shortiewritestories

[shortiewritestories]

The Desk

Chapter One:

Rolling Mile was a high end luxury apartment community. The management company under ownership was a competitive, corporate real estate behemoth with gold standard employment requirements that she no doubt met and superseded. The money was great and responsibility low maintenance; a perfect combination. After the pandemic hit, late nights as a bottle girl hustling big wigs in the likes of men who probably owned the building she worked in, wasn’t an option. School became less and less affordable with no job prospects and she needed a buffer between dreams and maintaining sustenance, using the skillset she had. 

It was 12 floors with 313 units largely encased in glass. There were several community amenities not limited to the gym, a pet spa and various conference rooms among other places for people to gather, designed equitably throughout the structure. The seating areas were fashioned like enormous living rooms. The first floor for instance, covered almost 3,500 feet of ground and it was modeled with eight different sitting nooks for groups of up to 6 people; each cordoned off with respectable degrees of separation. 

There was a grand fireplace as the focal point of the center most ‘living room’  — one of the building’s many design signatures — cascading bookcases clad with literature on modern art, classical period pieces and adorning sculptures. Televisions were mounted here and there and ambient music sung gently from every corner bringing the rooms together. There was even a signature fragrance decanted through oil rods in vases strategically placed on the shelves or tucked in crannies and various surfaces. 

The lighting fixtures were also calculated to a science; whether ornate floating installations that hovered over couches or inset ones that showcased the gorgeous local art, hand picked to accompany the decor. Everything was placed meticulously to feel like home. A very personal, on- trend, home with stunning architecture, and atmosphere equally so. 

Part of the overnight swing was to walk the property for quality assurance . Jada would visit the Penthouse to see that residents were respecting the closing hours , fluff a few pillows and rearrange a book or two if needed. She’d leave the penthouse and walk out to the adjoining rooftop to check for minor trash articles or displaced furniture and about face when finished. 

Leasing consultants and maintenance modeled specific units for showings to prospective residents as well. On different floors varying in size and plan, each model boasted a different view of the city or faced inward to the courtyard. One of her responsibilities was to go in and turn off the lights and music. The models had Alexa interfaces set to play jazz mixes. Some had automatic lighting sensors that worked in tandem with the music players and they activated upon entry. A damn well executed marketing strategy for sure.

Some nights, Jada would take a few extra minutes turning the lights down to daydream about what it would be like to have that kind of luxury at her disposal. Running her fingertips across the granite countertops, she’d imagine preparing meals on them. What it would be like to sleep in the West Elm decorated bedrooms, or adorn herself in the giant bathtub and step out onto the heated slate floors. A time or two she even stood in the floor to ceiling living room window overlooking the city on the 6th floor and imagined what it was like to be fucked in it. Every night after those few extra minutes, she’d back out of each apartment with lustful eyes, take a deep breath and flip the switch on exhale before locking up. 

As winter danced in and out of spring with fickle city winds, traffic in the building fluttered into busy, and Jada began showing up earlier to work. It helped ease transitions between herself and the 3–11 eleven person, Steph. Steph was real cool. The two of them played a respectful game of cat and mouse where they gently insulted each other and between talking shift specifics. It was the right amount of whit and whip and the tiny daggers of sarcasm made them grow more fond of each other the more tongue-in-cheek it became. Jada was a verbal sparring aficionado so this was hardly a sport she lacked coordination in. 

Steph: “Okay, so 3101 has a grocery delivery in cold storage but I’m not sure when they’ll pick it up. She’s not due back in town ‘till next week. ” 

Jada: “Her partner could be coming to pick up for her?”

Steph: “What partner? Well, she does have a room mate so that’s kind of a good point. Just keep an eye out for her — or an imaginary boyfriend.” 

Steph scoffed a little at the suggestion of a significant other and chucked between clarifying. She was a daytime concierge and had quite a report with most of the residents. As a result, she knew a lot about their personal lives and cracked openly on their despair. It was hilarious. 

Steph: “Use the ‘Housekeeping’ key to let Maribel in around 6 a.m. She’s cleaning for Antonio in 2212 — scheduled and on the guest list, so just have her flash her badge to confirm. And last thing. You may have to go up and chase these idiots out of the penthouse.” She spoke in short bursts, checking each item off the list in her mind and motioned to the camera screen for emphasis on the ‘idiots’.

Almost every inch of the building was under 24-hour camera scrutiny. This included the pool, courtyard, all three levels of parking, the package room and the perimeter streets. Only the elevators, model units and residential floors were not. To counter those areas, there was the fob system. All residents and staff had their own electromagnetic key fobs that recorded their movements and could be remotely tracked from any point of entry. The system could also allow or deny access anywhere it was programmed to at specific times and dates. People with disposable income needed more supervision than anyone else.

 Steph specified who and where by using her whole body to show Jada. She leaned in over her, reached across to the mouse and circled the penthouse panel on the surveillance monitor. Jada was sitting in the rolling chair, watching the pacing of Steph’s body language like it was trying to tell her something.

Jada: Aight cool, that’s pretty mild compared to last week; Your girl Alice tried to have a lil “private party” with uhh — weird tattooed baseball guy she’s been seeing?” She squinted and pointed at Steph to confirm if she knew the character. Steph nodded rolling her eyes. “ Penthouse. Kitchen counter. All her glory to be seen.”

Steph: “ You were prolly into watching too, you creep!” She flicked her tongue out to imitate sloppy cunnilingus and Jada winced into a giggle.

Jada: “Bruh HELL no! I literally had to beg her not to have sex with a stranger, on a surface that literally everyone in this building has eaten off of! Over here tryna appeal to some type of logic save her lil cooch.” 

Steph: “ Not the Iyanla of white pussy! But whole time if it was me, you would have watched for sure,” she said with a serious grin in her teeth.

Jada: “Umm, HR?!” she fired back looking around, picking up an imaginary phone fashioned out of her thumb and pinky with fake fear in her eyes for added drama. 

They both laughed form in their belly buttons until a group of guests strolled in. Choking on silliness, they waved and exchanged ‘good evenings’ before chuckling into their elbows and pretending to be unnoticed as the people got to the elevator. 

Jada: “Aight aight aight,” she tried to straighten up. “Get out of here and let me do my lil job before you get me in trouble. 

Steph: “ I am trouble, you tryna get into me.” she said over her shoulder, batting her eyelashes; coat and purse in one hand, car keys in the other. 

Jada: Oh my god, goodnight Steph! Drive safe.” 

Steph cocked her head back and smiled, chucking a deuce on her way to the garage. Jada always guessed that there was some truth to her playful innuendos but never thought of testing the water on that theory. The diet co-worker flirt was an okay box to keep it in for her. 

Plenty of people came and went without speaking. Some of the residents would give that faint nod, others forced a smile under their masks and put a kick in their step to avoid conversation. Then there were the ones who refrained from acknowledging anyone else’s existence all together. Those were the extra special ones. It was like it pained them to wave or wink or grin — Small talk be damned. 

There were also of course, the ones who liked to talk too much. Like Derrick. It was never clear if he was bored, flirting, or genuinely enjoyed water-cooler-type banter. He would stop by occasionally to kick the can and talk about the weather or ask Jada how she was doing. While he did a good job of personalizing the exchange, she could tell he had a different version of the same script for every concierge person. There were three shifts a day and the seat warmers varied with each, but the script rolled off of his tongue with a consistency that made a girl think, “does he practice this shit?” His ‘nice guy’ demeanor earning him the illustrious title of, ‘Mayor of the Mile’.

The Mayor. He really was respectable. He always seemed to notice subtle changes to her hairstyle or nail color, adding more points to the Nice Guy quotient. There was even a night where in passing, Jada complained of a migraine and he came back a few minutes later with snacks and aspirin. Jada had a uniquely classic style with a street edge that was apparent even through the business professional dress code. Her nails were the low hanging fruit of all there was to notice about her and she wasn’t hard to compliment. 

Derrick certainly wasn’t hard to look at in that respect either. He was a chiseled, deep-toffee colored man who laughed a lot when he spoke. It drew whoever he was talking to in and made him that much more approachable. Sometimes his smile would be too much for his mask to handle and he would occasionally readjust, pulling it down between phrases to get the giggle out and replace it after. His teeth, the color of ivory, displayed a a stately gap in the center. They framed the shape of his face and complimented his shiny bald head in the best way.

Derrick had an extremely bubbly personality. It animated him, contrasting his frame to how solid his build was. He had mentioned once that he was a student athlete who played soccer in school and it was clear that he still worked to maintain a toned, conditioned physique. An avid user of the 24hr gym and in true working professional form, never a minute later than 5a.m. in his practice. All things considered, he was still mildly forgettable. The ‘nice’ ones usually are. Either way,they didn’t see much of each other. Jada worked the graveyard shift and it was sure to keep their ships passing with the exception of an occasional night out, or if he was entertaining at home. Each instance a rare moon.