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Wren
This woman thought I was dumb.Really and truly stupid. And there was a chance she was right. I couldn’t transfer a call for the life of me. Being it was a pretty vital part of my job as a receptionist, I understood the tone she was taking with me. That didn’t mean I liked it.
My new coworker, Natalie, tapped her coffin-shaped, matte-black nail on the phone’s buttons. “You can’t hang up on them. You know that, right?”
I kept my face straight, working hard not to blush, but it was a lost cause. My cheeks were on fire with embarrassment…and a little bit of anger. Contrary to what I’d shown, I had more than three brain cells.
“It wasn’t on purpose. I haven’t used a phone like this before. I’ll get the hang of it quickly.”
Her smoky eyes narrowed. Actually, all of her narrowed. Arms crossing on the curved, high surface of my desk, her tattooed shoulders bunched below her gauged ears, her shiny lips pursed.
“I won’t babysit you,” she hissed.
“I don’t need a babysitter,” I replied.
Someone to actually train me on my first day would have been lovely. Natalie, the person who had been assigned the task, had no interest. She’d shown that from the moment I’d arrived this morning, throwing me to the wolves without so much as a ‘the bathrooms are down the hall, bitch.’And that was fine. I really was a fast learner, I just hated making a fool of myself.
The phone rang, and Natalie watched me with raised eyebrows. Stomach in my throat, I pressed the answer button and spoke into my headset.
“Good morning, this is Wren. You’ve reached Good Music. How can I help you?”
I thought that sounded professional. I’d practiced it in the mirror last night and on my subway ride this morning. I just had to remember to switch over to ‘good afternoon’ when the time came.
The person on the other end asked to be transferred to someone in engineering. I put them on hold and sucked in a breath. Natalie hadn’t blinked once during this process. When I successfully made the transfer, I exhaled, and she finally allowed her eyelids to lower.
“There. Even a trained monkey could do it.” She smirked like she was clever and not spouting trite idioms.
I tilted my head and widened my eyes. “How long did you say you had this job before your promotion?”
She stilled except for her eyes. They scanned me up and down, then a slow smile spread on her shiny lips. “Well, damn.” Her nails flicked in my general direction. “I didn’t expect you to have claws. Look at you.”
I wondered if I should have apologized. The last thing I wanted was to make an enemy. I kind of hoped to be at this job for a while. But I hadn’t counted on someone like Natalie.
“What’s up with all the animal comparisons? Am I a monkey or a kitten?” Guess I wasn’t apologizing.
Her face reddened, and I thought I was done for. Three hours had to be a world record for the shortest time holding a job. I wasn’t even sure Natalie had the authority to fire me since she was only one step above me in the food chain, but I shouldn’t have been taking chances—not on my first day at a job I desperately needed. I still couldn’t quite believe I’d landed it in the first place, but that was beside the point.
She burst out laughing, tossing her head back with glee. “Oh, shit. Maybe I do like you.” Leaning over my desk to peer down at my outfit, her lips pressed together in a curved line. “You came in here looking like a lost little preschool teacher. I didn’t think you’d last a day. Now, I’m not so sure.”
I’d dealt with mean girls my whole life, but I had hoped that legacy wouldn’t follow me into the workplace. At what point did we grow up and get over it all? I was beyond ready for today to be the day.
I squared my shoulders. “I’m not going anywhere. I need this job.”
Her amusement was tempered slightly by my declaration. “That’s good to know. We have way too many girls who work here solely to meet rock stars. If I was involved in the hiring process, I’d throw in some music questions. Like, what’s your favorite band, Wren?”
“I don’t know. Foo Fighters. Blue is the Color. I like the White Stripes too.”
She rapped her knuckles on the desk. “See? That’s a good answer. None of those bands record here. If you’d said The Seasons Change or Blossoms and Bones, I wouldn’t have hired you.” She fluffed her glossy mane of finger waves. “But it’s not my decision. I’m just the one who has to work with the thirsty chicks they hire to sit at this desk.”
Good Music housed recording studios and some rehearsal spaces for artists signed to Good Music Records. Since GMR was a massive label with multiple smaller labels under its umbrella touching on every genre of music out there, the studios were bustling day in and day out. At least, that’s what I’d been told. As the receptionist manning the front desk, I saw everyone who entered the building. So far, it had been relatively quiet, but it wasn’t even noon. According to Natalie, musicians were night owls. The building never closed, and recording sessions often went overnight.
“That’s not me, I can promise you that. I’m here to work, not drool over musicians.”
“Good.” Natalie nodded. “I’ll hold you to that. Because some of these idiots think flirting is their job. If you show them even an ounce of interest, they’ll have you bent over a copier faster than you can say ‘I love your music.’ Trust me, keep it professional or you’ll regret it.”
She looked me over again, beginning at my sapphire-blue pleated skirt, which hit midcalf, up to my plain, long-sleeved black T-shirt. Her gaze swept over my small mouth, medium nose, and oversized brown eyes. She paused on my hair. Everyone did. It was light copper, thick and shiny—the only truly memorable part of me.
“Well, as long as you’re not throwing yourself at anyone, you probably won’t have a problem.” She added a smile on the end of her barb, I guessed to soften the blow. I already knew a rock star wasn’t going to walk in and sweep me off my feet without her driving the point home.
