Chapter four
1146 Words
“Heyyyyyyyy,” a light, shrill voice came through the speaker at full volume, like she was yelling.
“I'm at work,” I cautioned her lightly. “And you are on speaker mode,”
“I don't care. How are you really?”
I smirked. Typical Ivy.
“I'm fine. Heard you bought all my paintings. What would you do with them? You've got zero tolerance for arts,”
“I didn't buy anything. Someone beat me to it,”
I raised an eyebrow. “Huh?”
“It was sold out just minutes before I called. Seems like you've gained new fans,”
“You sure it's not Yvonne?”
“Yes, I'm sure. It's a good thing, isn't it?”
“Hmmm,” I trailed off, racking my brains. Could it be Karl? Nah, I killed that thought.
“How was your vacation?” I continued, changing the topic.
“Pretty much interesting until you.” Then her voice rose two inches. “I will kill that MF,”
“He's not worth it Ivy, just let it go,” I tried to calm her down, even though deep down I wanted something to happen to him.
“Too late. Yvonne already sent a basket of gorilla poop to his doorstep,”
“What?” I squealed just before I burst out laughing. “Is that even a thing?”
“Yeah, it is,” Ivy responded in an amused tone.
“Well, I've got to call her and thank her for it,”
“You don't need to. She's coming over to your house for a couple of days.”
“My house is empty and a mess,” I said, embarrassed and surprised at the same time.
“When was the last time you both had s*x?”
I widened my eyes and tried to increase the speaker volume on my phone. She was too loud.
“Ivy, you are on speaker??” I tried to remind her. She snorted at the end of the line.
“We or your coworkers are not kids. Now answer me,”
“Yesterday,”
“He broke up after that? More reasons to kill him. Condom or raw?”
I palmed my face with my free hand.
“Ivvvyyyyyy??”
“Just chill,”
“It was raw. But I'm on a hundred per cent birth control,”
“Did you take it?”
I rolled my eyes. “Yes,”
“Good, wouldn't want to end up with more casualties shall we?”
“You are a lunatic,” I said seriously, and she laughed for the first time in our conversation.
“I've got to go now, my phone will go off any minute. I'll call you in the evening okay? Love you?”
“yeah…okay. I love you too. Bye.”
The phone clicked, and I still stared at my phone with a small smile. My mind began to wander about who bought my paintings. If it was who I thought it was, then it explains why everyone was overly nice to me.
It was almost two o'clock. I needed to take charge of my life and bury myself in my work.
Then, Elsie's laugh floated in the air, reminding me again…that I had no privacy.
She waltzed into the common area in six-inch heels, clutching a cup of hot chocolate.
An overzealous junior artist (Minions as I would call them) took the cup from her hands, while another twin set of junior artists continuously showered compliments about her ‘clean aesthetics’. Gross.
Her hair was always perfectly ironed. Didn't move an inch. Her blouse was perfectly tucked in, leaving no creases. She was the nineties version of Gen Z, yet in my book, her heart and soul were an endless shade of black, like my canvas at home.
“Bree,” she sang, dragging out the ‘e’ in my name like it offended her. Then she scrutinised me fully. “You look… bold today.”
Which was the code for: You look wrecked.
Not that I didn't. I was dressed in an overworn brown jacket with a below-the-knee length yellow flowery dress, and long black leather boots. Plus my messy bun, huge glasses and red lipstick? I was every male fashion designer's wet dream.
“I hear ‘dishevelled’ is the trend of the summer,” I mumbled to myself, not looking up.
She released a fake laugh and leaned on my desk like she paid rent there. “So. About yesterday. I hope you’re not taking things personally. You know how clients are. They want glamorous pieces, not disturbing ones.”
I finally looked up. I resisted the urge to yank her perfectly stranded hairs off her scalp. But I could do nothing. Over the years, I’d learned how things worked in this studio— there was a clear hierarchy. The boss often valued whoever brought in more clients and more money.
No matter how much I reported what was done to me, I was ignored. As a result, everyone used me as a doormat or a reference to failure….even the juniors. And I couldn’t quit because it had taken me ages to land this job, so I was determined to make it work. But lately, I was close to burning out.
I was right at the bottom rung.
“Back to work, Elsie!!” a familiar booming voice roared from the doorway. Both Elsie and I turned towards the door, petrified. It was my boss, a very large man blocking the entrance. He didn’t look very pleased.
“I was just giving her a pep talk, sir,” Elsie replied quickly, managing a sly smirk, though her eyes betrayed her. I was shocked. He never spoke to her that way…even in front of the others. She was his favourite.
“Save your pep talk for your work.” He bellowed again, coming into the room in huge strides. “I'll let yesterday's events slide. one last time.” He warned harshly, looking at everyone's faces in the room one after the other. It was a funny sight to me, as his face was almost beet red. “But hear me well, Ms. Adams is not to be bothered by any of you. If I hear otherwise, you’re out of my company!”
With that, Elsie slunk away from my desk.
I watched her click away like a human robot on heels, leaving behind a thick cloud of heavy perfume. I involuntarily scrunched my nose in disgust.
Whatever.
For the first time since I’d been hired, the boss shot me a thumbs-up before walking away, leaving all of us in the room in stunned silence. It felt like the natural order of things had just been turned upside down.
Which left me wondering aloud.
Who was Karl?
- Writer
