After writing about ten pages of total crap, I decided to delete it all and write something better :) So please, my polyvore friends, do read my story.
Dammit, I hated stilettos. This was my third time tripping today. You’d think that after five days of wearing nothing but stilettos, you would be able to successfully walk in them without falling, but apparently not. What was worse than the pain from falling, however, was enduring the mocking glances from the other staff at Brenner Records. Either they were stupid and thought I didn’t notice when they exchanged oh-my-god-she’s-such-a-loser looks and snickers, or they wanted it to be publicly known that they disliked me greatly. At the head of this anti-Faith movement was the receptionist from the day I interviewed, whom I had learned was named Whitney. From the many times I had seen her since that day, I had come to the conclusion that she was still reeling over the scandal that I had been appointed as Miss Brenner’s personal assistant. If I hadn’t been so bothered by the staff’s obvious loathing of me, I would have enjoyed the way she stared at me with jealously shining in her eyes. She had scoffed at me the day I came in, yet here I stood, her superior.
“Fall down again, Faith?” called my new boss, who was amused yet slightly annoyed by my blunders.
I nodded, and grimaced when the side of my head began to throb from the impact of the fall.
She reached out her hand and I took it gladly, though my face was red. I blew a strand of hair out of my face, and wiped off my skirt. Miss Brenner glared at a pair of curly-haired girls who had been giggling, and they stopped dead in their tracks when they caught Miss Brenner’s menacing gaze.
“Excuse me ladies, but don’t you have work to attend to?”
They looked at each other as if to say, “Crap, what do we do now?”
“Yes, Miss Brenner,” they replied in unison, walking away as fast as possible without breaking into a sprint.
“Thanks Miss Brenner, I appreciate that,” I murmured.
“You’re welcome, and for god’s sake, call me Amy, I’m only 25 and you’re making me feel 40.”
“Oh…um, thanks Amy.”
The worst of these falling incidents had happened in the presence of Skylar, the world-renowned songstress whose meteoric rise to fame was mostly due to her breathtaking beauty and sweet, melodic voice. You could tell she was a superstar by the fact that she only had to go by her first name, similar to Madonna. While Miss Bren…while Amy was listening to the demo for one of her new songs, a picture taken at the Grammy’s one year caught my eye, and I simply had to reach for it, which twisted my feet and caused my entire body to go plummeting down to the cold wooden floor. The group of people gathered around Skylar all turned to investigate the noise, and they roared with laughter when their eyes fell upon my body lying twisted and awkward on the floor. Skylar herself held her hand over her mouth, and her face was contorted, as if she were trying to hold back laughter. She did show me sympathy, however, as we were walking out of the room, she smiled apologetically, and waved goodbye.
Remembering this event that had been so heavily barred and chained within the very deepest recesses of my mind, I felt infinitely better about my most recent tumble. I took a sip of my coffee, and hobbled behind Amy, trying my hardest too keep up with her while managing not to fall flat on my face again.
Please excuse the terrible boringness of these few chapters, I will get to the good stuff soon :)