Free Bev: The Interview by Bobbi Ross Page B

sentences. Postures stiffened, muscles visibly tightened and faces darkened, creased with practiced lines of annoyance. Even the air reclamation units seemed to pause for a moment as if afraid to breathe. Bev lifted her nose and inhaled deeply. Generations of her people eking out a living in the deadly jungles of Zedrovia – her home world – had honed their senses to pinprick accuracy. She wrinkled her nose at the sour scent befouling the serene environment. There was a shark in the water.
    Sure enough, a lanky, 6’4’’ humanoid male with way too much hair grease and enough cologne to make her eyes water, even from that distance, strutted in from the far hall wearing an expensive tailor-made, three-piece, light gray suit. Bev could envision Emery rolling her eyes at the handsome male moving across the room with an air of entitlement. What was it she usually called his type?
    “Pompous ass-jack,” she beamed then cringed, acutely aware she should have used her inside voice. She recognized him as one of the vice presidents of the Extravagance Corporation. Oddly no one seemed to have heard her. Bev watched in awe as secretaries, lawyers and executives – all of the female persuasion, she noted – scattered to the four winds like spooked Jenarpian cats.
    Yummmm, cats. Bev's eyes glazed over and her blue tummy rumbled reminding her that she needed to eat. A bit of shark for lunch might be a nice change of pace. She licked her luscious lips hungrily as she searched the room and spied the greasy predator attempting to corner his prey.
    It was that nice girl, the secretary from the closest cubicle who Bev had waved to earlier. The tight scowl marring her otherwise beautiful face betrayed her disdain at the predator stalking her and invading her space. The shark was on the hunt. Her previously care free, relaxed posture went fast hard and rigid. The muscles in her neck taut and ready to snap. The atmosphere was crackling with tension. Bev could practically hear his leer in the dead silence of the hushed office.
    "Good morning Victoria,” he uttered, slowly tasting every syllable of the young woman’s name.
    She flinched, blinking her big, almond-shaped, sapphire blue eyes but kept her gaze focused on the screen sitting on top of her desk.
    He situated himself in her line of view casting a hard shadow on her trembling hands. "We've been having some problems with the copiers and I was wondering if you could come and help me, fix them?"
    "Not a problem," the girl replied with a flat albeit upbeat lilt. But Bev knew better. She recognized the well-practiced tone. She had used it herself too many times in her many years of service in the hospitality business. It was anger mixed in with a healthy dose of profound repulsion in the seemingly professionally pleasant tone of her voice. Refusing to take her eyes off of her screen she quickly keyed in several numbers on the phone tablet attached to her terminal, before addressing the shark. "I can have maintenance here in five, just let me know which terminal is giving you trouble Mr. Quagmire."
    Using one long crooked finger he pushed the “end call” button on her key pad. The simple but intrusive gesture somehow obscene coming from him evoked a shutter from both women as if they realized in one breath that their chairs were now sitting on top of Darduvian ants’ nest.
    "Vicki, Vicki, Vicki… Do we really need to play these games?" Eyes narrowed to knife slits, the vice president of marketing leaned in close next to the beautiful secretary's ear, his voice a barely audible whisper, "You know what you really want, don't deny it."
    Across the room in the waiting area Bev shook her head repulsed. She was hoping to make a good impression at the home office. Get in. Get out. Leave everyone dazzled. She was Bev after all. An exasperated sigh slipped through her lips. It wasn’t meant to happen. She'd seen enough of his type in her many years of service as she rose through the ranks