Free Thirty Days: Part One by Belle Brooks Page B

appeared, he disappears. The sound of the door closing means I finally inhale air. I hadn’t realised I’d stopped breathing.
    I think I might like this place.

Amusement
    “Abigail, are you hungry?” Asher clears her throat, standing in the open doorway.
    “Famished,” I reply, rubbing at eyes that sting from the glare of my computer screen.
    “Well, come on, let’s go eat.”
    “Am I allowed to? Should I run it by the Nazi down the hall first?”
    She giggles as she leans against the doorway. “The Nazi will be fine with you having lunch. It’s one p.m. That’s your break time and mine.”
    “Awesome. Hang on…I didn’t bring lunch. What do you have for lunch? Sharing is caring, my new friend.”
    She laughs. “I eat at Leyton’s next door. Most of us do.”
    “But there’s a staff room?”
    “That mainly gets used for coffee.”
    “I’ll need to go to the car and get my bag first.”
    “You left your bag in the car?” Her hand presses to her forehead.
    This concerns her, why?
    “Yeah, morning rush.” I shrug. She laughs again.
    “Okay, I’ll meet you there. Two shops down. Big yellow sign. You won’t miss it.”
    “Sounds good.” Document saved.
    As I’m about to leave, there’s a ringing sound coming from the desk. It’s the phone, which hasn’t rung all morning. In fact, I had no idea what it sounded like.
    “Hi,” I answer.
    “That’s not professional, Abi.”
    “Who is this?”
    “Samantha, your best friend and ally, in a world you think is filled with enemies.”
    “No, doesn’t ring a bell, sorry. I think you have the wrong number. This is a law firm, lady.”
    “Stop dicking around. How’s the first day going?”
    “Stellar.”
    “One word? That’s it?”
    “Pretty much.”
    “Well, this was a waste of forty cents.”
    “Firstly, you wouldn’t be paying the forty cents, the television network would. Secondly, where did you pull the cost of forty cents from, your arse?”
    “You’re very funny.” Sammy laughs, making over exaggerated and quite frankly dorky snorting sounds.
    “It’s a gift.”
    “Stop changing the subject. Seriously, how are you?” Her tone fills with frustration.
    “Okay. I have to be quick because I’m on lunch. Well, that’s what I’ve been told, and, girl, I’m hungry as fuck. I’ll give you a quick rundown. Hold on to your seat.”
    “Listening intently, seat is bolted down,” she retorts, making me laugh.
    “Good. Office: small. Direct boss: a bitch. Overall boss: have not met. Probably a dick—”
    “You can’t say that about Trish’s dad.”
    “Well, have you met him?”
    “No.”
    “So possibly a dick it is then. Now stop interrupting.”
    “I only interrupted once,” she argues.
    “No, there you go again, interrupting. That’s twice now.”
    Sammy giggles. “Carry on.”
    “Okay. Front desk operator: awesome. Lift: I use it a lot. We’re acquainted. I think we’re friends. Well, it hasn’t stopped on me today so far. Male assistant on the lower level: hot, funny and does my work for me.”
    Her gasp pierces my eardrum. “What, there’s a hot guy? Tell me more!”
    “Interrupting,” I say in song.
    “I hate when you sing words.”
    “No, you don’t, you love it.”
    “Continue,” Sammy encourages.
    “Computer screen: hurts my eyes, and lunch breaks are taken at a place called Leyton’s and not in the fancy staff room provided. Apparently, that is only used for coffee. That sums it up, Ginger. I have to go. Ring me tonight. I’ll come round?”
    “Sounds like a plan, Dorothy.”
    “Now if you don’t mind, food is about to be my bitch.”
    “Go eat. Love you.”
    “Ditto.”
    ***
    The yellow sign was obvious. Nobody could miss such a huge and boring display. Asher is sitting at a booth in the corner of a large open space. My first thoughts are that Leyton’s is a sandwich house of sorts. This pleases me. I slide my bag and then myself into the seat opposite my lunch companion.
    “I’m