“How late?”

Hana were both concerned and shaken by Melissa’s sudden (yet justified) agitation. Her friend was in some pickle right now!

Melissa: “I’m supposed to be at work for an hour! Geez, I’m so screwed!”

Hana, trying to help: “There is some rice left over with a natto tray in the fridge, and sesame oil in the cabinet. I will cook a quick breakfast for you!”

Then she went right to the kitchen. Melissa quickly got out of the bed, stepped on a LEGO brick, screamed of pain, calmed down, put her pants on, and went to join her host. As soon as she got off Hana’s room, though, she met with a rather short (yet handsome) iberic-looking man sporting dark curly hair and a one-day beard. He was Andrew, Hana’s roommate.

Andrew: “Hi! You’re Hana’s new friend, right? Nice to meet…”

Melissa, in a hurry: “Hey, sorry to cut you out: I’m in a big hurry so we’ll introduce each other later, OK?”

Andrew, puzzled: “OK, but…”

Melissa, impatient: “But what?”

Andrew, pointing to Melissa’s pelvis: “You put your pants backward.”

A very embarrassed Melissa thanked the man for pointing it out, and pulled off her lower garment to fix the problem. Being a gentleman, Andrew turned to the other side to offer her guest some privacy. Privacy she spent running toward the kitchen, pants in one hand, ending in front of a (yet again) crimson-faced Hana. Realizing the situation, Melissa’s face turned as red as her friend’s, who had just finished cooking. As she sat at the living room’s table, she began to eat her improvised breakfast.

Melissa, to Andrew: “Hey, you’re Hana’s roommate, Andrew, right? Sorry I was rude earlier, I’m just hella late for work and my boss has me in her crosshair so… I’m kinda anxious right now, you see. I’m Melissa, by the way, nice to meet you!

Andrew: “Heh, it’s alright! Nice to meet you as well!”

Melissa, handing her natto container: “You want some?”

Andrew, grossed: “No, thank you. I’m really not a fan.”

As she finished, Melissa rushed to grab her belongings, say goodbye to Hana, and thank her for this very pleasant night. After she left, Andrew couldn’t help but ask Hana about it.

Andrew: “You seem already close. Are you two…”

Hana, coldly: “No, she is not my girlfriend.”

Andrew, put off: “Just asking. Gee, you’re grumpy this morning, Na!”

Hana, feeling sorry: “Please excuse me… This morning was a little bit stressful. But, you know what? I have only one class today, this afternoon so… would you like us to have lunch together before I go to school?”

At this moment, Melissa was rushing to the metro, barely catching the train on line 14, and left it as soon as she arrived at Pyramides. She then rushed to the Opera and stealthily entered a building nearby. As she got in the office, she ran into Pauline who just finished her morning break.

Melissa, relieved: “Pauline, dear… please help me! My phone’s battery is dead and I have no charger with me. Can I borrow yours please?”

Pauline, surprised: “Hey Meli, no problem! I’ll lend it to you in a minute! Just, don’t let Rosenthal catch you: she noticed you weren’t here and she’s def mad at you!”

Yet, a mere second later, a powerful voice could be heard saying “DiMaggio! Luong! What are you doing here? Get back to work!”

Rosenthal spotted them. As disliked as she was among the editorial staff, Arlette Rosenthal rose to her current position through hard work and dedication. In her mid 40’s, she was a beautiful blonde, looking strict but gifted with a soft jawline, piercing blue eyes, and a slim figure. Even Melissa once admitted she would have hit on her sooner if she wasn’t “such a piece of rotten turd” (her words).

Rosenthal, angry: “What are you waiting for, Luong? We don’t pay you to loiter around…!”

Pauline, submissive: “Yes, Ms Rosenthal. I’m sorry, Ms Rosenthal.”

Melissa, giving attitude: “Well, maybe I ought to get back at work, Ms Rosenthal. See ya at lunch break, milady!

Rosenthal: “Not so fast, DiMaggio. You, me, in my office.”

Maybe that was for the best. At least, Melissa wouldn’t have to bear the public humiliation of being fired in front of everybody. Arriving at Rosenthal’s office, they both sat at her desk.

Rosenthal, softly: “DiMaggio… Do you even know why you still work here, to begin with?”

Melissa, with some bravado: “Because I’m gay, therefore a protected minority?”

Rosenthal: “I couldn’t care less about your private life, DiMaggio. To be honest, you still work among us in spite of your unprofessional attitude, your arrogance toward your managers, and your lack of motivation, because you’re one of the best columnists this magazine ever had. Your articles are the most read on our web publication, and the sales of our printed edition have skyrocketed since you joined our team. And, I got to admit, your modeling gig provided us with some of the best covers for our magazine. You know, DiMaggio, if you were just a tad more serious about your work, you would have climbed the corporate ladder even faster than I did; but with your current behaviour, you are this close to being fired. Do you understand?”

Melissa, barely paying attention: “Yeah… I understand, Ms Rosenthal.”

Rosenthal: “Well, you are dismissed then. Get to your work, and don’t add being this late to your long list of bad habits.”

Melissa was already fed up. But, between her late coming and Rosenthal’s scolding, she was close to lunch break anyway.

Rosenthal, across the office: “Of course, no lunch break for you, DiMaggio. Unless you want to leave work late to get back the hours you missed this morning?”

Melissa: “It’s OK, Ms Rosenthal. I will work on my lunch time. [to herself] Fucking hag!”

Pauline, sitting aside with her laptop: “As promised, my charger! Do you mind if I sit here?”

Melissa, smiling: “Thank you, hon. You’re a real life saver! Please feel free to sit with me!”

Pauline: “So… How come you were this late today? I mean, you live 10 minutes at foot from here!”

Melissa, embarrassed: “Well… I mean…”

Pauline: “Let me guess: you had yet another hookup with a pretty lady and you spent the night doing a lot of…”

Melissa, alerted: “No! I’m not getting laid all the time, with every girl I meet, you know!”

Pauline, playing smart: “Hah! So, you were with a girl! Give me the tea, Meli!”

Melissa, outsmarted: “Fine… You know, this shop I visited the other day? The one I’m currently writing about?”

Pauline: “Yeah…?”

Melissa: “Well, I befriended the clerk and, yesterday, we spent the night together.”

Pauline, amused: “Meli, you flirt!”

Melissa, jaded: “No, we didn’t do anything! I mean… we were watching a movie and… well, I fell asleep in the middle, with no battery left in my phone.”

Pauline, bursting out of laughter: “Hwahahahaha!!! That’s so lame, Meli~!”

Rosenthal, across the office: “Luong, no lollygagging!”

Pauline, likewise: “It’s OK, Ms Rosenthal: Melissa and I are working together on our articles! [to Melissa] Oh, by the way: I’ll stay with you during my lunch break. You won’t stay alone, sister! [wink]”

Melissa: “Thank you, Pauline. I really appreciate that.”

The atmosphere quickly became quieter by then. Melissa and Pauline helped each other and exchanged gossip along the way. Melissa was amazed about how close they quickly became. Lunch break came fast and, as promised, Pauline stayed with her during that time. Since the office were empty (save for them), they could share lunch and chat freely during that time, in front of their respective computers.

Melissa: “Pauline…? Can I ask you something?”

Pauline: “Of course you can!”

Melissa: “Thanks…! It’s quite delicate to ask so… well, let’s go: when we had our hook-up, did you feel fetichized because you’re Vietnamese?”

Pauline, surprised: “What?! No, of course not! Why are you even asking?”

Melissa, embarrassed: “Well, you see, my best friend is also Vietnamese. (Actually, she’s half-Vietnamese but you get it). Anyway, she often teases me about my partners, saying I only date Asian girls. But lately, it didn’t feel like her usual banter… like she was blaming me for it.”

Pauline: “Dear, that’s ridiculous of her to say such things. Do you know what fetichizing someone really means? A fetish, it’s like this fucker who dated me because he wanted a submissive and kinky girl (his words, not mine), then was disappointed I’m spring roll Asian and not kimchi Asian, sushi Asian, or hotpot Asian (again, his words), but kept me because (I think you got it) my eyes are slanted enough, and asked me to wear this stupid anime schoolgirl cosplay during the thing. And he could barely remember my name, asking what my real name was. Do you believe it? That, my girl, is a fetish.”

Melissa, baffled: “Wow, rough… what a douche!”

Pauline, carried away: “You, on the other hand, have been nothing but nice and respectful toward me. You treated me like a princess, more than any man had done. And, for once, I could actually get off in bed. So, you have a type; big deal. You’re still the best date I’ve had in my entire life, and made me feel seen and cared about. So, you know what? Screw her if she can’t deal with your taste in women!”

Melissa, reassured: “Thank you, Pauline… You’re a real friend!”

Pauline: “Heh, don’t sweat it, girl.”

The afternoon then went even quicker, with Melissa and Pauline (seemingly) working on their articles while chatting without their boss noticing. Eventually, their work day ended and, as Melissa was packing her stuff and handing back her friend’s charger, one of their coworkers named Sylvie went to warn her about something.

Sylvie, flatly: “Melissa? There are three girls waiting for you outside the office. Maybe some of your scores, I suppose.”

Melissa, puzzled: “Hmm? What do they look like?”

Sylvie: “There’s a tall girl with a big bun on her head and big breasts like yours, a small girl with long black hair, and a medium-sized girl with a funny look (like a punk coming out of some manga).”

She had no doubt: it was them. But, why did they visit Melissa at her workplace…?