“Morning, child,” she says with a smile.
“Thank you for this,” I say as I gesture to my morning breakfast.
“No need to thank me. Now go and knock ‘em dead.”
“Will do.” I chuckle as I make my way from the kitchen, but then I hear Gran say, “And we’ll be talking about last night when you get back home later.”
Bugger.
* * *
I arrive at the office and it’s just gone half past eight. The meeting is at nine, and I see Marcie is already in her office. Our offices are next door to one another, and the all-glass walls give no privacy, so everyone can see everything.
I tap on the glass and her head shoots up. I move to her doorway and give her a smile. “You okay over there?” I ask her.
“I’m flapping.”
“And why are you flapping?” I say as I watch her grabbing different sheets of paper from her desk.
“I don’t know.”
“Right. Well, when you do know, be sure to tell me so I can let you know how ridiculous you’re being,” I tease.
“Bugger off,” she says, and I laugh.
“I’ll make sure to grab you a decaf coffee on my way to the project room. I don’t think you need to be buzzing any more than you already are.”
“Sorry,” she says as she throws her hands in the air. “I guess I’m just nervous. What if the new guy doesn’t like what we’ve done?”
“Relax, Marcie. We’ve smashed it, and you know it,” I tell her, fully confident that we are going to nail this. “And you look gorgeous, by the way.”
“Oh stop it,” she says, but she smiles at the same time. Marcie has always been pretty, with her curly black hair that hangs just below her shoulders, and her light brown eyes that just make you want to tell her everything. She has a way with people, and I instantly knew that we would be lifelong friends the moment I first spoke to her. Her nature is easy going, discounting today of course, but she has reason to be this frantic, because she’s on the brink of being promoted, much like me, except I’m hiding my worries better than her right now. She’s wearing a black pant suit with a baby blue blouse, and she’s rocking some killer heels. I wouldn’t be able to walk in those all day, but then I spot the other pair of shoes by her desk with a much smaller heel, and I wish I’d thought to do the same thing, because appearance can be everything in the world we work in. If you are dressed to kill, it usually gives you a better first impression to the judgy people of the ad game. And judge they do.
“I’ll meet you in there,” I say as I turn to make my way to the meeting room.
“Be there in a mo,” she calls out to my retreating back.
I stop by the coffee station before I enter, grabbing Marcie that decaf I told her I’d get. I don’t pour myself a cup because I’m still holding the travel mug my gran made for me.
I enter the meeting room and see that I am the first one here. I decide to sit on one of the chairs on the other side of the room, positioned at the middle of the conference table, and I place the coffees and my muffin down as I sit.
Seeing as I’m the only one here, I open up my bag with the muffin in and take a bite. Gran loves to bake, and it’s also the reason I need to go to the gym, but it’s totally worth it.
I’m halfway through eating when the door opens, and I quickly chew my mouthful and lift my coffee to take a sip. The door stops halfway, and I quickly brush the front of my shirt for any crumbs. Should have just eaten in my bloody office. Whoever is on the other side resumes opening it as I grab the bag off the table and shove it under my seat, but I needn’t have bothered when I see it’s just Marcie, followed by a couple of the others who have been working on the project with us.
“Bloody hell, Marcie,” I scold as I grab my bag and open it back up to finish the rest.
“What?” she says, looking more confident than she did in her office—game face is on.
“I thought you were the possible client coming in as I was shovelling my breakfast in my mouth.”
“Oooo, breakfast… is that your gran’s baking?” she asks, and I roll my eyes and pass her the remainder.
“Have at it,” I say, and she grabs the bag and scoffs it in no time at all.
“God, your gran really should have opened up a bakery or something,” she says around the last mouthful of muffin.
“Yeah, I told her that years ago, but she always said that she just baked for the love of doing it and not to turn it into something she hated day in and day out.”