Page 1 of Minding the Minotaur
CHAPTER 1
SAMMY
The pager on my belt lets out a volley of loud beeps. I glance down to see the words HEAD OFFICE scroll across the display.
This can only mean one thing. I’m being summoned by the CEO of DeVines.
From across the table, Clem cocks an eyebrow. “Looks like Winters has a bone to pick. Better you than me,” she says, before taking a slurp of her caramel milkshake. I love Clem, we’ve been besties for five years, since we started working at DeVines on the same day, but she can be blunt at times.
“Maybe I’m getting a promotion.” I manage a weak smile as I stand up.
“Yeah, right. I’ll be ready to dry your tears when she’s whipped your ass.”
“Gee, thanks.”
I turn off my pager. By now, all ears in the canteen have heard it, and all eyes are following my every movement. I tossmy blonde ponytail, pick up my tray and stalk over to the lunch counter.
Brenda, the chef, grabs it with a grunt. “Hope you survive.”
I cast her a dark look.
Three minutes later, I’ve taken the elevator to the top floor and am standing in the reception area outside Marsha Winters’ office. The elegantly carved doors are closed, but I can hear Marsha’s strident voice berating some poor employee.
My gut clenches, and a bead of sweat runs down my neck.
To take my mind off the barrage, I gaze out the window at the rooftops of Sparkle City. The spires and turrets do indeed sparkle in the mega beams cast by a million lights—the nearest thing we’ll ever get to sunshine.
I remind myself how lucky I am to live here.
Sparkle City is built under a huge dome, an oasis in the middle of a stark, barren world. It’s the most magnificent of seven domed cities that are spread over the desolate, poisoned landscape that was once Earth. My mom and dad were fortunate enough to win the ballot to move here from Ruby Town, an older and far less glitzy dome, and start a brand-new life of prosperity. Rumor has it that Sparkle was erected above the ruins of a human city that was huge and prosperous, but no-one is allowed to explore it, because the air is so shitty it will kill you in minutes. Besides, anyone who tries to find out about the past risks losing their permit to live in Sparkle.
Obviously, you’d have to be mad to do either of those things. And if you manage to secure work in an elite store like DeVines, you are doubly blessed. My dad, Hank Buggins, scored a job here in the small goods department soon after my parents arrived in Sparkle City, and my mom, Stella, ran the cosmetics counter. DeVines took me on because of the Buggins work ethic, but frankly, I only just scraped through the interview, and landed a job in store security. I would haveloved to work on a counter selling products, but I’m not pretty enough. And way too curvy.
I remember Marsha Winters in my interview, sneering, “You certainly haven’t inherited your mom’s figure, have you? Or her looks.”
It’s true, Mom is petite and dark-eyed, while I take after my dad’s side of the family. I swear, if I even look at a donut, I put on weight. There’s no hiding my ass in the DeVines uniform, or my tits, which have this embarrassing habit of bursting buttons off my tunic. And when that happens, my bright blue eyes (thanks again, Dad) get even rounder than they normally are, and my fair skin flushes beet red as I try to tuck my overflowing E-cups away and achieve some semblance of respectability.
Yeah, it’s a drag.
The only thing I like from the Buggins’ side is my bright blonde hair, which reaches right down to my waist when I let it loose.
“It’s like a river of golden silk,” Mom used to say when I was a kid.
That always made me feel special. Now, I stroke the end of my ponytail nervously, trying to reassure myself that all is well. That Iamspecial. That DeVines need me, and that I’ve done absolutely nothing to bring the wrath of Marsha Winters down on my head.
I jump as the doors fly open and a staff member scuttles out, sobbing quietly. They disappear into the elevator, but not before their red-rimmed eyes have met mine in a moment of camaraderie. It’s a look that says, “You’re next.”
My heart judders and I fold my arms over my tits to stop them bobbing up and down with my ragged breathing. I can’t afford to look scared. Marsha Winters is a bully, and bullies love it when you’re scared.
I firm my lips as she appears at the doorway, staring at meover her black and gold spectacles before beckoning me in with a long red fingernail.
“Sit,” Marsha orders.
I do, sandwiching my hands between my thighs and squeezing hard to stop them from trembling. I feel my head spinning under Marsha’s steely gaze.
When she finally speaks, her tone is syrupy sweet. “About the girl you apprehended yesterday, shoplifting…”
I breathe a sigh of relief—I must be getting a pat on the back after all. I handled that incident so darn well. Clem will have to eat her words.
