Destroy What Destroys You

Elyza left to Ireland and I shipped half of my stuff off to my dad’s. I called him first, to let him know how much to be expected and subtly hint that I was out of funds and might possibly need some money transferred into my bank account.

“Hello, ducky.” He greeted the phone easily.

“Hiya, dad.” I was standing on the balcony of the building, a rare cigarette pressed between my fingers. Moving had been stressful, first because I didn’t have enough boxes and then second because the guys I’d bribed to help me flaked at the last minute, so I had to enlist the help of a somewhat shady, inebriated neighbor to get my desk into the living room. Elyza had called some of her more reliable friends (with a van) to take my stuff to the postal service office. I was a little wary, but she swore up and down that they were good guys.

“How were yer finals?” He asked.

“Eh. They were alrigh’. They’re over wiff now. I’m just calling to let yeh know that my stuff should be arrivin’ in about a week and a half.”

“’ow much is it?”

“Not much. Clothes, CDs, my DVD collection, my desk, and some other odds ‘n ends. Should all fit in my room if you stack the boxes up properly, not strewn about.” I took a drag off the cigarette and relaxed my shoulders. I needed a back massage or a ten minute meditation session, as the tension in my muscles hadn’t eased for days.

“I can probably do that, I guess.” He joked lightly, but I knew that when I came back the last two weeks of summer, the boxes would be strewn messily around the house and the desk would be in the garage. My father was responsible, sure, but a lazy procrastinator.

“That’s good. When I come home, I’ll probably go through everything and ‘ave a rummage sale. Could use the money.” I leaned against the railing, hoping that my subtle hint would come across. I didn’t really like asking my father for money, because I was twenty and I felt like I shouldn’t rely on him as much as I sometimes did, but I needed some starter funds for metro tickets and food and money to go back to Bristol if the internship ended up being a major ton of shit.

“Are yeh flat broke?”

“Not flat broke.” I denied.

I heard my father sigh. “How much do yeh need?”

I made noncommittal sounds. “I dunno.”

I could practically hear him roll his eyes. “Penny, how much money do yeh want me to transfer inta yer account? Don’t make me guess.”

I took another long drag of the cigarette, holding the smoke and exhaling it slowly, watching it swirl and blend into the rest of the air. I focused on the cigarette, posed in my mobile-free hand.

“A couple hundred pounds would be fine.” I awkwardly said. I suddenly didn’t feel like smoking anymore, so I snubbed the cigarette on the railing and tossed it in the ash tray by the entry door. I stepped back inside of the empty apartment, surveying the room one last time. My school bag, laptop, and luggage were slumped against the edge of the kitchen island. I finished my last bit of packing this morning.

“Alright. I’ll transfer the money this afternoon when I go to the bank.”

“Yeh know, yeh could do that online if you made an account wiff yer bank--,”

“I don’t want my private information available online.” He cut me off. He’d been anti-advancements for a while.

I rolled my eyes. “Okay, dad, never mind. Forget it.”

“Fank yeh. Now the money will be in yer account this afternoon. I’ll be expectin’ the boxes. Be safe and call me when you’re settled.”

“Alright. Love yeh.”

“Love yeh too.”

I had been expecting something…different. Smaller, I guess. Like the basement of some guy’s parent’s house or a garage off of an abandoned building. The brick square fit in with the rest of the business area, save for the bright “Drop Dead” sign on one wall. Then there was a garage, a side door, and a fire escape.

I marveled for a second, before shrugging and crossing the street. Pushing my purse farther up on my arm, I used my free hand to ruffle my hair and then pull down the hem of my cut-offs. It might have been unprofessional and I might have been showing more than the acceptable skin amount, but it was hot. And muggy.

I pressed the buzzer next to the door and waited.

“Who is it?” A deep voice questioned.

“Uh, I’m here for the internship?” My voice went from high to low. I cleared my throat. I was unusually nervous. Since Elyza had mentioned it, I kind of couldn’t stop thinking about the possibility of there actually being an attractive lad in there who could sweep me off my feet / fill my sexual urges. Either/or.

“Name?” The voice sounded bored and I wondered if they got a lot of people pretending to be interns to sneak into the building. Was it really that big of a company? Between finals, packing, and my last hoorah with Elyza, I hadn’t Googled the company. I’d meant to, but time had slipped away.

“Penny Torrance.” I spoke my name confidently now, trying to sneak a smooth edge into the syllables.

A loud buzz emitted from the speaker next to me and I jumped slightly, before quickly grabbing the door handle. I readjusted my bag once again before walking into a small entrance room, complete with one folding chair and two posters, hung on opposite walls. Both posters advertised the company’s logo and the demented rabbit again. I didn’t stop to take in much, beside the hard concrete floor and the flight of stairs. Nothing like twenty steps with twenty pounds of clothing and shoes to really welcome you to six weeks of new beginnings.

No one came down to greet me or slap a “Hello, my name is ______” tag suggestively near my chest. Sure, a hello and introduction would most likely be slightly obnoxious and annoying, but it also might make me feel secure that I was not making a mistake in taking this internship or, on a smaller note, at least in the right building. Maybe there were eight Drop Dead industries around Sheffield and I’d gotten the addresses messed up.

Stairs were conquered quickly and soon enough I was faced with an open loft full of about twelve people, scattered around two drafting tables, a couple computers, and a comfortable looking IKEA sofa. Though all twelve pairs of eyes immediately landed on my body in all of its scantily clad goodness, only one girl actually bothered to pull herself away from her seating area of choice and say something.

“Penny Torrance?”

I nodded quickly.

She crossed the room quickly. After overcoming my fear of being in the wrong building, I calmed down enough to notice that she was wearing similar summer garb – shorter-than-necessary shorts and a simple top. This girl was also strikingly pretty, with white-blonde, shoulder-length hair, brown eyes, and a myriad of tattoos, ranging from the gypsies on her thighs to the lettering of “patience” spelled out across her knuckles. What can I say, I’m an observer sometimes.

“Glad yeh found the place okay.” She said, in some form of greeting, I guess.

I nodded again, squeaked out a measly ‘yup’, and swiftly dropped my bags in the middle of the floor. A couple glass bottles clanked around, but they didn’t sound broken. I had, after all, brought my favorite bottles of liquor, just in case.

“I’m Melissa.” She said, but she didn’t stick out her hand for me to shake.

“Penny.” I said automatically. “But yeh already knew that.”

“That I did, that I did.” She sent me a small smile, maybe meant to be comforting, but all her straight white teeth really did was make me wish that I’d bothered to floss that morning.

“Well, glad yeh’re here. It’s going to be a busy summer, with all of the boys home ‘n all. Let’s skip straight to intros then. Yeh’ve got Johnny, the guy who fixes the computers; Isaac, the guy who fixes the orders; Jessica, who handles customer service; Maria, who deals with problems; Zahc, who runs the blog; Ryan and John, who make up about a third of the design team; Tom, who deals with photography and other mindless things; Tiana, who takes care of finances; myself, who runs the whole thing; and lastly Oli, AKA Boss Man, who makes up another third of the design team all by himself and who runs and funds the entire project. There are a lot of other miscellaneous people round constantly, and some of our staff only come in a couple times a week ‘cause they work from home.” Melissa pointed out various people as she talked. Each nodded back at me, some even sending a welcoming smile, before turning back to their work or conversations.

No one really stuck out. Most of them all had body modifications (though not all) and they all looked really into their work.

Melissa began to walk as she talked, pointing out other parts of the office. “This is where most of the design work gets down, and the chilling out. Through that door is the toilet. Next to that is the ‘break’ room, which really means room wiff a fridge and coffee pot. The other room is where most of the finance and customer service desks are, and then downstairs, past the entrance, is where all of the boxes and shirts are for shipping out.”

As she finished, she took another glance back.

I nodded, confirming that I heard all that she said, though not promising to retain it all. “Got it.” I said.

“It’s really not all tha’ much, but most of the other stuff is handled from third party companies and such.” She waved around.

She turned again, this time fully facing me, and smiled. “It’s a lot to take in at once, I know, but yeh’ll get it. The lady who recommended yeh said you were smart and creative, which are two big qualifications in our book. As long as yeh already know how to order coffee, carry large amounts of liquor, and navigate around a computer, yeh should be good.”

“I can do all that.” I stated confidently. “My roommate orders a small iced coffee, with two pumps vanilla syrup, one pump white mocha, and half and half on the bottom. I’ve yet to get that one mixed up, so I think ‘m good.”

Melissa laughed lightly. “S’good then. We’re more complicated on our alcoholic drinks than our caffeinated ones, I’ll admit. It’s not a hard internship, really. Flexible hours and none of us are pricks.”

“Bonuses.” My light attempt at humor was noticed and Melissa laughed. I was trying to shake the nerves. It wasn’t even technically my first day working, but I still had the jitters.

“Yeh can come hang out with us for a bit.” She said, walking back into the main room. A couple more people had stopped working in the five minutes that it had taken her to show me around. Now they were gathered around the sofa, a few of them sitting cross-legged on the floor. “Chill before we decide which one of us yeh’ll be roomin’ wiff.”

I tensed up again, taking a seat on the backless cushion that was offered to me. Most everyone was having a conversation about something work related, which I had nothing to contribute to. Once that ended, a couple people welcomed me to the job and started asking questions. Where I was from, how old I was, what I was majoring in, what type of music I liked, when I had gotten my tattoo, etc., etc. I kind of doubted that most of them cared (but a few of them might). Rather, they were trying to make me feel welcomed. The attempt was appreciated.

Half way through my interrogation, one of the guys, whose name I had already forgotten, leaned in and hesitated for an exaggerated moment. His hair wasn’t very long and his eyes were a nice shade of green. The off-white plugs in his ears clashed with the pastiness of his skin.

“Aye, Penny, are you ready for the vital question?” He asked, looking me straight in the eye. I raised an eyebrow, before nodding.

“Sure?”

He broke eye contact, looking at everyone else in the room. He hesitated once again, before leaning back and saying, with an edge of dead seriousness in his voice,

“What type of liquor did yeh bring?”

Just about all of them looked relieved, even a few impressed, when I said whiskey.