Page 6 of Dear Pink

“Notsogross.” Libby bats her eyes at me. “I have beautiful feet.”

“Uh-huh. I’ve smelled them. You empty a room by taking off your stinky shoes.”

Libby waves her bare feet in my face. “At least someone wants to smell my feet. Your toes could use a little sucking. How long has it been, Hannah?”

“Since my toes have been sucked?”

“Life is too short to be celibate.”

“It’s not worth falling in love only to have your heart broken.”

“Well, it’s been long enough. And I don’t mean love. Date a perv who sniffs your underwear. Hell, who wears your underwear. You need to get laid.”

“We will not go there.”

“Go where? Your underwear drawer?” Libby smirks.

“Never mind. What about this art gallery?”

“Javier wants to show my work.”

“Will I have to loan him my feet?”

“Maybe.” She winks at me. “Would it be so bad?”

I shiver. “Yes.”

“Anyway, don’t mention the sexy time foot fetish to my parents.”

“Oh, I’m telling,” I say.

“You can’t tell them because I’m dying.”

“How long do you plan on using the death excuse to force me to do your dirty work?”

“As long as it takes.”

***

The Breville beeps, bringing me back to reality. As I grab a mug, an object hits me hard in the head. “Ouch.” I wonder if it’s Libby. “Watch out or you’ll be exorcised,” I yell into the kitchenette and stumble over a bright blue football at my feet. Someone laughs across the hall.

“Shit, you hit someone with the Nerf ball.”

“No one’s ever on this floor.”

“I heard yelling.”

Damn sales guys. They use the entire building as their playground. Abandoning the tea, I scurry to the elevator before they round the corner. I press the button for the basement. As the doors close, I fall into the wall in relief.

The respite is short-lived. The doors open and there stands Maude, all six feet of her. “I called IT, Hannah. What’s going on? They didn’t detect a virus.” The woman would intimidate anyone with her height, but her disappointing tone crushes you. I don’t have the strength to deal with her this morning.

“It’s worked out.” I walk over to my desk and turn on the power surge. The computers come to life. “Sorry, Maude.”

“Darling, we deserved a break,” June says in her typical Dolly Parton fashion. She walks over from her corner cubicle. She’s wearing leg warmers underneath her too-short for the office skirt. “Maude’s in a tizzy because she couldn’t check her stock reports.” She leans against my cubicle wall and fans her nails in front of her overflowing cleavage. “I redid my nails. Want me to paint yours?”

I contemplate the luxury of a manicure when Maude clears her throat. “Let’s get to work, ladies.”

I nod without a word and sit at my desk. Back toPolo Bears Go to Britain.

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