Page 4 of A Fae in Finance
Exactly the type of prejudiced bullshit I’d have called anyone else out for.
“Don’t we just need to teach them what’s normal for the industry?” I ventured, after some tense mutual silence.
Jeff snorted. “No. Just do what they want. It’s fine. Everyone who sees the presentation will know it’s because the client is a faerie, and faeries are crazy.”
This sounded like a logical fallacy. It also sounded like something he wouldn’t say in the office, where our few faerie and werewolf colleagues could hear him. The vampires would remain blissfully ignorant via the simple expedient of not coming into the office until after dark.
“Okay, but the leaves?” I prompted.
“Just google some free leaf graphics, I guess.” He sounded distracted. No doubt he was, already reading a different email.
“Okay,” I said. “Do you want to see it before I send it?”
“No, I don’t care. The whole thing is stupid.”
I rubbed my eyes. “Okay,” I said again. I felt a lump in my throat, frustration burning hot behind my eyes.
He hung up without another word.
I glanced around my living room, feeling itchy and stagnant. I desperately needed a walk but was afraid to leave the apartment, worried that as soon as I got out the door someone would call me about work.
Sighing, I opened the PowerPoint document titledFaerie Trade Goodsand stared at the front page again. The entire presentation touted the sedate colors of our bank, a sea of blues in RGB (0, 0, 255) and (0, 180, 255) and (70, 20, 230).
I thought about the best way to change the presentation. I could mock up a few slides and send them to the client, but if Jeff saw that email he’d be annoyed that I didn’t ask him to review, even though he’d just told me not to. I could try to find a style guide for our company (the style guide does not exist; this was just stalling). I could stuff my face with tofu noodles and then deal with another irritated lecture from Jeff when I didn’t get this done as quickly as he wanted.
With another sigh, I opened the Noun Project on my computer and searchedleaf. A bunch of black and white icons appeared. I glanced longingly at the sliver of afternoon sunlight bravely reflecting off the windows across the street while the results of my search loaded. Cartoon maple, clover, and ginkgo leaves filled my screen. I probably should’ve asked for slightly more guidance from the Princeling.
Doctor Kitten mewled and hopped back into my lap. He looked as annoyed as I felt, which was kind of unfair, because he didn’t have to make any PowerPoints andhisability to sell this stupid company likely wouldn’t impact faerie-human relations for the foreseeable future.
Oh, and I still had to pee, but I couldn’t get up because Doctor Kitten had settled in for a long scratching session, and also if I got up I would possibly be pinged on Teams.
I looped my arms awkwardly over Doctor Kitten, who was smugly coating my shirt in white cat hair, and started to type.
I shouldn’t have gone out with Thea and Jordan. I should have stayed in my musty apartment and worked. But Thea had texted me just as I felt the phantom oozing trickles of my own brain fluid down my neck, so I’d shut my laptop and agreed to meet them at the convenient restaurant beneath my apartment.
Thea, my first absolute best friend in the whole wide world, stood waiting in the entrance, wearing her summer uniform of jean shorts and a tank top. When she saw me, she strode across the almost steaming pavement and swept me into a hug. “Hey,” she whispered, squeezing me until I lifted onto my toes. I hugged her back; even just seeing her face improved my mood.
I felt someone barrel into me from behind and realized the arms of my other best friend, Jordan, had come around both of us. I sighed and sagged between them, a boneless noodle being supported by her two besties.
“Let’s eat, I’m starving,” Jordan said fervently into the back of my skull.
“Same,” Thea agreed. “I had meetings all day and had to skip lunch!”
Jordan let go of us, and then Thea and I parted. “You could’ve eaten if you’d texted the group chat less,” Jordan said, leading us into the restaurant. “No one cares about your character’s lists of attacks; this one shot is about a game show.”
I snorted.
“Jordan, I’m spending my entire Saturday playing Dungeons and Dragons with you,” Thea said. “And I don’t evenlikeDungeons and Dragons. So you will appreciate the effort I put into my character, even if all we do is role-playJeopardy!as orcs.”
The host, who’d heard the end of this little tirade, hid a smirk behind one hand.
“You’re coming Saturday, right, Miri?” Jordan asked as Thea requested a table for three.
The host led us through the dimly lit low room to a booth at the back, where the worn vinyl seats and exposed brick wall waited in muted reds. I sagged into the booth and leaned a shoulder against the wall for support.
“I… don’t know,” I said, while the other two slid in across from me. I tensed up at the twinned expression on their faces: This was an intervention. I was about to be intervened. Again.
“You need to take care of yourself,” Thea said. I tried to hide how piercing I found both her remark and her speckled hazel eyes by staring at the menu, where absolutely none of the words resolved themselves into anything recognizable. Since this was a burger joint, that was probably a function of my currently limited brain power and not a language barrier.
