EXCERPT :
 

“Get a move on, slowpoke!”

            Jane barely had time to secure the cover over her vending machine coffee cup before Melissa, her best friend and coworker, tugged her away from the machine, out of the break room and into the elevator.

            “Damn, Mel, what’s your problem?”  Wiping drops of coffee off her hand, Jane shuffled toward the rear of the elevator car to make room for the junior executives stepping in after her.  She hated how these wanna-be tycoons thought they owned the building.  She also hated their discount suits and perfect hairstyles, but fighting them wouldn’t make much sense.  Barton Enterprises, owned by the mysterious and illusive Brandon Barton, was the place to be for up-and-coming business men and women.  Dealing with their attitudes was simply a fact of life for the other employees. 

Jane was content in her position as an administrative assistant (“I’m not just a secretary.”) to Roger Weltman, Division Head of Marketing.  She enjoyed her position even though Roger was a stuck-up, pin-headed, pointed-nose, no-talent jerk who tried to work as little as he possibly could.  Of course, she never complained about his lack of a work ethic.  After all, his staying out of the office gave her more freedom.

            “He’s here.” 

The sparkle in Mel’s eyes should’ve clued her in, but it was still morning and she wasn’t a morning person.  As a rule, she tried to ignore any and all sparkles until after lunch.  “Who’s here?”

            In one smooth motion, the women in the elevator pivoted toward her, their mouths dropping open like a school of big mouth bass.  They acted as though she’d questioned God’s existence, the healing attributes of chocolate, and the necessity to carry a makeup bag all in one two-word sentence.  “What?  What’d I say?”  She shrugged at the others who twitched the corner of their mouths in identical sneers, and turned their backs on her in disgust.

            Mel, looking as shocked as the others, yanked her closer.  “He’s here.  Wake up.  You know who I’m talking about.  Why else would all these bitches be headed to the top floor?”

            She glanced again at her fellow passengers―belatedly noting the lack of any person with a penis between their legs―with their gazes locked on the lighted bar above them, tracking the numbers as they climbed from the lobby to the twenty-third floor.  The Executive Floor.  The floor where the Great and Powerful made business deals involving gazillions of dollars and charted the company to ever-increasing profits.  The floor where Brandon Barton’s office was located.  Or as some of the women in the company liked to call it―Hunk Haven.

            “You’re totally hopeless.”  Mel shot her an exasperated look and rolled her eyes.  Jane knew her friend expected more, wanted her to get as excited as she was, but she simply couldn’t.  After all, when competing against the beautiful, thin women standing in front of her, what chance would a chubby brunette have?  Answer: no chance in Hell.  Nada.  Nothing.  Which, she reasoned, begged the question—why try?

The elevator doors slid open and one after another of the femme fatales swayed into the lobby area of the penthouse office space.  With a not-very-discreet glance toward his office, one after another of these college educated women got down to the real business of their day—taking up sentinel right outside his door.