7
Chelle
Janette’s been in the conference room with the potential clients—the skateboarding stars from the group Skate 32—all afternoon.
I thought they’d be younger for some reason. I guess because she described them that way. But they’re more of that Peter Pan, won’t grow up, type. Like pushing thirty but still dressing and acting like they’re sixteen. I saw no signs of professionalism or business-sense from them when I brought in drinks and snacks.
But I guess that’s why they need us.
It’s close to five when Janette shows up at my desk. She appears pale and sweaty, which makes me stand to meet her, worried something has gone wrong.
“Oh my God, I think I ate something bad for lunch,” she says. “I just puked my guts out in the bathroom—sorry for the TMI. Listen, I need to get home. I
