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6. First Chair of Opportunity

Posted: Sat Aug 03, 2019 10:56 pm
by Wraithwriter
Stacy could barely keep her eye one. The heat generated by the many bodies crammed into the small room combined with the droning voice of the presenter to create an atmosphere ideal for sleep. With considerable effort she managed to pry it open for the thousandth time since the seminar’s commencement.

Why did I ever agree to this? She thought dejectedly knowing the answer already. As always it was about her need for rent money.

Since the night watchwoman gig she’d bounced from one job to another never able to last longer than three days. She’d gathered dung chips for a potter, tried her hand at being a landscape laborer, failed at being a store clerk selling cured fertilizer, most frustrating of all were the polite refusals to even speak with her. After a short frustrating stint as a human scarecrow she’d decided to take a break, but the rent still haunted her every waking moment.

So here she was valiantly attempting to stay awake while her landlord soaked up every sappy word beside her. The man was a true son Vargbriton and for some ungodly reason Forthwithe’d decided to drag her along as his plus one. However the man knew her all too well for he reassured her that it would not be a waste of her time, after all there were worse things than being a professional seat warmer. HA!

“We define our own destiny,” announced the speaker, “we can not simply sit around waiting for others to hand success to us on a silver plater. No! We must seize it for our selves!” Stacy had only been half listening, more like dosing, when the speaker hit on the word ‘seize’ and she sprang from her seat.

“Yes! Leap from your chairs and take fate into your own hands!” the speaker bellowed exploiting Stacy’s action. All around her others sprang to their feet whistling and waving their hands in the air like wild savages, while others clapped excitedly. Forthwithe slapped her on the back as he danced around exuberantly, his normally composed demeanor forgotten.

On the stage the speaker stood smiling gleefully, his arms thrown wide. Giving the still cheering crowd a bow he left the stage, exiting the room on a rising crescendo of applause. In his wake walked a woman, the venues organizer, with hands raised in a calming gesture.

“What a speech, eh! If everyone will calm down and retake your seats we will begin the meet and greet process.” It took a few minutes for everyone to reign in their excitements and retake their seats. “Thank you everyone. Now before we let the VIPs proceed, Mr. Alfonso has made a special request,” here she paused to remove a hard tablet from her belt and study it. “You,” she announced, pointing finger at Stacy, “Stacy isn’t it? Mr. Alfonso would like to meet with you.”

Applause followed this announcement, this time for her. Giving the crowd a half smile to hide her annoyance, she followed the woman out of the stuffy room. In the foyer she relished in the relative coolness as she looked around and noted the speaker, Mr. Alfonso, approaching her with a hand out stretched read to shake hers.

Extending her hand to meet the man’s, Stacy smiled dryly as he attempted to play dominance games by apply undue pressure on her hand. Being undiplomatic as she was, she disabused him of his illusions quickly forcing a grimace to mar his otherwise glorious smile. She continued shanking his hand for a count of three before letting him have it back.

“Quite the grip you got there,” Mr. Alfonso commented while wringing his hands trying to get the feeling back. “I have to thank you for that display in their,. It was excellently timed, and will greatly improve my book sales with this crowd. Whatever they’re paying you here’s another 300.” He handed her a jingling bag of coins. Upon opening it so was met by the site of shiny gold.

“Oh yes,” Mr Alfonso spoke again, “A piece of advice...Loose the eye patch it makes you look unapproachable, and smile more. Just some lessons learned-AH!” He never finished as her left hook connected with his jaw.