On sharks in suits.

Published July 30, 2012 by mandileighbean

I really, really enjoy “True Blood.”  I have yet to read the book series upon which the television show is based.

That’s all; enjoy the prompt. 🙂

 

PROMPT: A young man works his way into an apprenticeship with a slick salesman.

PIECE: Alex looked back at his reflection staring back out at him in the glossy elevator doors.  He exhaled his breath and straightened his tie, which had been a gift from his girlfriend.  His mind drifted back to earlier that morning, when Mallory had stood before him on her bare tip toes.  She had kissed his cheek and buttoned the top button of his expensive shirt.  She had flipped the collar up and roped the tie around his neck.  Alex had made some off-color remark about the fabric feeling more like a noose than a tie.  Mallory had displayed an exaggerated expression of shock and dismay, and had swatted Alex playfully on the shoulder.  “Remember what I told you,” she said.  “If it gets too intense, or if it isn’t absolutely everything that you’ve wanted, cut and run.  No harm, no foul; you deserve to be happy.”  At that sentiment, Alex had cupped Mallory’s perfect face in his undeserving hands and kissed her long and good – mostly, he did this so she would stop talking.  It was unmanly to cry, and he had to be serious for his first day of work with Edgar Steenson.

Edgar Steenson was the man every other guy in a suit wanted to be, and who every woman wanted to have on her arm when she stepped out into public view.  He was the smoothest talker Alex had ever heard; Edgar was the kind of guy who could convince Ryan Seacrest that he needed public speaking lessons, and rumor had it that the movie “Inception” was in fact Edgar’s idea, and that he had come up with it while taking a particularly long shit in Christopher Nolan’s toilet.  Steenson was the stuff of legend, the Gordon Gecko of his time.  Lucky for Alex, he had been chosen to be Edgar’s assistance.  Of course, Alex had jumped at the chance to watch the master in action.  If Alex played his cards right, he could be made partner and never have to really work another blessed day in his life.  He could afford to give Mallory the kind of life she deserved.

Right now though, all the glory seemed incredibly far away and all Alex could focus on was that he suddenly felt as if his stomach were going to drop straight out of his anus.  He kept breathing in deep and exhaling slowly, trying to calm himself and keep himself from imagining the million and one things that could go horribly, terribly wrong.  What if he threw up on Edgar upon meeting him?  What if he broke the copier, or the fax machine?  What if he confused some numbers and ruined the quarter, and sent some very important people to jail?  Every movie he had ever seen depicting these particular kinds of suited sharks in expensive looking glass tanks with leggy secretaries ran through his mind.

Then the elevator doors slid open and outside them, just a step or two beyond the threshold, lay Alex’s future.  Another deep breath and he stepped forward.

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