Heels

“Interesting.”

Casper turned and sat down in his chair again, after spending the five previous minutes going over her new look with the eyes of a hawk. He had inspected her half-permed hair, the bow of her plucked eye brows, touched the hem of the pencil skirt she had been given, and narrowed his eyes at her red lipstick. Jackie had never felt more like a little, unsuspecting bird, about to be mangled.

“Interesting?” She echoed, hearing the nervousness in her own voice.

Casper nodded shortly, and folded his hands as he leaned back into his chairs, furrowing his brows at her. “Yes,” he said seriously, “I was afraid of what you were trying to hide with those hideous rugs above your eyes, but it seems it was just skin. Tell me, do you fear skin?”

Jackie bit her lip, not daring to show emotion, “No, I do not fear skin.”

“Really?” he said, rather testily, “I see you’ve gone to great lengths to conceal yours, and not just with the brows,” he gave her an overall look, “It’s better now that my little angels have given you something more of this century to wear, but you were really covering yourself up, weren’t you?” he let out a little laugh, “It was like you were sharing clothes with your grandmother.”

Jackie swallowed. “There’s nothing wrong with dressing properly,” she said quietly.

“Properly,” he echoed, a smirk forming on his thin lips. He swung one leg elegantly over the other and rested his ankle on his knee and was quiet for a moment, watching her. “Say, do you think you’re fat, Jackie Jean?" he asked, rather bluntly.

She blinked. “What?”

“It’s a simple question,” he retaliated as he straightened up, clearly pleased with her reaction, “It should have a simple answer. Perhaps it’s a sore spot?”

She furrowed her brows and looked away. “No,” she said with emotion, her hands finding each other, clutching, “I don’t think I’m fat.”

Any decent man would read her and leave the subject be, but even though Casper Welhaven was many things, decent was not one of them.

“I think you are. Fat, I mean. We all do.” Jackie pressed her lips together, not responding, not looking at him. “You’re hips are huge, your arms dangle, your legs have hardly improved - even with those five inches on your feet. You’re like the bumble-bee among the wasps,” A little breath left his nose, “And wasps sting, don’t we?” he mused, “For no apparent reason.”

She could feel his eyes on her forehead. “Yes,” she whispered, “you do.”

“Yes…” He watched her as her eyes prickled, “They told me you started crying in the Wardrobe.”

Jackie was still refusing to look at him.

“Why? Were they mean?” It could have been a nice question, a question to show that he cared and worried about how she was treated, but the mock in his tone was unmistakable. “Did they laugh at you? Click their tongues? Shake their heads?” Without even looking at him, she could tell he was smiling. “I bet you feel really sorry for yourself right about now, huh?”

He untangled his fingers and legs and got up, crossing the room slowly to stand in front of her. His finger touched her hip. “I bet you hate us,” he said spitefully. He was so close his breath was on her face, and it made the hairs on her arms stand up. She inched away from him, but he grabbed her chin and forced her to look at him. He had a lazy smirk across his lips. “Do you think you’re up for this, Jackie Jean?” He stared at her. “They won’t improve. I won’t improve. Only you can.” He dropped his hand. “Or fail.”

His green eyes wouldn’t let her go if she didn’t respond, that much she could tell. She wanted to turn around and leave, but couldn’t. Her pride was kicking in. “I can do this,” she said, trying to rid herself of the waver in her voice.

He pursed his lips. “There’s no turning back once you’ve said it. I won’t let you go. And you’ll be tangled in the web, and the more you try to get out, the further in you go - until you’re stuck.”

Jackie closed her eyes. “I can do this.” She sounded steadier now.

A smile brushed his perfect lips, and it almost reached his eyes. “Okay.” He peered down at her and she noticed her hands were clenching again. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“I won’t.”

They stared at each other for a long second, and he was about to say something more when the door flew up, and a dark blue sweater made its way in backwards through the opening. “Cassie!” the sweater yelled in a deep voice, “Help out, heavy!”

Casper went to help the man wearing the sweater with the boxes he was carrying, and Jackie slinked out of the way as they placed them on Casper’s desk. They looked like those boxes they had in police shows, with all the files. Jackie vaguely wondered what they contained, her eyes lingering by them, but was soon distracted by the new person in the room.

“Who’s this?” He asked, when he noticed Jackie, running a hand through his messy hair.

A smile slid across Casper’s face. “This,” he said, sneaking an arm around her waist, “is my Jackie Jean Jones," he peered down at her and she glanced quickly up at him. No one confused her like Casper. One minute he was calling her fat, and the next he was showing her off as his most prized possession. Jackie's head was spinning by it all. "Isn’t she marvelous? Jackie, meet John.”

John tilted his head to the side and looked at her, giving Jackie the opportunity to do the same, before he extended his hand, greeting her. He looked like he was an inch or four above average, had dark, longish hair and a bit of scruff on his chin. He was handsome, but what made him gorgeous were his dark, kind eyes. And the dimples as he smiled. “She sure is,” he said, before shifting his gaze to Casper, “and she’s your…?”

“PA.”

“Oh,” he looked at Jackie again. “She’s different,” he commented. Jackie tried to listen for a tint of something in his voice, but found nothing. She managed a meek smile.

“If by different you mean chubby and unattractive, then yes, she’s different,” Casper smiled, his eyes never leaving John.

John’s eyes turned reproachful. “That’s not what I meant, Casper.”

Casper didn’t seem too bothered by that, and turned to Jackie, who found herself retaliating from him. “John is my better half, as you can probably tell.” When Jackie didn’t respond he seemed annoyed. She could feel John’s eyes on her. “Oh, don’t be so boring, Jackie, we’re not dangerous.” He sighed, and let go of her waist, sitting down on the desk. “Go on out to the secretary’s station, ask Sally to give you the Rockhausen files - and don’t come back until I tell you to.” He sounded bored.

“Yes, Mr. Welhaven.” She nodded, relieved to get away from his mood, “Mr. John.”

“John Lubianco,” John said, “But John’s okay.”

"Mr. Lubianco."

His eyes were slightly apologetic as Jackie smiled curtly and nodded, before leaving the room through the door he had entered. Outside, she could breathe again.

~

Sally wasn't very hard to find, even if Jackie had never been in the secretary’s station before. She was right at the first desk in the section to the right of the floor beneath Casper’s office. The secretary’s station was a large room with file-cabinets and desks everywhere, but it was far quieter than the noisy area outside. Most of the people there were women, but there was the odd man as well, busying around. Casper’s comment on the wasps was really fitting, once Jackie thought about it.

“Hello,” Sally said when she saw Jackie, and looked at her with little eyes through thick glasses.

Many things about Sally were quite wonderful, Jackie Jean would later learn, but the most wonderful thing of them all, was how she looked. Sally was short, around 35-40 years old, larger than Jackie (though that might have something to do with the pregnancy), and her hair wasn’t any longer than Jackie’s freshly manicured nails. About three centimeters.

“Hi,” said Jackie, feeling a smile tint her mouth for the first time in two days. Sally looked nice, safe even.

“You must be Jackie Jean!” Sally said and came out from behind her desk, not wearing heels Jackie noticed. “I’m Sally, Mr. Welhaven’s first secretary. There are loads of us.” She stuck out her hand.

“Jackie Jones,” Jackie said, skipping the embarrassment of reciting all three names in order and greeted Sally by the hand, “so you’re like the Queen Bee, then?”

Sally laughed loudly, “Well, the Queen Bee is said to be the ugliest one!” Jackie’s eye brows rose, and Sally’s smile widened, “Oh, don’t look so shocked. I hardly fit in here, do I?” She motioned to the whole place.

Jackie didn’t know what to say to that, all day she had felt like there was some sort of veil between her brain and her tongue.

Sally got a peculiar look and tilted her head to the side. “You’ve been to the Wardrobe today, haven’t you?”

“Yes... I have,” Jackie said slowly, furrowing her brows as her hand involuntarily reached out to her wavy hair.

“Oh, dear,” Sally placed her hand on Jackie’s shoulder, “I know that look. Come, sit.” She lead Jackie to some couches by the door, the couch was soft and Sally took her hand.

“I usually don’t care to mention this, most of Casper’s PA’s have been some right pieces of work, and I’ve rarely felt any need to make them feel better about themselves, as they were doing quite the job of it themselves… but, I heard he picked you for a particular reason?” She gave Jackie a sympathetic look which hit her somewhere deep inside, where the emotional little Jackie was hiding.

Jackie nodded, feeling her bottom lip slide out and tears build up.

“Well, those girls down there are some real witches, every last one of them. Plastic on the outside, rotten on the inside. They weren’t very nice to you, were they?”

Jackie shook her head, sniffling.

“Well, let me tell you something. Almost every, single one of them annually apply for your job, and none of them have gotten it so far. They’ve gone bitter, sitting down in their pit, nursing their resentment.”

“Really?”

“It’s no lie. So, don’t you care about what they say to you or the looks they give you. They’re only jealous that you – a girl who’s by their views far below them – got the job they consider rightfully theirs.” Sally smiled and patted her hand as two rather large tears slid down her blushing cheeks, "It's okay. Have a little cry. You're safe here."

“Oh God,” Jackie mumbled, accepting the handkerchief Sally was handing her, “look at me, I’m a mess. You’re just being nice to me, and I start crying like little child,” she sniffled and dried her eyes, worried she was messing up her perfectly executed mascara, but of course it was too perfectly waterproof to even stain the fabric. “I’m so embarrassed.”

Sally smiled and rubbed her back soothingly, “Don't be. You’re just overwhelmed, Sweetie, this place is hell for normal people like us with a functioning emotional life. You've only been here two days, I remember my first week, I had to take breaks in the bathroom to cry.”

Jackie looked at her through wet lashes. “Is that true?” she whispered.

“It is,” Sally looked sad for a moment. “But it gets better. I promise.”