2: She Wears Prada.

Monday, a year after moving to The Wayne's Central…

Amelia pulled down the mirror and reapplied her lipstick which was a bold shade of bloody red. Then she smacked her lips, smirked at herself, and returned the lipstick to her bag before pulling out her shades. Her curly hair was pulled into a long bushy ponytail that was formed by a collection of several smaller tails, slicked down from the edges to the back. 

From behind the windshield of her Bentley, Amelia watched Cameron, the six-month-old security guard flirt with her employee who was responding with stupid grins.  Then she watched him bring out his phone with that face that men have whenever they wanna collect a girl's number and that's when she decided to step out. 

First, her left foot to make sure she planted her three-inch heels firmly on the floor before getting the rest of her body out, grabbing her handbag along. With a force released on purpose, her car door shut closed with a quick attention-seeking slam. 

Cameron and the employee jumped instantly, the phone tumbling out of his hands as his pale potato-looking face turned red. As she adjusted her well-placed Prada belt that held her white Prada power suit in place, she turned her attention to the employee who was having a hard time deciding whether to go past the door into the company or stay rooted at the spot. She looked like she had been caught red-handed with her hand in Amelia's safe because her expression was too ghastly for a cookie jar.

Amelia hated loitering. Her employees knew it and have seen her fire someone for it. When it's time for work you work, you don't waste time on stupid things like falling for a man's antics and the employee knew that well enough for her to start apologizing as soon as Amelia was within hearing distance.

"Miss Bronte, I-im so s-sorry. I-i didn't mean t-to… I j-just arrived and then Cameron was–"

"Me?" The security guard interjected immediately, eyes bulging out in fake surprise like he wasn't involved. His face turned ashen like he had been accused falsely when the poor lady had not even said anything.

The employee turned her head snappily towards him wanting to retort something but turned back to face Amelia.

She swallowed, beads of perspiration starting to decorate her already shiny forehead. "M-miss Bronte, l-like I-i said ma'am, I was just arriving and then… I-i I am s-sorry…"

Another thing she hated. Wasted speech AKA rambling. Why doesn't she just take a moment to breathe and produce meaningful words like an intelligent human being? Talking aimlessly with incoherent words was never beneficial, it made one seem awkward and dumb. 

"...but then I–"

"Ms. Tracy!" Amelia cut the nervous employee short, reading her name from the ID hanging by a rope around her neck. Her voice was of a medium octave but commandeering enough for Miss Tracy to seal her lips instantly.

"You're wasting time."

Tracy nodded in agreement even if she was still confused as to what to do.

"You should be in there working right?" Amelia angled her chin an authoritative inch.

Tracy's mouth fell open. "Ah! Yes ma'am. Yes!" She nodded, turned around swiftly and walked into the building, the automated doors opening and closing with a soft click behind her.

Now, him.

She redirected her gaze towards the security guard who was suddenly concentrating extra hard on his work, attending to the other employees that were just arriving. 

"Good morning Miss Bronte." They greeted, each of them in a timid voice all the while avoiding her gaze as they hurried through the automated doors. 

Another thing, the employees knew too well that it was considered tardiness of you to arrive after the boss and depending on how many minutes after, the degree attracted negative consequences. And Amelia was as time-conscious as time itself.

"Cameron, is it?" Amelia took off her shades. She was now beside the security guard, significantly taller because of the addition the heels lent to her already tall self and with the looks he gave him, it was only right for Cameron to feel towered upon.

He swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing. A few strands of short hair clung to his moist forehead that itched badly as well. However, he was afraid that any other move, even if it was as necessary as blinking, would only cause more trouble for him. He couldn't bring his vocal chords to work so he simply nodded. 

"How much do you value working here?" Amelia asked. 

"H-huh?" Cameron's head jutted forward, his eyelids widening.

All it took was the sharp manner in which Amelia's intense-looking eyebrows jerked towards each other in a frown and Cameron heard the unspoken words very loudly in his ear. Have you turned deaf?

"Um…yeah. I…" he stuttered.

Amelia could barely keep in the irritation within her from rising to levels that were bound to cause the release of venomous words from her tongue this morning.

Why can't my morning simply be perfect? Amelia cried within.

"Yes ma'am." Cameron nodded, suddenly calmer. The kind that showed you accept whatever suspected consequences was there that awaited you.

Amelia took one breath in and stuck out her chin proudly.

"Then keep your romance matters out and away from my company." She warned and didn't wait any second further to strut out of Cameron's presence and into the company. 

The door operator from inside his cubicle watched his boss, his eyes not leaving her as her rather too-erect model figure approached the elevator in perfect well-trained struts that had never worn off despite discontinuing her modelling career. With her gaze focused on the steel doors of the elevator up ahead, she walked past the receptionist's corner but then stopped. 

"Uh-oh!" The door operator muttered. From his position—his head was stuck out of the window— he could see Amelia cock her head in a way that he knew, by experience, that it meant trouble. She was staring towards her right side. Unfortunately, the door operator couldn't see what it was that had her staring at that. Even if he pushed his body more than he was now through the window, he still wouldn't be able to see.

Amelia's eyes fluttered to the polished glassy table, noticing the crumbs that decorated the top and some papers. Something pink caught her eyes amidst the sweet deposits. 

Is that a smear I see?

Bennie, the receptionist, froze midway. His hand hung in the air, holding a bitten donut and his lips slightly apart about to take a bite. With each step that Amelia took, a new bead of cold perspiration oozed out of his pores. One trickled from his armpit within his pale blue shirt, traveling down the side of his body. 

Today's the day I get canned. Today's the day I get canned. Today's the day I get canned… Bennie kept repeating in his head to match each click of Amelia's heels.

It was as if the whole world had stopped breathing. As if every pair of eyes was frozen on the two of them and even seconds itself seemed to have stopped ticking.

It was clear now in view, the frosty pink substance gloriously an ugly decoration on the table. Amelia felt irritated, not the kind that involved your guts though. The kind that was quick to raise your temper if you were like Amelia, that is. 

Bennie didn't know whether to apologize or not. His brain was, at the moment, being overwhelmed with all possible right words but they all seemed stuck in the walls of his throat. 

Amelia drew in a short snappy breath. "Benjamin Descartes?" She called in a crisp tone that had that ''I'm about to scold the childishness out of you'' edge similar to the high-pitched squeaks of whistles from a pressure cooker.

"Y-yes ma'am?" 

Bennie wasn't exactly the slim type or the thick type as the modern world would put someone whose body wasn't slim, but they still found attractive. To bluntly put, he was obese and had a lot of flesh that nearly made his jaw inexistent. 

"What's this on the table?"

Bennie sent a nervous glance to the table and swallowed again. "D-donut crumbs ma'am."

"Of course, it's donuts crumbs along with a smear of jam on the table!" Amelia eventually snapped. "What's your primary job as a receptionist, hmm?"

"To make the first impression of the company to every new customer." Bennie whimpered.

"And how does this—" Amelia waved a hand at the messy table "—make a good impression? One would think you would be an advocate for healthy eating habits considering you're hardly fitting into your new chair, but no! You're still stuffing your face with donuts." 

With every word, Bennie seemed to shrink deeper into his collar. His eyes were downcast now as Amelia reprimanded him.

"I want to assume you don't wanna lose your job, right Benjamin?" Amelia knocked twice on the desk so that Bennie was forced to snap up and look at her.

The employees wondered if Amelia had always been like this or if it was because of what happened because even sympathy seemed to be foreign to Amelia who only sneered at Bennie's teary gaze. While others suddenly felt bad for Bennie seeing how he was at the brink of crying, Amelia looked even more displeased. 

"Y-yes ma'am." He answered, one sob escaping his lips.

"Then do not let this happen again. Besides, crying makes you appear pathetic. Not a pretty sight." Amelia whirled around to return to the direction she was headed.  The employees who were watching immediately scrambled to go on about their business the moment they sensed that she was done with Bennie. Some of them manage to cast a glimpse of sympathy to Bennie whose tensed shoulders showed how hard he was trying to hold those tears and sobs back in.

Amelia didn't need to speak to the rest of the employees within her sight, they all avoided her gaze and concentrated extra hard on something else, a phone call or a file. 

The elevator was within sight and Amelia couldn't wait to be alone. A part of her was already nagging at her accusingly. 

Few steps only. Amelia told herself but just as soon as she passed through the glass door behind which the elevator and a hallway were, someone bumped into her spilling something wet and warm on her. 

"What is the matter with y—" Amelia was saying but stopped short as the smell of coffee hit her nose strongly. She stared down at her white Prada suit in horror, an ugly brown patch had stained it horribly. 

The poor cleaner gasped, immediately feeling sorry but one look from Amelia told him this was it.