Bitch?

CHARLOTTE

The start of my second day was disastrous since yesterday. Let's recap, I hit the grocery store and there were no chicken nuggets. I went to my apartment and found that there was no power. And this morning when I woke up, I remembered that I had not bought coffee, consequently, today I was also half groggy.

So much so that it took more than 15minutes in front of the building without knowing if he should enter. The money needed it, I have made it more than clear. It's just that I had a feeling that all that paper would go into sessions with some psychologist.

"And tell me ... What has caused all this stress on you?"

"Oh, nothing in particular." It all started since they asked me if I was married.

I took a deep breath and entered the building. The reception was with a couple of people, all elegantly dressed.

-Good Morning! "I wished the receptionist."

-Good Morning! She answered.

I walked to the elevator and pressed the button that called him.

Let's see. Yesterday was an unforgettable day. It's impossible for something like that to happen twice in the same year ... right?

At least it's impossible for it to happen the same week, right?

The elevator doors opened. I walked in and then turned around to look at a man, short and thin, with a bald spot on the top of his head and white hair at the sides, and a face that, I don't know for what reason, reminded me of Mr. Burns.

The elevator doors closed and the large metal box began to climb.

There were several situations that I considered problems. To begin with, she was not a secretary. To the eyes of the world he was a publicist, and to this company he was a double spy.

Snitching on my boss with his fiancée, and lying to my boss's fiancee to cover it up. Can something like that be done?

I only came up with one option to keep my word to both parties.

The elevator doors opened.

And that option was ...

"My God…" I said.

I recall saying that a strange situation could not be repeated twice in the same year.

My boss was sitting on my desk facing the elevator.

"Good morning Charlotte!" "He wanted the eel with legs." "How good that you are." There is a meeting I want you to attend.

Have your bosses ever worn a shirt with Naruto's face at work?

"Take off that jacket and wear this." He let me see a shirt just like his. "I apologize in advance if it falls short." Although I would not be so sorry.

I was not too fanatical to anime, however, I knew a couple of names because, in my adolescence, I dated a man who liked Naruto, rather, he loved Naruto! Since then I have not been able to forget the boy's face blond.

"That won't happen," I spoke as I walked to my desk.

Didn't you know how bad he looked? He was wearing elegant shoes and pants. At least he would have decided on just one style.

"It's a meeting with some Asian investors." What else should I do? He argued.

"Maturing," I advised.

I stood behind my desk and pushed my bag off my back. The riquillo turned around and looked at me.

"Would you have chosen Goku?" -I ask.

Was it serious?

"If I were Asian, I would be offended." I put my bag on the side of the chair. - What specific country are the investors from? "I asked, something told me I should do it."

"From Qatar," he reported.

God, he knew.

—Most of the anime industry is centered in Japan. If I wanted to sympathize dressed like that, I would have made a fool of myself. ”I took a seat and watched him.

He couldn't believe this man was so immature. How could you be hired?

"Are you ... are you otaku?" He questioned.

"I know the world." It's different. ”I looked away.

Actually, there are days when I usually watch some Asian dramas.

And by some days I mean every weekend.

"Are you one of those women who enjoy seeing two men kissing?" His voice sounded rhetorical.

-Do not. —I lied.

I am what people would call, "Fujoshi"

"So… what do people from Qatar usually wear?" He walked over to my desk and put the shirt on the table. "Maybe I should buy a camel?"

This is behind the scenes, right?

Or maybe it was part of a romantic comedy? By God, make an effort more author.

-This is a joke? -Hesitate.

He propped his elbows on the desk, and again, I pushed my chair away so I wouldn't feel his face so close.

"I'm serious ... do you know if they deliver camels to your home?" He smiled.

"Without options to resign", that's what this comedy will be called.

—If you're a publicist, I don't understand why you have to take care of the rela….

—I'm also a public relations officer and a business administrator. He flaunted.

The sound that alerted that someone was about to exit the elevator was heard throughout the floor.

-How old are you? "Curiose."

I didn't know if it was a lie or a truth, but to have more than one title this person had to have been in their forties at least.

"Twenty plus five." He pulled his arms away from the desk and straightened his body.

The elevator doors opened, however, my attention was on the riquillo.

Did you go to college when you were in diapers ...?

"Fredrik!" —It was heard loud. The man who reminded me of Mr. Burns came out of the elevator.

And next to him, mysteriously stood a man with glasses.

I called him Smithers. Why come on! It couldn't be a coincidence.

"What are you doing dressed like that?" He walked over to the riquillo. "Are you looking to bankrupt the company for your stupid things?"

Finally someone agreed with me. Amen!

The person next to the older adult, whom we will call "Smithers," looked at me closely.