Chrysalis

“Chris! Get your ass in here!” My boss shouted from out of his brightly lit office.

I dropped my manila folders and very apparently moaned. This was going to be rough, as always.

I dragged myself across the firm’s floor for everybody to spot a dead woman walking. I stand in front of the doorway.

“You called?” I lifted my eyebrow and lowered my voice.

“Alright, sit down…smart ass,” He turned his exceedingly tall throne towards me as I reached the chair and sat down. His James Bond villain exterior suited him well, with his un-needed pin stripped suit and slicked back hair. Time has generously aged his face to the point of his jowls looking like Droopy Dog’s. “You’re gonna want to take notes on this, sweet heart,” He quickly threw a pen at me.

The pen bounced off my forehead, “…ouch.” I didn’t move. “What do I have to take these so called ‘notes’ on?” I smirked and crossed my arms.

“Alright, lose the fucking attitude. You’re lucky the readers like your shit, because I would’ve had your ass thrown out of here!” He bolts up from his extravagant chair and steps toward the plate glass window. “Jon Bon Jovi discovered a band called Cinderella, last year. I want the full scoop on this, so I called the band’s manager and I set up a meeting. You’re going tonight to do an interview at 9. I hope you haven’t planned anything later on today, because your job depends on this.” He turns around and gave me a cold death stare.

“Yeah, alright. So at 9?”I said, annoyed.

I lift up from the chair and brush my pants.

“Yes, and you better be there early!” He points at me.

“Aren’t I always?” I shrugged.

He squints his eyes and lowered his arm, “Get the fuck out of my office!”

“Okay, sheesh…” I paced right out of the room and back to my pathetic little cubicle.

He’s always such a hard ass for no specific reason. I have an odd suspicion that his wife is cheating on him. She shops at the fruit market by my building and sometimes I catch her there, oddly staring at the cucumbers. You’d think my Boss would have a nice little stay-at-home mom type of women who puts up with his shit, but no, she’s a plastic blow up doll. The only thing that ranges differently from these women is their hair colors. They strap themselves on their man’s leg and lightly call, “okay, baby,” “yes, baby,” “whatever you say, baby.” I’m not seeing how these men can be doing anything else but fuck these oxygen thieves. I think I’ve explained the “musician’s wife.” The one groupie that stuck around long enough to bag the musician.

There was a night where I spotted her not being alone picking out the friendly cucumbers. She was with a man, no older than me, playfully feeling her up under her skirt, and if you knew me, I carted away searching for the Kit-Kat bars and not paying any attention to it.

Work was finally over when I struggled to reach for the elevator button. I was trying to tie my scarf around my neck when my finger was out in the air and jabbed someone in the eye.

“Ah! What the fuck!” I heard a raspy, English voice yell.

My head darted to the right of me and I processed who I was looking at. His name was Richard, and he was a writer just like me. He dreadfully resembled a musician, although I think he was. His hair reminded me of Shelly’s; Long, blonde, and carried the substance of Aqua Net. His eyes seemed to be simulated, as they were vastly pale blue. He sported the trendy leather jacket with a Crimson Ghost pin. His face held a muscular tone, and his jaw line was strong with cheek bones that were very noticeable at first glance. Okay, I’ll admit it…he was one good looking guy.

For some reason I just stood there…examining him. He turned to me with a wrathful glare.

“You poke somebody’s eye out, and you say nothing?! What’s wrong with you, chick?!” He scorched.

I snap out of my trance, “I…uh, I’m...s-sorry?” I cringe.

He sighed, “Yeah, whatever, fuck it…”

The elevator bell rang and it unguarded its doors. I just stood there, frozen.

He walks in and looks out, “You gonna get in, or what?” He snaps back to me.

I shake myself, “Yeah! Uh, sure!” I run inside the elevator.

When the elevator doors closed, it was the start of a very long and awkward silence. I stood there with my moldy bag, and he stood with his hands dug into his faded pockets, loudly chewing gum. He was good looking at first, but I just hated his guts even more from every floor we went down from the sixteenth.

I finally snapped at the tenth, “Can you close your mouth when you chew?!” I winced.

He looks over, “fuck you, you ugly bitch.” He furrowed his brow and looked back to gawk at the brightly lit buttons.

“Oh, how original…really. Ugly bitch? It’s not like I haven’t heard that one before…Couldn’t you be a little more creative with your insults to women who don’t cover their shame in make-up?” I playfully batted my lashes at the corner of his eye. “I mean, you could’ve called me a cunt, or a dyke if you wanted to, y’know, spike it up a notch?”

He slowly turned to me with a grin and lost it. His hands were at his sides trying to hold himself together from the laughter he got from my honest quote,” Holy, shit…ha ha ha ha ha…ha, you’re a different one, aren’t you?” He wiped his tears from his eyes and stood up.

“No, I’m just your average, everyday ‘ugly bitch,’” The doors opened and I quickly walked out, leaving the guy behind trying to convey a question of who I was.

I went out the large clear glass doors of the building and went outside to use the pay phone. I got out some change, pushed it through the slit, and dialed the digits. The phone rang about two rings before she picked up, “hello?”

“Yeah, hi, it’s Chris. I got another interview-“

“With who?!” She interrupted.

“With Cinderella…”

I heard a loud smacking of the phone being tossed on something wooden, and some quick footsteps.

“When and where?” She sounded a little too ready for the occasion.

“I, uh…I’ll get a cab and pick you up. So I’m leaving-“

“Okay! I can’t wait!” She squealed.

I was unsure of what she already had planned, “See you then-“

“Okay, bye!” She hung up.

She was the only girl I knew who was in my age group. The rest I knew from knitting class, who were middle aged women that are grateful to still have all their teeth, and with husbands dropping like flies. A gruesome thought, but life insurance was all the rage from last night’s class.

I walked down the side of the street and yelled out at my fullest, “TAXI!” A cab screeched over and bounced back from the sudden stop. I got in, shrugging off if the shocks were strong enough.

“45th and Madison,” I hunched over to get my heavy bag off my shoulder.

“Okay!” I saw an old Indian man salute through the rear view mirror.

My nails dug holes into the head rest of the cab driver’s seat in front of me. New York City traffic was one thing I try and stay away from as much as possible, but I have to have Shelly’s help.

The cab finally arrived at Shelly’s loft where she shared with two other abnormally lustful women. One of the women is a 20-year-old, voluptuous, kindergarten teacher that works near the Bronx. The only thing that creeped me out about her was when she oddly admitted she was bisexual when I first walked into their home. Of course I wouldn’t flatter myself with the thought of her actually taking a liking to me, but either way I try and keep my distance. The second woman, who resides in their overly hormonal love shack, is 20 years older than the other two. In my book she’s one desperate cougar. But, surprisingly I find her succeeding into getting the infamous one night stands with a few local musicians. I wouldn’t forget the day when I found Tommy, the absent minded, body builder drummer, rummaging through a heap of clothes scattered onto the living room’s floor. Strangely, I was buzzed up by Shelly anyway, as I saw the two getting dressed. I just stood there and pondered if he was expecting to be waking up to a chick who was not a 45-year-old mother of four. Well she looked like it anyway.

I scooted myself out of the cab, while handing the driver my fare. I closed the door and headed up the two flights of cement stairs. I reached the buttons that connected to every floor of the building. I jammed the second floor’s button.

“Hold on, I’ll buzz you up!”