Sheryl’s Daily Prompt
Francesca Moresco, aged 29, daughter of Harold and Denise Moresco, stood in line in front of the coffee vendor at precisely 8:25 somewhat impatiently. It was understandable as a cold front had moved in dropping temperatures to just above freezing. Hopping from foot to foot awaiting her turn for that first cup of what could only be considered the elixir of life, she thought, ‘Damn, but it was cold!’ while giving her hands another rub together.
She watched little puffs of breath emitting from the others standing beside her. Everyone looked equally uncomfortable while peering back and forth systematically craning their neck to see who was next in line and how much longer they’d have to wait before they could grab a coffee and leave. Some were either too impatient or too cold to wait and threw their hands in the air and did left. She couldn’t blame them.
Francesca wasn’t about to leave, this was the best coffee the town had to offer and it was worth the wait. Besides, office coffee was unthinkable. It was usually burned, smelled acrid and tasted like you’d imagine tar tasted. She shivered thinking of the eventuality.
Justin Fairbanks hustled up beside her, startling her as he skidded to a halt bumping into her shoulder. “Sorry.” Noting the frowning faces scowling at the newcomer and obvious interloper, he added loudly, “I know, I’m late again. I apologize, thanks for holding the line for me.”
Francesca stared at him in disbelief, pulling her scarf up to cover her now freezing cheeks and whispered, “I should tell you to get lost you know that! These people have been waiting for as long as I have.”
Looking affronted he quickly whispered back, “As have I, just in a different location. I was traveling, on the subway.”
“Yes, well I doubt they’d care about that. You were inside and warmer than they have been.”
“Listen, after being such a good sport, I’ll gladly pay for your coffee. It’s the least I can do.” Francesca hid her smile behind her wooly scarf.
“See that you do.”
“I see, that’s how it is is it? A touch of blackmail in the works? My my you are a dark horse, wouldn’t have thought you had it in you.”
“You’d be surprised!” she chirped in a merry voice.
“So what has you so chipper today, considering we’re standing in a frozen oasis?”
“Nothing in particular. Just life!”
They had worked in the same office for two years and Francesca couldn’t recall more than a couple of occasions in which they’d shared more than a couple of words together; this was certainly a president.
“Your working on the Admiral account aren’t you?”
Peering up into his handsome face with those sparkling blue eyes looking intently down at her as they inched forward in line, she said, “I am. Why do you mention it?”
“Because I wanted to give you a heads up. George spoke with me yesterday and said he wants to bring me in on it. I’m not entirely sure why. I know your rep. Your pretty spectacular and your ad campaigns have garnered acclaim not only from the powers that be, but from everyone in the industry. Trust me on this, your name comes up regularly.”
“I can’t say I’m not flattered by that, but I’m more curious about what George’s end goal is here. You are in men’s wear, athletics, and I typically handle high end apparel and jewels for women. I don’t see the two crossing anywhere, unless they’re thinking of bringing out some unisex items.”
“Oh God, for the most part, I’d say don’t go down that road but it’s a distinct possibility since he’s asked me to venture into the campaign. Although some of the directions fashion for men is heading leaves me cold.”
Francesca couldn’t help but laugh, “I know what you mean. It’s pretty ghastly. The vast majority of men would rather walk naked through a burning desert than wear some of the stuff out there.”
“Might be a tad uncomfortable, but count me in. I like my jeans and tees. I’m a creature of comfort. I wear suits all week and unless the occasion calls for it, I would rather be comfortable. Of course I have to be careful who I say that too considering where I work, but never-the-less, I would rather be comfortable unless the occasion calls for something dressy.”
“There’s to be a meeting at nine fifteen precisely, or so I was told.” He looked slightly uncomfortable at the possibility she hadn’t been told.
“Yes, the regular meeting for any new account has a set time and schedule,” she said thoughtfully noting his discomfort, “it’s usual, nothing out of the ordinary.”
“I have been asking discreetly (of course) around town for clues as to what might be happening but so far, nothing…I’m at a complete loss. I hate being in the dark, I prefer being in the know, I hate being side-swiped.”
“I know what you mean. I can’t count the amount of times that occurrence has created severe issues.”
“I hope you and I can partner up on this. That way, there will be less surprises don’t you think?”