The Billionaire's Pollyanna |2024 ONC|

1-Memorable First Impressions

❀ KATERINA ❀

"Oh look, foreskin's making an appearance today."

Jumping back in my chair, my face scrunches when I'm hit with a spray of liquid.

"¡Maldita sea!" I curse, throwing a glare at my sister, who's failing at catching the water dribbling from her mouth.

"Don't look at me like that. You made me do it!" Janelle mutters. We each grab at the extra napkins on the break room table and begin dabbing at our faces and blouses. I take my glasses off to wipe them clean.

"You should know everyone's name by now—" She wipes at the table in quick motions, efficient and precise as usual. Always prim and proper. The ideal executive assistant. "Instead of calling coworkers by the ridiculous nicknames you use."

"I like the nicknames." Junior winks at me as he chugs his diet soda. He took me under his wing when I first started as a fellow "grunt" three months ago and we became quick friends. Janelle likes to say we'd get more work done if we spent less time being chismosos, like a couple of old ladies gossiping.

"It makes it easier to talk shit without people knowing who we are talking about," he adds. My sister's unamused expression doesn't stop him from grinning at her.

She looks over her shoulder at the particular coworker I pointed out earlier. "Why do you call Malcolm foreskin, though?"

"We thought of others. Pothole-cause everyone avoids him, Blister-shows up after the work is done." Junior lists off the others names we debated over.

"You're going to get in trouble if someone hears you use that one." Janelle widens her eyes without saying the name. "It's completely inappropriate."

I share a look with Junior. "No, not really. Think about it, what happens to foreskin during...you know."

Junior holds my arm, leaning in. "Wait, maybe she's never seen a hooded warrior."

Turning back to Janelle, her eyes shift between us, her eyebrows lifting expectantly as she waits impatiently. Hmm, it looks like Junior's right. While we're sisters, there are some things we never talk about. Like sex.

"Basically it retracts—disappears so to speak, when things get...hard. And Malcolm conveniently disappears when the workload gets hard around here." My shoulders lift in a shrug. "So, there you go."

"Still inappropriate." Janelle sniffs, straightening her posture. "And gross." Her phone chimes and she manages to sit even more upright in her chair. "Gotta run. Mr. Solano is going to a conference this weekend and I was just reminded to finalize his itinerary." She rushes out of the break room without a word.

"The wait has been killing me. You can't leave me hanging after showing me this morning's text from your dapper motherfucker, but since we're alone now, spill the tea, sis. What's the latest?" Junior pushes his food away, resting an elbow on the table facing me.

I appreciate his discretion when it comes to my part-time gig. I'm not ashamed of it per se, but dealing with my uptight sister's judgment would just add to my list of problems. It's not like I plan on doing it forever, but the extra money is a necessity, and I'm hoping it will give me the jumpstart I need to pay off some of my outstanding debt.

Though I dance as entertainment, I'm fully clothed—mostly. But the best part is the club's encouragement of using props or accessories to change my entire look, not just with the outfits, but with masks, wigs, and contacts. While Vegas is a big city, I'm not taking any chances of running into anyone I know.