Page 3 of A Fae in Finance
We stared at each other through the cameras, his long face earnest and his green eyes somber.
I cleared my throat. “So, ah, if I can’t do that, what would work?”
Silence.
“More green,” the Princeling said, after a long, considering pause.
“And more leaves,” the Gray Knight chimed in helpfully.
The Crone, the Red Knight, and the Blue Knight—the others in the retinue—did not speak but nodded in their respective frames.
“Miri can add more leaves,” Jeff said, which seemed unfair to me because our graphic design and software budget was approximately seven dollars and a pack of washable markers. No one was giving me funds for a glue stick, let alone for digital art packs.
“Yeah, totally,” I said aloud.
“We shall see,” the Princeling said. “When will you provide us with this new document?”
“Soon,” I said.
“Will you provide a span of moon or sun?” the Princeling requested.Do not agree to a deadline.
I waited for Jeff to speak.
He didn’t.
My air conditioner huffed indignantly.
“Perhaps within the arc of this day,” the Princeling prompted.
“Uh, we’ll do our best to get it done soon,” I said.Do not commit to a deadline.
“Very well,” he said, and in one moment his entire retinue had signed off.
“Jeff?” I asked, hoping to talk about the art packs. Silence.
With a sigh, I exited the meeting.
I really had to pee, but the second I stood up, Jeff pinged me on Teams. I answered right away.
“You need something,” he said accusatorily as soon as the call connected.
I debated sayingYou called me, but that wouldn’t be productive.
“How do I add more leaves to the presentation? Do we have access to leaf art somewhere?”
“How the absolute fucknuts am I supposed to know?” he snapped.
“Uh.” I didn’t have my camera on, so Jeff couldn’t see how my eyes were wide with exhaustion and stress. “I don’t know. You agreed to it, so I thought you might have an idea.”
“No, I just don’t want to deal with their moronic bullshit anymore, Miri. They’re thestupidestpeople I’ve ever dealt with, and that’s saying something.”
“I don’t think they’re stupid,” I said, hunching my shoulders and staring at the computer screen.The Princeling doesn’t need a human girl who can’t throw a punch to defend himwent the voice in my head.
Jeff huffed. “Okay,Glinda the Good Witch.” The impassive circle bearing his initials stared back at me.
I flinched at the attempted insult but didn’t reply.
The voice in my head, which is of the dual opinions that violence solves everything and that I am bad at violence, growled. But the voice in my head had also never felt so defensive of a client, supernatural or otherwise. Ugh—truthfully, I’d never eventhoughtabout anyone so much outside of work before. I tried to tell myself something magical was at play, that I was falling under some faerie spell—
