I can always do something else to make money.
She stared at herself in the bathroom mirror, noting the ever-present pale skin, the freckles that she’d always felt certain were unattractive, and the frizzy hair that never quite seemed to stay styled.
There was nothing wrong with her per se, but she always had felt something was just slightly off compared to everyone else.
And coming to Biometrix Pharma proved that she was right in having such doubts.
She quite clearly didn’t belong here. Her skirt and blouse combo that she’d purchased a week ago at JC Penny was low rent and tacky compared to the really nice outfit that Emma Marks had on.
Ivy’s makeup wasn’t perfect, her clothes weren’t perfect.
And it was so obvious that Cullen Sharpe demanded perfection in everyone who worked at his company.
Ivy was in the wrong place. She should right now be squirrelled away in some quaint little bookstore in the suburbs, ringing up customers at the register or stocking the shelves. A simple job where she could blend in like she always had, be comfortably in the background, and not have to deal with people like Cullen Sharpe.
“Pull yourself together, Ivy,” she whispered. She took a deep, deep breath.
I’ve never quit anything in my life and I’m not going to start today. I’m not going to let snooty uptight people scare me.
She felt her spine stiffen and her chin rose as she made the decision to stick out the rest of the day at the very least.
I’ll bring him his stupid coffee. How difficult is it to hand someone a cup of coffee anyway?
She had to laugh at how ridiculous she was being. Letting the atmosphere of the place get to her—she didn’t have to drink the Kool-Aid just because everyone else around here had done so.
Leaving the bathroom, she felt lighter somehow. She had a small smile playing on her lips.
They’d finally been moved to the wing of the building where they would be working for the remainder of the project—or until they were fired, which Emma continued to hint might happen at any time.
Ivy was sitting at her own tiny cubicle, which strangely gave her a surge of pride.
It felt like a real office job.
She’d only worked at the local supermarket down the street from her house as a teenager, and then in college she’d done some tutoring and worked again at a supermarket for a short time.
That was the full extent of her job experience, so this was a new environment, and she was settling in a little bit to the idea that perhaps she could hack it after all.
She was already doing the data entry, her fingers flying expertly over the keyboard as she read the hardcopies that needed to be input into the system.
From the groans and mutterings coming from the surrounding cubicles, Ivy had the distinct impression that not everyone was finding the actual work to be as easy as she.
Suddenly, her desk phone rang, insistent and loud in the relative silence of the cubicle farm.
Ivy wasn’t sure what to do. Whoever was calling her phone, it must’ve been a wrong number. She was a temp. There was no good reason for anyone to want to talk to her on the company phone.
But then she thought perhaps her manager was calling, so she answered it hesitantly. “Ummm…hello?”
“Ivy Spellman,” the deep voice said. It was a statement of fact.
“Yes, this is she,” Ivy replied. “And who am I speaking with?”
“Cullen Sharpe,” he replied. “I’m ready for my coffee now.”
Her mind froze completely for a few seconds, but then she finally regained her senses. “Okay,” she said. “Where do I bring it to—“
But he’d already hung up and she was left speaking to no one.
She stood up in a panic, knowing she needed to find the manager, Emma, to help her. Looking around the rows of cubes, she finally saw the tall blond in the far corner of the room.
“Emma!” she cried out, waving her arms over her head.
Emma Marks approached, her shark eyes glittering with impersonal distaste as she got closer. “What’s the problem?”
“Cullen Sharpe just called to tell me he wants his coffee brought to him immediately.”
The blond woman sneered. “How thoughtful of him to phone you,” she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm.
“I don’t know what to do.”
“Of course you don’t,” Emma said, and she began walking out of the cube farm. She beckoned Ivy to follow and continued walking without slowing down.
Ivy scurried after her.