First glimpse of Zoë

This is what I wrote for Zoë/Odil last week before I got really sick. I want to bang out the opening scene for the paranormal sometime this week also. It's the rough/first draft, but I like it. It establishes personality, plus, because of her actions, there's the implication change happening. Copywrite of Vanessa Jaye 2004, yaddah, yaddah.

***

“Please use your indoor voice at reception.”

“Indoor voice?” Hands tightly folded in her lap, Zoë stared at Mr. Bing, the office manager, across the width of his desk.

“Yes,” the little bullfrog croaked. “We are not in a stadium, our clients expect discretion and a modicum of class.” His bulbous eyes peered up at her over the rims of his glasses. “Modulate your voice to a proper level.”

Class?

She dug twinned stigmata into her palms with her nails as he glanced down again at the single sheet of paper in front of him.

“Your perfume.”

“It’s Chanel.”

“It’s too strong.”

We can’t have that now, can we? Loud voices, tight skirts, red lipstick. A personality. Another two weeks on this assignment and she’d be lobotomize, badly dressed, and smelly.

Bing checked his watch. “Well, that’s all for now. It’s almost your lunch time, I don’t want to keep you.”

No danger of that. Zoë got up, smoothed the material of her ‘much too short’ skirt and stared down at Mr. Bing from a height of 6’1” —-three of those inches, spiked heels. She gave the little man a little smile, before turning to leave.

“Please close the door behind you.”

She did. Very carefully. Her own watch said 11:57.

At 11:59 she was at her desk, where she retrieved her purse, her ‘maybe you should keep that out of sight’ novel, a half-eaten bag gummy-bears, and her dignity.
At 12:00, on the dot, Zoë Hunter went to lunch.

Permanently.

Cruising up Hwy 400 twenty minutes later, while she couldn’t say she actually regretted her actions, she was having an odd twinge of the Oh shits.