Mid-March

A few weeks passed, and there was no sign of Sven. I walked past the hallway of the QUT business school at least a dozen times, usually on Thursday evenings. You'd think that I might have the slightest chance of stealing a glimpse of the Scandinavian Viking.

Just as I lucked out on the Saturday night Gold Lotto draws, a national lottery syndicate that I used to participate in, I did not have any luck finding Sven again. Lady Luck was a finicky bitch, I cursed in my head.

Life was too short to dwell on some stranger, so I marched on and blotted the Norse god out of my mind, shipping him back to Valhalla, with a return to sender stamp.

***

Work was a monotonous chore, with Tweedledum and Tweedledee on board the Good Ship Lollipop. I did not transform into Hudson Engineering's Shirley Temple before I had my morning coffee. My poison? A triple-chocolate mocha with a dash of caramel. If I could add a hint of rum or vodka, and get away with it, I probably would have done so. However, I refrained from the temptation. It would not have fared so well, as I was awarded the previous month's "Health and Safety" prize in the company.

The Emder project was a success, and we were negotiating a lucrative contract with the national oil and gas company. Unfortunately, it meant that I was pulled aside from my core duties to help Tweedledum (aka Larry) move the Emder project forward.

One fine day, when I thought that Gary was out of the office, I decided to chill out on the plush sofa near the coffee machine, with earphones attached to my mobile phone, so I could listen to the Violent Femmes on Spotify. It was 9:00 a.m., and I wore my old Doc Martens from my university days. I had no appointments with clients that day, and since Gary was out of the office, I wore an over-size Hello Kitty shirt and a pair of shiny black tights to go with my Docs.

I smiled a Cheshire cat's grin, as my tongue sinfully savored the creamy, rich taste of my chocolate-spiked coffee.

"Eva, please come to my office," a familiar voice barked behind me.

Shit. I looked up and stared at a pair of icy, slit-like eyes.

"Gary, I thought you weren't coming in today!" I nearly choked on my coffee.

"I changed my mind." His nose wrinkled, and his mustache twitched as his eyes squinted at me.

Five minutes later, I sat in Gary's office at the small meeting table across him. I looked like a funky college student sitting across my immaculately dressed boss.

"Eva, I am creating a new position for you. How would you feel about managing contracts with a few of our largest suppliers?" Gary's mouth shifted from one side to the other, mustache in tow.

"Oh?" My eyes shot up as a reaction to Gary's surprise proposal.

"It's time for you to try something out of your comfort zone," he replied.

"Who's going to handle the marketing and communications?" I shot back with a question.

"You will," the mustached dictator responded.

"What? In addition to managing contracts? Gary, you're going to burn me out!" I protested.

"Mary will assist you. You will help her with her career development and growth, as she will be promoted to marketing administration officer." Gary's face resembled a stone wall.

"Who will take on her tasks?" I was curious.

"We are hiring a new person for general office duties," the mustache spoke.

Little did I know at the time that the "new person" was the daughter of a major client. Hence, the musical chairs.

As I was about to get up from my seat, Gary handed me a white envelope.

"Congratulations on your new role." He beamed with excitement and I smiled back.

A minute later, I opened the envelope in my office. I gasped when I saw the numbers on the letter. I received a substantial pay rise and a hefty bonus that warranted a celebration.

An hour later, the HR director knocked on my door, and we discussed my new role. I believed that deep down, Gary truly valued me as a member of his team. I played a role in strategically dismantling the competition from the Emder project, and my efforts were being recognized.

Interestingly, Gary did not react to my "college years" outfit that day. I later found an old photo of Gary in his youth, in which he sported long, wavy locks of hair, a psychedelic shirt, gold chains around his neck, and sideburns that put Wolverine to shame. The photo was in Google images.

***

"Hooray!" I cheered, as my best friend, Maddy, and I toasted to my new role with a pint of beer at the Belgium Beer Garden in the city.

It was Friday night, and we were celebrating life's victories by attempting to paint the town red, yellow, pink, and green with a handful of craziness and lots of beer.

Earlier that evening, we entered the pristine confines of a Louis Vuitton store, where I purchased an Alma Haut satchel bag. We were happy when we entered the boutique-I mean, really happy, if you get my drift.

We may have been under the influence of our good friend Mary Jane, and a bit of white wine.

"You can't just buy that," Maddy squeaked as I sloppily picked up the brown bag from the display window.

"Sure, we can!" I grinned at Maddy.

"Ev-oof!" Maddy sucked a bubble of air in, as I slapped a Monogram baseball cap on her head.

"Here ya go! Consider it yours." I bowed and swiveled my right hand to regale her royal highness, Maddy Carlson, queen of mischief and mayhem.

The sales assistant wrinkled his nose, before approaching us and asking in a pretentious and condescending manner if we needed any assistance.

I gently handed the bag to Lord Vuitton and delicately placed the cap on his head, before exclaiming in a cavalier tone, "I would like to acquire these fine pieces of couture. They are a fair representation of haut monde, would you say, fine sir?"

A modelesque couple sneered at me, and I returned their kind gesture with a wink and a toothy grin.

Twenty minutes later, Maddy and I walked out of the store, leaving behind the stunned shoppers and a rather satisfied sales assistant, who was pleased with our purchase and accommodated to seemingly genuine pleasantries after the card transaction went through.

I silently thanked Gary for the bonus he gave me.

Maddy and I then stopped at the Belgium Beer Garden, where we guzzled fruit beer and roared at the television screen, which aired a rugby league football game. The North Queensland Cowboys were playing against the Brisbane Broncos, and the Cowboys were winning. We preferred the Cowboys, as we believed that they tended to support more of the hidden talent, particularly from the regional communities.

"Hey, beautiful." A smarmy, blond jocular male in a business suit pinched my ass.

"Hey, yourself." I smacked his hand off me.

"Bitch," he snarled.

"Waste of space." I rolled my eyes and turned away from him.

He continued calling me all sorts of names under the stars, and Maddy was about to engage in a battle of words in retaliation when I gently placed my hand on her shoulder.

"Dogs who treat women like playthings aren't worth the energy. Save it for the more important things in life." My eyes connected with hers, and she understood not to push further.

An hour later, we were at Kebab Kings, a fast-food joint that was calling us to taste the grease and juices of succulent lamb slices, blended with tabbouleh and hummus, in a wheat wrap.

Two handsome, cocky young guys were making our kebabs while singing to the tunes of Maroon Five. Judging by the bulge of their arm muscles and the slimness of their waist, they must have worked out regularly.

"Hey ladies, are you having fun this evening?" The shorter of the two men smiled at us. His name badge read "Dimitri."

"We sure are, sailor," Maddy chirped, as she toyed with her Goldilocks hair.

What started as playful talk turned into somewhat moderate flirting, until Dimitri said, "Lemme guess, you must be about forty-eight kilos." His eyes were set on Maddy.

My jaw dropped as his friend, who sported a buzz cut and a name badge embossed with "Raphael", handed me a large, juicy kebab.

Dimitri looked at me and continued, "Let me guess your weight. You must be-"

"Hey, knock it off!" I cut him off.

"C'mon, just let me guess," the blockhead whined.

"Okay then, two can play this game," I snarled.

"How about you and your friend-Raphael, is it? Yeah, how about you and Raphael drop your dacks and show us what you've got? We can compare notes, yeah? Penis size for our weight."

Five minutes later, my kebab was splashed and meshed, like a Warhol-on-speed masterpiece all over the wall, tarnishing an "Employee of the Month" plaque that was engraved with Dimitri's name.

"I'm so tired, Eva. I want to go to bed. Where are we going now?" Maddy asked, as we crossed over to the street near the city's riverside, where a tall building stood. The word "Marriott" was emblazoned on the building's facade, as if fate was guiding us towards it.

"We're staying there tonight," I pointed at the building.

We entered the twenty-four-hour marbled lobby of the Marriott Hotel, where I paid for one night to stay in a twin deluxe room. Convenience was more comforting than saving on costs at one a.m. when taxi queues were over-filled, and we desperately needed sleep.

Before falling asleep, I thought of buying gold with the rest of my bonus. Nope, not the kind of gold you see in a jewelry shop. I was going to buy some shares on a gold company I was advised to invest in. One of the perks of working at Hudson Engineering was meeting people like the company's financial advisor, who liked to talk about his cars, boat, and investments during lunch.

The next morning, Maddy and I had a room-service champagne breakfast in our bathrobes. She and I looked like hot morning messes, hungover from the night before, but we didn't care. She was my soul sister.

"Eva, do you believe in love?" Maddy asked as I stuffed a buttery croissant in my mouth.

"Mmmm, ah, what?" My eyebrows ratcheted to my hairline.

"You know, love," Maddy declared.

Love?

"Nah, I don't think so." I shook my head and continued to eat my croissant.

I did not believe in love.