The Truth

Lovely. Why am I not surprised? But at least that was some personal insight and two entire sentences.

Not giving up, I suggest, “Maybe you should try giving them treats? And then they might like you. ‘Don’t bite the hand that feeds you’ is a thing for a reason.”

Arnold scoffs, unswayed by my logic. “Not using my own dime to feed mangy mutts.”

Dude, who hates dogs that much? I bet five minutes at Ace’s daycare and he’d be singing a different tune. Or maybe he’d end up a pack appetizer if he’s right about dogs biting him. They know things, can sense people’s hearts. Or if they don’t have one in the empty cavern of their chest. Ahem, talking about you, Arnold.

“Well, I guess that’s smart. Save that money for the rabies shots. I hear those are suuuper easy and not painful at all.”

Megan and Stephanie hum in agreement, probably relieved to see my normal prickly side with Arnold come back to the fore.

“Sounds like worker’s comp to me,” he says grumpily, and I can tell that he’s given the idea some actual thought. “Paid vacation.”

He starts jogging in place, clearly ready to be out of here.

“A vacation is always a good thing, I guess,” I say dumbly because I don’t think recovering from a dog bite and taking shots are my idea of a vacation at all. I’d prefer sand, sun, and an agenda filled with exciting things like ‘sleep in late’ and ‘nap on the beach’.

“Yep. Any other dumb questions?”

Guess I’m not making progress after all.

I shake my head, barely suppressing a sigh. “No, just making conversation. Being friendly, you know?”

He huffs and eye rolls, grabbing the signature tablet from my hands before swish-swish speed walking out, his safety toe shoes slapping on the tile at a rapid-fire pace. “I’m late for my next delivery because of you.”

The accusation is harsh, and while not exactly surprising, it’s definitely overkill, so as soon as the door closes behind him, the three of us break into fits of laughter.

“What the hell was that?” Stephanie asks me. “You got a thing for Arnie the Asshole now?”

“No!” I protest, wheezing from laughing so hard. “I thought he might not be such a hardass if we were on better terms. Guess that backfired!”

“I’m late because of you,” Stephanie mimics, stomping her feet on the floor in a mix of a tantrummy toddler and Arnold speedwalking.

“Hmmph,” Megan adds, crossing her arms poutily, also imitating Arnold.

I’m glad to see Megan engaging a bit too. She needs a tiny smidge of corrupting so she’s not all sweetness and light and rice cake bland. It’ll help her move up the ranks professionally to have a bit of edge so she can stand up to people who’d take advantage, AKA Liana.

“Gotta get these packages delivered, dur-dur-dur.” My own parody of Arnold is supplemented with a derpy face and swinging arms.

“It’s always important to see how seriously a man takes his packag . . . es,” Stephanie says, delaying her ‘es’ until Megan’s blushing furiously. “Don’t you agree, Megan?”

“Uhm, well, speaking of packages,” Megan says before wincing at how that sounds. She grabs for the envelope, holding it up to clarify that’s what she meant. “It’s for Brandon in acquisitions. I’ll take it up.”

“No way,” Stephanie argues, yanking the envelope for herself. “If you go up there, Liana is gonna annihilate you while you’re flying solo. I’m not sending my girl up there without backup. I’ll do it.”

I steal the envelope from Stephanie. “And I’m not sending you up there to do the annihilating. I know your games.”

Stephanie feigns shock, as if she doesn’t know what I’m talking about, but when I raise an arched brow and glare, she gives in. “Fine.”

“Good,” I tell them both, glad that’s settled. “Need to stretch my legs anyway. Sitting on my ass isn’t good for me.”

“If that’s what ‘not good’ is, Boss,” Stephanie says, “sign me up!”

I laugh at the compliment and try to see what they mean, but I’m not an owl. No matter how much I twist and turn, my ass is firmly staying behind me. After a few failed attempts, I decide to stop trying to dislocate my vertebra and wave the envelope around before heading upstairs. And yes, I take the stairs. They’re good for my ass and my mind after the doozy of a morning.

It’s always an interesting challenge to get around the upper floors.

Each department in the Fox Industries building has its own vibe, some more light-hearted and some more dry and staid. Some of them nearly have a stick up their ass, and some are damn close to ‘Friday night party’ even at ten A.M. on Tuesday morning.

Like public relations discusses the nuances of language and how words appeal to people’s emotions on a philosophical level. Luckily, they mostly use their powers for good, doing things like drafting press releases that make Fox seem at times, on the forefront of the future of tech, and at others, a traditions-based, trustworthy company of the past. All with the turn of a phrase. For someone like me, whose brain to mouth filter gets gummed up with curse words and the unsoftened truth, I bite my tongue to stay silent when I’m around that group.