Anne Marsh - Her Intern / Double Dare You

“Wow.” IT Tech Babe stares at me. “I did not see that coming.”

“Just being helpful. Trying to learn. Working up to world domination.” I’ve brought her an iced triple-shot espresso with four artificial sugars, but the pièce de résistance is the can of Mountain Dew I wave in front of her.

“You are so evil.” Cara fixates on the can in my hand. She’s been on the South Beach Diet since Friday, so she’s got to be ready to crack.

I open the can and take a sip. The sugar rush is instantaneous. “I figured we could chat. You can tell me all about what your job entails. What you like about it.” Look at me, Mr. Butter-Won’t-Melt-In-His-Mouth. “What sucks.”

“Why?” Her flip-flop smacks against the floor. Bwap-wap-wap-wap.

“Self-improvement.” I wink at her and hand over the soda can.

“Bless you,” she breathes. Before I can even roll up a yoga ball, she’s mixed the espresso and the soda together in the world’s biggest stainless-steel coffee mug. Soooo gross.

We make chitchat about her job for a minute and then I go for the kill. “So how did you pick our e-commerce platform? I mean, it’s not one of the usual suspects. Did you roll it yourself?”

Cara snorts. “Do I look like a sadist? Not a chance. Lola gave it to me and had me integrate it into our site.”

I take a casual sip of my own coffee. Reel her in. “You got it shrink-wrapped in a box?”

She outright laughs. “Not even close. Lola put it on our file server and I grabbed it from there.”

Okay. So it makes me wonder if Lola has told anyone where she got the software. It doesn’t look good. It shouldn’t be such a secret and I’m sort of tempted to stand up and announce who I am. That they’re using my software without my permission and that it’s all rather felonious from where I sit, sprawled on top of their freaking yoga ball. In other words: Boo.

“Cheers.” Cara taps her cup to mine.

I flash her a smile, kiss her mug with mine and then thank the universe that I’ve got to my feet already because my phone goes off in my back pocket.

The Jaws theme song fills the air. Duh-duh, duh-duh, duh-duh. Followed by tiny guppy pops because you really can’t take life too seriously and Lola is only slightly scary. The scary parts include her big brain and the way she puts two and two together at lightning speed. She could be an apex predator in the programming world if she wasn’t so nice. She gives a genuine shit about the people who work for her and she has morally upright social justice missions that have her investing her time and talents into revolutionizing feminine hygiene rather than making a mountain of cash.

That’s the guppy part, the part that genuinely believes everyone swimming along in the Silicon Valley fishbowl has equally great intentions and will do the right thing. It makes Lola vulnerable, a fact I plan on taking full advantage of.

I look down at my phone. My office. Now.

Go. Don’t go. I don’t know who has the upper hand now. She came on to the summer intern, but I’m the one here under false pretenses and who had my hand in her panties. Followed by my mouth in places my mouth had no business going in the office.

My phone dings again.

You don’t get to make me wait twice.

Good to know where we stand.

I saunter toward Lola’s office.

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