turned
twenty-five.
She
pulled back her long raven colored hair into a ponytail. The locks were too
long and thick to leave flying loose. She wore no makeup as she wanted to look
earthy, also she didn’t like the feel of the stuff on her face.
Phoning
the ad in the paper, she hadn’t really expected to get a date. However, the
quick conversation had led to a date in a local café. The mystery man
requesting she wear a red scarf. When she asked how she would recognize him, he
informed her not to worry. He would be the one to find her.
“This
is it,” she said to the mirror. She had to work late and there would be no
going out for her. Clara couldn’t remember a Friday when she did get a chance
to go out. No matter how many times she tried to get out of the current meeting
she always came back to the same thing, her father’s debt and her own safety.
Grabbing her bag on the way from her bedroom, she walked out her front door.
She
purchased coffee and a bagel at the stand outside the office where she worked.
People were all about bumping her. Before entering the building she was
determined to drink her beverage. Lunch would be another matter. Her life could
end before she got to her lunch break.
Everyone
moved to their cubicles as she walked up to her desk. Her job grew less
thrilling with every passing day. At twenty-five she was nothing more than the
office slave sorting files and complaints while being asked constantly to make
coffee. She’d been transferred to the top floor for the executives’ convenience.
Most of the tea making people spent a great deal of time along the bottom floor
dealing with the mail or packages. Claire didn’t understand why she’d been
moved to the top floor.
She
recognized the glares she received from the other women who worked on the same
floor. They clearly felt her beneath them. None of the women on the top floor
ever set foot on the lower levels. Their taunts always made her feel small no matter
how many times she tried to ignore them. The women made her feel like they knew
she wasn’t supposed to be on the same floor with them.
Clara
held no control on where management put her.
During
the morning rush where everyone tried to catch up and get ready for the
weekend, Matthew Johnson, the company’s owner stopped by her desk. He always sent
letters down for her to type, then lingered until she started to squirm under
his watchful gaze. Without fail, he found reasons to visit her desk every day. The
guy had such a great body. His suit always molded nicely to him, highlighting
how big he was.
Clara,
being the fuller woman, knew what it meant to have a man who could take her.
All of her dates ended in disappointment as none of them wanted to date the
‘fat’ girl. That continued to be her label—the fat friend to the skinny girl.
She knew her friend, Tara, meant well. She just wished blind dating would bring
her something more than disappointment.
By
lunch time her nerves were frayed. She checked the clock constantly waiting for
the time when she could leave to go to her meeting. The moment her lunch hour
came she ran to the café, wrapping the red scarf around her neck. She ordered a
coffee with another bagel, and then took a seat where the man on the phone had
told her to.
With
her back to the door, she tried not to keep glancing around. She knew the
chance of the stranger staying would be a long shot after he saw her. Luckily,
the coffee tasted delicious. She lifted her bagel to her mouth when he sat down.
Her boss stared at her, waved to the waitress then removed his jacket.
For
several moments she stared at him, not knowing what to do. His piercing brown
eyes studied her.
“Mr.
Johnson, I’m supposed to meet someone here,” she said, trying not to stammer.
How could anyone tell their boss to go away?
“I
know who you’re supposed to meet, Clara. You’re sitting right in front of him.”
His voice made her freeze. The article in the paper requested a paid
Cassandra Clare
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