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I startle from my mini panic attack at the soft voice of the middle-aged woman who’s sitting behind the receptionist desk. They did say that I’d have someone from the IT department tell me about the building.
“Yes, that’s me.” I approach her with slow steps, though I really should stop thinking that one of the people here will bring out a gun and start shooting the whole building down.
This is not the dangerous world I came from.
“My name is Jill and I’m the secretary of the technicians’ side of the IT department.” She stands, and to my surprise, she’s about my height. That’s rare as hell since everyone is always taller than me.
Always.
Jill is wearing an orangey lipstick and a scarf that matches it, but it’s tucked neatly in her jacket since I’m sure bright colors aren’t exactly welcome in a law firm.
“This is where you’ll be working.” She leads me to an open area with countless screens hanging on the wall. Two men who appear to be in their thirties are already seated in front of their own multi-screens.
One of them wears frameless glasses that seem to be part of his face, and the other is wearing a plaid flannel shirt that’s stained—with coffee, I believe.
Both of them type at a rapid speed and monitor the screens, and I instantly feel a sense of belonging. The sound of a keyboard has always made me feel at peace, even in the midst of chaos.
“This is Chad and Ben. Guys, Jane will start working with you today.”
They don’t acknowledge me. Not even a twitch of fingers or the eye contact that I hate so much.
“Don’t worry about them, they’re nerds,” Jill tells me with a laugh to hide the awkwardness.
I’m a nerd, too, so I don’t offer her a reassuring smile, and that instantly makes her uncomfortable.
People are like that. They expect you to comply with what society wants and to avoid confrontation. But I’m done being a doll for show.
I’m done bending myself to fit in settings that don’t fit me.
Jill clears her throat. “Anyhow, the cafeteria is on the seventh floor. Your card gives you access to all floors except for the top tier where the managing partners’ offices are. You’re not allowed there unless they specifically ask for you and grant you security access. You might be called to the partners’ floor now and again to take care of computer problems. If you have any questions, let me know.”
And with that, she leaves, the clinking of her heels echoing in the silent space like ominous music from a movie.
The two guys are still not acknowledging me, so I sit in the one available seat in front of three switched-off monitors.
Hugging my laptop to my chest, I whirl around to face them. “Do you need my help with anything?”
They pause their tapping for a second to stare at me.
“We don’t need a girl,” glasses guy, Chad, says.
Ben, the one with the coffee stain, laughs. “Go play with your dolls, Plain Jane.”
Okay, so they’re the assholish type.
I don’t usually let insolence go. Those who do that would pay by my bodyguards’ wrath, but I don’t have any, and I never will again.
Because I’m free.
And these boys aren’t worth my getting all worked up. I no longer follow my family’s code of honor.
I follow my own.
So I ignore them and settle on my chair. Then I turn on my computer, enter the login details I was provided, and I start attacking the tasks the head of the IT department left me in an email.
My lips pull in a small smile as I soak in the feeling of having this peaceful, quiet setting with no one barking orders at me. This is what free people do. Work to provide for themselves.
It doesn’t take me long to finish the tasks assigned to me. They must be taking it easy on me on my first day, because by the time lunch rolls around, I’m done.
