Chapter 4 She must be stupid

Zack smiled conceitedly. He could hear her tired legs thud the concrete road snappily, her increased breathing and gym bag hitting her thigh, causing a ruffle in his ears. She cursed him in her mind and he knew it, yet he walked even faster, forcing her to bump into other passersby that earned breathless apologies from her. And she dared not beg him to slow down.

Crazy man! Crazy Crazy man! Marjorie concluded spitefully, pushing crude thoughts of a bike knocking him off the sidewalk onto the road away from the surface of her mind, clouding the gnawing sensation in her belly that caused her to be nauseated and dizzy.

Just as she was about to faint, he stopped abruptly, pulling a set of keys from his pocket while facing a door. She blinked stupidly, taking in the scene and feeling more stupid as she had failed to observe the environment while walking. She doubted she could trace the path back to the gym as she had paid more attention to the swaying of his hips than the road that led to this now very eerie alley.

'I live here. Come in... Take of your shoes please, they have germs.'

You have germs sir!

'Yes sir.'

A studio apartment, boring and small like the apartment of a serial killer. Why did she expect a castle? He was Agnes' son after all, except he was adopted and her dead daughter was the actual heir to the throne. But even so, Marjorie had a larger apartment than him, she had a TV and cute interiors that would compensate a bad day.

No but this house screamed SPOOKY!

The only adaptable presence in the apartment was the scent of sandalwood and watermelon, and she loved watermelon. Apart from that, the ambience was not welcoming, perhaps it was the emptiness that disappointed her as she had expected more from him. It had to be the absence of a TV or the glum dark brown curtains or the abnormally brown sofa sitting proudly at the center of the room like it intimidated other furniture. She frowned in observance, it was just a sofa and a table, a tiny refrigerator at the corner and lord he did not have a kitchen! Her eyes wandered until they met his in accusation. Like why did he not have a kitchen!? He was definitely someone that begged his neighbors for food because he was a bachelor... A player maybe... But a bachelor that ate his neighbors food... Does he even have neighbors? She contemplated, considering the disturbing silence that hung now in the air. Not a single sound, not of anything that lived or breathed. Just him eyeing her weirdly with a smug smile on his face.

'Had your fill of my apartment? You missed the closet. Pick your size, take a shower and get to work.'

She nodded grimly. 'Yes sir.'

He made her skin scrawl, his eyes hot on her skin, trailing her to the closet cooped at the corner of the room. Awkward but she enjoyed the attention, acting self-consciously by adding extra elegance to her walk, a walk Zack found hilarious as it was unnatural. She wanted to be a bad girl for him. She wanted to please him, therefore heeded to his every word, from taking her bath to picking a revealing skirt and designer leather jacket for work.

'Talked to your friends recently?'

Caught off guard, her jaw dropped, eyes widened in astonishment and nose flared in terror. How was she supposed to answer the question? How was she supposed to admit that she had taken their requirements for granted?

'Pale as a ghost huh? Let me guess, you called and told them we're freaks. Or worse, told them we've been deceiving the public for years with my dead sister's photograph.'

Ouch. That was the height mistrust.

'No I didn't. I swear, I just told her I'd gotten the job, so I could do away with them, as soon as possible but in the most reasonable manner.' She sputtered with sheer anxiety, panic strung on her face as she anticipated his reply. She had never been this scared in her life, why did she think he would corner her and strangle the light out of her eyes for breaching the contract.

'You rant this much?' He asked calmly.

She swallowed, trying to get a grip on herself, he didn't seem to be actively interested in her communication with Danielle and Miranda. As a matter of fact, he did not pay attention to her at all, absorbed in whatever he read on his phone as he motioned to the refrigerator.

'Grab a fruit or something.'

She complied to his offer, but as soon as she reached for the handle of the fridge, her brain shredded to the assumption that her employer bore an ulterior motive, so she released the handle and turned to him with a saccharine smile.

'On a second thought, I have my lunch in my bag pack. I wouldn't want to run you short on ...' She paused.

'Food?' He asked wryly, with a high raised brow she feared might get lost in his hair.

'Actually sir, I just think...'

'First, you do not have food in your gym bag, that is not a bag pack by the way. And I'm being too nice that you're now suspicious that I might have developed some sort feeling for you.'

Her face flushed at the truth, but she could not let him agree with her premonitions. It was too embarrassing.

'You have cared for me as an employee and I appreciate it Sir. I simply do not want be leech Sir.'

'What a thoughtful lady you are!' He snapped in frustration. 'Just get to work please. You're not my type.'

Woah! Not his type!? The audacity!

But come to think of it, did she really assume herself his type? His type would be a confident bimbo wholly engulfed in his undeniable charm. But she was an outstandingly reserved young woman with more brains than beauty, quick to fall in love with her crushes, and possesses the ignorance of an infant.

She nodded with a timid defiance, her legs in haste to abandon his intimidating presence. Lord she was ashamed and regretful, having followed him to his studio apartment had wrecked her reputation beyond repair. How she got to the office, she could not remember except the heart wrenching wish to turn back the hands of time, un-embarrass herself and punish Zack for destroying the tiny courage she had mustered after her breakup with Franklin.

'A minute early? You are lucky...'

Marjorie nodded blankly to the very loquacious receptionist, the woman attracted a lot of trouble with her obnoxiousness and Marjorie had enough trouble on her plate for the day. She started head first for Agnes' office, but stopped in her tracks as the receptionist called out to her.

'Come joor, where you dey run go?(Come back, where do you think you are headed)' Her pidgin surprised Marjorie for a minute. 'Agnes is not on sit. There's an urgent meeting in the conference room.' The receptionist informed sweetly, Marjorie could almost see the thread of mischief in her eyes.

'Meeting?' Marjorie asked worriedly, losing a heart beat as it dawned on her that she messed up on her first day. What would Agnes think of her...?

'Ewo you look like a ghost naw. Abeg no faint today again oh.(You look like a ghost. Please do not pass out today again.)You're not late, she's been there since last night.' The receptionist spoke freely in pidgin, compelling Marjorie to feign ignorance and uncomfortably as it seemed she was being implicated by the receptionist, considering the level of formality in CRAWFORD LTD. She was not certain the company allowed a vernacular that was not The Queen's English, and by The Queen she meant Agnes. The staffs were hardly hospitable, their countenance disconcerted Marjorie. Just when she had strolled through the company's gates, the security had questioned her, demanding that she provided an ID Card even though they had seen her the day before. She had tried a monotonous joke about how she did not look like a thief, but they had taken her seriously, calling Zack who confirmed her employment status.

She sighed in relief, allowing her mind to drift into comprehending what the receptionist said and not the vernacular she spoke. First, she ascertained there was no sane reason for Agnes to have subjected herself to a meeting that literally lasted forever, except something grave had happened. Or The receptionist was lying, trying to get her into trouble.

'Sit down, tell me about yourself.' The receptionist hurled at Marjorie, putting her chin in her palm for an interesting gossip.

'Myself? Err I'm not much.' Marjorie replied uncomfortably, averting her gaze to the floor as she took a seat in the same space as she had the day before.

The receptionist hissed in disappointment, shaking her head dramatically with an upturned nose.

'Are you scared of me? Let me tell you something honey, we watch our backs here. I learned you schooled in The United States and with a first class, you even speak plenty of languages. If I were you I'd have looked up a job elsewhere.'

The smooth change in accent and style sent Marjorie off, gained the receptionist a new eye of respect. The lady was in fact talented, maybe a little annoying but definitely talented. She was tempted to ask personal questions about the receptionist, Zack and the real Agnes Crawford, but she held back, knowing it was safer to keep quiet and listen.

'Really, you should not be here. Why did you not try Helvetica Ltd? They seem like a nerd's dream and...'

'But you're here. Don't you think that assumption is far fetched even for you.' Marjorie returned deftly, Impressed by the lady but sensible enough to reprimand her. She had the right to chose what company she worked for, and yes, her intelligence might not be utilized in relation to the position she now occupied, but she assured herself it was worth it. After all she worshiped Agnes, maybe a little disappointed by the woman's age but definitely captivated by her achievements.

The receptionist's jaw dropped, not expecting that sort of attack from the gentle assistant. But she enjoyed a little brawl from her companion, what best way to put the amateur in her place.

'I am Chidera. But call me Dera.'

'I know. I am Marjorie.'

'I know. Welcome to Crawford Ltd. I hope you enjoy your stay.'

What an awkward introduction! Marjorie concluded with a stiff nod to Dera.