Page 4 of Love Potions and Paperwork

I pushed my way through the revolving doors into the impressive lobby of the MQ—Monster Quarterly—tower. It was built only a few years ago, the publishing giant moving their previously interspersed offices under one incredibly fancy roof. My office...Well—myshareddesk—was on the 42ndfloor. Which housed the entirety of the upper echelon of fashion journalism. At least that’s whatthey told me, I hardly ever saw more than the copy room, my desk, and Maeve’s impeccably organised office.

Around me, impossibly stylish monsters in tailored suits and dresses worthy of the red carpet darted between the doors and elevators, headed for their many offices. Aside from Siren, MQ Tower housed about fifteen other publications. Though few had the prestige of the number one beauty and fashion magazine in the country.

I passed by Paul—the horned security guy—with a wave. Careful to keep a tight grip on the tray of coffees clutched to my chest with my other hand.

I’d been working for Maeve Randall for 157 days. That was 123 days longer than her previous assistant. And 115 more than the one before them. It wasn’t hard to put my finger on what exactly drove employees to drop like flies around the woman. Her coffee was never hot enough, calls never answered fast enough, and dry cleaning needed to be picked up on the other side of the river three times a week... To most, it would’ve been a nightmare. Hell, itwasa bit of a nightmare. But Miss Randall wasn’t all that bad, not really.

Sometimes—very rarely—she’d smile in a way that made me think there was more to her than screaming at temps and belittling beauty editors. As close as a smile as she ever got to at least— more of a twitch of her facial muscles that tilted her full lips upward.

But all of that would be out the window if I screwed up her coffee orderagain.

“Eugine!” called Diane, poking their hand out of the elevator as they saw me approach.

I picked up speed, weaving between the other monsters as quickly as I could without over-balancing my precious cargo.

“Good morning, Diane! You’re in early.”

The sharp-eyed faun was Miss Randall’s secretary—managing all her day-to-day appointments, correspondence and, most excitingly for Diane, taking notes during meetings. It meant they knew everything abouteveryonein the business.

A veritable goldmine of information.

“The bitch has a meeting at eight a.m. sharp and if I’m not there twenty minutes early she’snotgoing to be happy.” They pressed the button for our floor as I shouldered into the elevator, tapping a stilettoed foot on the carpet.

I pressed my thin lips together, antenna twitching.

Miss Randall wasn’t the nicest of people, but it sort of bothered me that my colleagues talked poorly about her.

“Think it’ll be hot enough this time?” Diane asked ruefully.

I sighed. “158thtime’s the charm?”

They rolled their eyes. “That woman is a fucking menace. I don’t know how you cope with it, Eugine.”

I shrugged a suit-jacket-clad shoulder. “She’s not all bad.”

“Well, if you find something good let me know.” They hiked their bag further up their shoulder as the glossy doors parted, stepping out onto the smooth floor with the click of heels on marble.

I floated out after them, pausing briefly as they opened a glass door for us to enter. Maline, the sweet-faced fae receptionist, wiggled her fingers in a wave as we passed.

“Morning Eugine! Diane!”

“Morning Mel,” called Diane over their shoulder, their copper hair brushing against their cheek. “How’s Bobby?”

Meline rolled her large blue eyes. “Same as ever.”

“That’s too bad,” replied Diane, though it sounded like they thought it was anything but.

I passed by our desks, which sat across from each otherin front of the impressive double doors leading into Miss Randall’s office.

Diane tossed their bag into the bottom drawer of their desk before settling into the rolling chair they would spend the bulk of the next 8 hours in. Their computer screen glowed to life as I collected a stack of magazines that’d been left on my desk with my free hand. Diane leaned over and opened the door to Miss Randall’s office with one hand, holding it for me until I was able to use my hip to prop it open enough to squeeze inside.

I set the coffee and the magazines on the wooden top of the desk, spreading them out so she’d be able to see all the covers at a glance. It looked like the files I’d prepped last night hadn’t been reviewed yet, still resting in perfectly straight piles organised from most to least urgent, left to right. I pulled out the little hand vac from its place hidden in the closet beside her bathroom. The machine hummed to life with the touch of a button as I quickly vacuumed over her chair, seeking out any stray fur that may have been left behind the day before

Maevehateddust and hair. And given she herself shed, it was always worth taking the time to tidy a bit before she arrived. It’d saved the cleaning staff a few dressing-downs over the last few months.

I remembered with a shudder when she had come into her office to find a ring from a coffee cup on her desk. It was a very,very, bad day.

Really, I was a glorified babysitter. Though my official title was “Executive Assistant”, most of my day was spent trying to anticipate problems and solving them before they could happen.Problemsthat almost always resulted in a lot of yelling and someone losing their job.

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