Number 22 (2)

The receptionists rose to their full attention, in a respective stance, with welcoming smiles and stopped their gossip discussions when they heard the determined click-clack sound from a woman's heels on the polished floor approaching them. The woman who came into view was a tall blond with a model-like figure.

She was drawing a small pink suitcase along behind her as she drew close to them. In as much as she looked beautiful in her business skirt-suit, she spelt trouble even before she got to the receptionists because of her entitled and arrogant look. The suit was the same colour as her suitcase. The skirt was so short that it barely covered her butt, and the top had enough cleavage showing to leave little to one's imagination, but she still looked chic and professional notwithstanding this.

This was not an unusual sight as different such girls came through the reception to see their boss on different occasions, but they were surprised on this day mainly because of the subject they had been discussing barely seconds prior.

Wasn't their boss married? Why was this one there?' they all wondered while one of the secretaries who had thought the Reveal show had got it wrong gloated secretly.

That underlying excitement and buzz, when they had heard of the marriage, started to die down, especially when their new visitor made her request known.

"I want to see Jorge!" the shrill melodic voice of the lady was heard,

The receptionist serving her winced but quickly composed her face,

"Jorge?" she inquired the lady. In as much as the receptionist was at least 70% positive of the person she was referring to, she tried not to make any assumptions, for Trimshaw Industries housed thousands of employees, and the headquarters had about half of that populace going in and out each day so for their visitor to ask of 'Jorge' or 'George' or even 'Jurge' was a little too broad for her to fathom primarily because of the woman's thick accent.

"Don't you know your own CEO?! I want to see Jorge now!" the woman almost whined.

"Just a quick moment, ma'am; I'll check the system for your appointment if you can let me know your name,"

"Ma'am! Did you just call me ma'am?! Do I look like a ma'am to you? I am a YOUNG LADY in her prime! And you dare call me ma'am?!! Who trained you? And why are you giving such a shitty service?!"

The receptionist looked on helplessly, and as if on cue, one of her colleagues tapped her on the shoulder and swapped places with her,

The new receptionist began with an even wider smile, "I am very sorry, my beautiful young lady. I also apologise for that. Can you give me your name or identity card so that I can assist you?"

The woman seemed to calm down a bit after this and thumped her ID on the counter in front of her. After a quick stroke on the keyboard, her name was not found, but the secretary made a quick call to the office of Mr Trimshaw. After listening in for a bit, she gave the young woman a visitor's badge.

"Welcome, Miss Rachael Thompson, once again, to Trimshaw Industries. If yo-"

Before the receptionist could finish her instructions, the lady had already left and was heading towards the elevators.

With her mouth hanging open, she uttered slowly, "Well, I wish her the best of luck!" This had the others burst out laughing, for they kind of surmised what might happen later on.

***

In Jorge Trimshaw's secretarial office on the highest floor of the Trimshaw's industries, his personal assistant and right-hand man, known as Ryan Marvel, had a pensive look on his face after giving the authorisation to let the woman up from the reception. Ryan was one that could easily blend into a crowd because of his ordinary looks; short black hair and brown eyes.

The only thing unique about him was his glasses. He always had these business-like glasses on. Ryan was very timely and diligent in all he did, and Jorge trusted his direction because he had recruited him personally among thousands of applicants and had personally groomed him. Even though Ryan had grown up alongside him in a way and so, he could be considered a childhood friend of a sort as they attended the same high school. Never too close, in any case.

Ryan hung up the phone and then knocked on an adjacent door. He waited for the briefest of moments before he entered.

Jorge was seated in his chair and on the phone. Jorge's office was surprisingly very 'bare' for someone of his calibre. It was a large room with high ceilings, but apart from the enormous desk in the middle of the room made of 'Macassar ebony' and leather, the office desk looked like two large drawer cabinets with a white slab on top of it. It was placed on a floor zebra-like rug.

The whole office was a monochrome-like greyscale colour of only black and white. Stepping into the office was like stepping into a different world of a black-and-white movie. Everything there was like this, as was his wearing a totally black suit and a black silk shirt underneath. The only 'decorative' element on his person was a 'JT' stitch engraved fancily on the tip of his sleeve. This was a big contrast to his personal image and fancy personality as was known to the world.

"Send them to the urban residence," Jorge said curtly on the phone and hung up.

He raised his head to Ryan and waited for him to speak.

"You are mostly done for the day today, and there are no other meetings -" Jorge got up from his seat and straightened his suit, but Ryan's slight pause made him raise one eyebrow as he knew what that indicated.

"I just slotted a last-minute rendezvous for you. I mean, you have a last minute 'meeting' with Ms Rachael Thompson…."

"Who is she?" Jorge asked with a genuinely puzzled look on his face,

"She is number twenty-two," Ryan said, almost helplessly, as he was used to such questions.

"Oh," was all Jorge uttered.

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