. That felt
good. Perhaps she’d call him again in a
minute or so to give her an excuse to repeat the exercise. She picked up the phone and hammered it
against the desk a few times, to hell with the pretense, and then returned it
to the cradle in the same cathartic method as before.
She took a
deep breath, checked her hair in a pocket mirror, and then pressed the special
button on her phone. The one that
blinked with powerful pink light.
The door at
the back of the office whispered open casting a rosy glow into the room. Corporate Whore did not bother to look
back. She said, “Can you track him
down?”
“Of course,”
Pink Slip said.
“Do it.”
“Am I
bringing him back?”
Corporate
Whore hesitated for a moment. She bit
her lip and then said, “Yes.”
“All of
him?”
This
brought a hint of a smile to Corporate Whore’s lips, and diamonds twinkled in
her eyes. Then the smile slipped from
her face and the light ceased its iris dance.
Corporate Whore said nothing for a long while. Then, ever so slightly, she nodded.
Seconds
later she turned to make sure her affirmation was understood.
Pink Slip
was already gone.
