logged on to Channel 50’s social media and cued up the morning newscast. She smirked when Griffin gave a report on last night’s vigilante activity.
“Several dogs were recovered from the neighborhood and remanded to the Harrisburg Humane Society,” Griffin told the camera in his modulated anchorman voice. “Meanwhile, police are asking anyone with information on the situation to contact them. Over to the beautiful Bella Goodshine for the weather.”
Riley rolled her eyes.
The camera cut to the future Mrs. Gentry, who was poured into a baby pink dress with a deep scoop neck. She was holding a fluffy white dog that looked as though it were about to drown in the woman’s abundant cleavage. There was something vaguely familiar about the dog, and Riley realized it was one of the ones that had sprinted past her in the alley last night.
“Thank you, sweetie pie,” she chirped. “If anyone is ready to open their homes to a rescue dog, the Humane Society needs your help. Isn’t that right, baby?” she crooned to the dog.
Riley could hear the mid-state audience swooning at the adorableness and tried not to barf in her desk drawer.
“Help me! Help me!” Bella squeaked, waving the dog’s front paw. “Pwease adopt me, Gwiffin!”
Riley choked on her lukewarm coffee. If there was one thing Griffin Gentry hated more than running out of his favorite bronzer, it was dogs. All dogs. He hated dog hair and dog poop. He couldn’t stand barking. Or the smell of puppy breath. The man had once screamed at an entire litter of golden retriever puppies to “Quit whining!” when the sound woman kept picking them up on the audio playback.
They’d all had to pretend it was a joke to smooth things over with the rescue.
“Does Gwiffin want to bwing me home?” Bella baby-talked, waving puppy paws in the man’s direction.
He laughed nervously when the camera swung back in his direction. Riley noted the sheen of sweat popping up on his forehead, making his foundation run. “Ha ha! We’ll have to discuss that later,” he said with a forced smile.
“Oh, but don’t you want to be my daddy?” Bella approached, holding the dog out at arm’s length. At this point, Riley wasn’t sure if Bella was asking that question as the dog or as herself.
“Looks like the Channel 50 family is getting bigger, folks,” Griffin’s co-anchor announced.
Griffin looked like he was going to vomit when Bella held the dog up to his face. He scooted his chair back from the desk. The video ended abruptly, and Riley imagined it was because he’d toppled over backward.
She was feeling pretty damn entertained. Until she looked at the stack of job jackets on her desk. God, this job sucked.
Maybe it was the moonlighting or playing fake fiancée or her latest stint as a getaway driver, but SHART had gone from sufferable to soul-destroying.
The clock on the wall behind her ticked interminably toward noon. Her cubicle mate was awake now and snorting at the YouTube video of bikinied blondes on trampolines. Two supervisors walked by discussing the afternoon staff meeting.
The intercom system clicked on. “Whoever thinks it’s acceptable to turn your timesheet in with illegible handwriting will not be paid for hours that can’t be read,” Jan from accounting announced. Jan was the kind of person you invited to a party if you wanted it to break up early.
Once again, the intercom system beeped. “If someone has a problem with their reading comprehension, perhaps they should personally seek out the employee and ask the question rather than publicly shaming them.” It was the fresh-out-of-college vegetarian social justice warrior in project management. Jan was probably going to dock his pay now, Riley thought.
She was surrounded by miserable, bored people. And it was sucking the life out of her.
She still had over an hour before lunch, and she felt like there was a good chance she might die if she waited that long. Especially if she dug into the stack of work that included such exciting projects as a bank’s annual report and seven ads for a sleazebag used car dealer whose wife just demanded bigger breast implants.
Hmm. Maybe she could take a few minutes and practice some of her psychic stuff?
She glanced around, making sure no one was paying attention to her, before stuffing earbuds in her ears. She cued up one of Wander’s soothing meditation mixes and closed her eyes.
It took her a few tries before she swooped into the cotton candy cloud place. But she made it and all