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2
Kerenza
It never failed. Whenever someone asked me what I did for a living, and I told them, they get this…this barely contained judgmental look in their eyes. As if there aren’t worse things a girl could do for money. I could think of quite a few, as a matter of fucking fact.
I could be a contract killer.
Or an escort.
Or a drug mule.
My nine-to-five errs on the legal, albeit racy side; I’m a pussy model.
Okay, okay, I’m exaggerating. I’m a lingerie model, specializing in underwear that barely qualify as underwear because of the lack of coverage down there. Basically, I spend my time on hours-long shoots with my pussy lips on display for the camera.
Hey, at least the pay is good and no one tries to kill me.
Underthingz Lingerie Co. has been my employer for the last eighteen months, and I was praying it stayed that way. But going by the declining sales as of late, I wasn’t sure how much longer I would have a job. Maybe I would have to follow in my cousin Kelendria’s footsteps and make the jump into the world of book cover modelling.
Maybe.
I parked in the lot behind my for-now job and speed-walked around to the front door. The mandatory Monday morning staff meeting for all Underthingz employees started five minutes ago, which meant I was late.
After running up three flights of stairs—because the elevator was still out—I was sweating profusely.
Great. Just great.
Being a natural-haired black woman—meaning I didn’t put perms or other harmful chemicals in my hair—I only wore my hair straight two times a year: in the spring and in the fall. While straight, if it got wet or if I started sweating…bye-bye eighty-five dollar blow out, hello puffy roots and curly hair.
Finally, I made it to the third-floor conference room. I stood outside the door for a brief second to catch my breath, and swiped at the dampness that had gathered on my forehead. Then, gently opened the door, hoping I could sneak into the room without drawing too much attention. No sooner than I put one foot inside the room, did every single head swivel in my direction. My face burned with embarrassment.
“My bad,” I muttered, then scurried to an empty table at the back of the room.
Gayle, our district Vice President, stood at the front of the conference room.
“As I was saying, the reports are in from our last fiscal year, which you all received via email, and they look good—good, but not great.” She paused to let her words sink in before continuing. “The company is not yet at the point where we need to worry, but we are going to be looking into some cost-saving initiatives.”
A hand shot up in the air, its stubby fingers waggling impatiently. Irritation flitted across Gayle’s face before she masked it with an accommodating smile.
“What is it, Wendell?”
Wendell Peters was the acting campaign director while our real director was out on paternity leave. Fun fact: no one likes Wendell. He’s a control freak on a major power trip.
Clearing his throat, Wendell spoke in a loud, pompous voice. “I have a cost-saving suggestion…how about we start with some minor downsizing? Off the top of my head, there are two people in the marketing department alone who don’t do their jobs well enough to justify their paychecks.”
Gasps of shock erupted inside the conference room, masking the low chuckle that had escaped my mouth. I didn’t like Wendell any more than the next person here at Underthingz, but man, did the guy have chutzpah.
Gayle’s normally pale face turned a splotchy beet red, and her eyes bulged. I expected her to fly off the handle, but instead, she remained composed and silent for a full minute.
“Wendell?” she said in a voice that was the polar opposite of how pissed she looked.
“Yes?”
Her voice was devoid of emotion when she announced, “You’re fired.”
My mouth popped open in surprise. A wave of silence rolled over the room, drowning us all. No one moved, blinked, or breathed for a solid forty-five seconds.
Suddenly, a chuckle pierced the air. It was so smug and annoying, I immediately recognized it as belonging to Wendell. It took him a few seconds of laughing alone to realize that this wasn’t a joke. That he’d actually just been fired.
