"I brought him the wrong coffee." Evelyn laid her menu down beside her. "I don't have any revenge plans."

"I do," Deedee purred. "Cause I know his type." She flashed Evelyn a mischievous feline grin. "Let me tell you how I'm familiar with privileged attitude. Before I was Lady Dee, I worked for a nasty piece of shit named Mother of Pearl. A no-talent hack who designed for the House of Gucci. Spewing pure rage was how he introduced himself. Couldn't use a business card like any sane person. Same MO as your cocksucker boss." Her tuna fish sandwich arrived, and she took a ravenous bite. "In my opinion, this nutjob needs a good buttfucking, like Mother of Pearl. She waved a well-salted french fry and chewed noisily. "I say, let's teach this asshole a lesson in schadenfreude for running a company that  thrives on humiliating people."

"What's schadenfreude?" Evie grasped at the exotic sounding word to avoid the buttfucking details.

"That's German for the joy obtained from the troubles of others. Who doesn't enjoy seeing someone who's screwing you get the trouble they deserve?" Deedee delicately wiped mayonnaise from the corner of her mouth with a napkin.

Relishing the Sinclair bashing, Evie found her appetite had returned. She flagged down their waitress and said, "I'll have the mushroom soup and a garden salad, please," and then turned back to her companion.

"Dee, I have to admit there's something else I'm upset about." Evie snagged a fry off her friend's plate. "I came up with an idea to expand CENTIEN's market base by targeting seniors. The company largely ignores that age group right now. I stayed up all night working on a new presentation. Honestly, that's why I must've spaced on the beverage orders."

Deedee nodded. "Ageism. I'm not surprised the company's guilty of that too. Evie, I thought you were working on marketing new generation smartphones to millennials?"

"I am, but I realized there's an untapped niche for seniors and tech. A huge one. I'm so disappointed about messing up today." She sighed and cupped her chin in her hand. "I missed my chance to pitch the idea I have to the development team."

Deedee frowned. "What Sinclair did to you was demeaning as hell. This jerk should be the CEO of stupid." She delicately burped. "In my opinion, this is your lucky day. My assistant chef just quit. We have a job opening down at the shelter and its yours if you want it."

"Thanks Dee, but I need to talk to Mr. Lear first. He told me to take a week off and reconsider leaving CENTIEN."

"Who's he?"

Evelyn sipped her Sangria and smiled. "He's the Corporate Financial Officer. He's such a nice person. He's close with Mr. Sinclair, but he's nothing like him. Mr. Lear's the one who took me aside and encouraged me to do the senior market research. He told me my idea was brilliant. He said once Mr. Sinclair saw my presentation, I'd be a shoo in for the Marketing Associate position."

"A guaranteed winner, huh. Sounds like that quick-witted man should be in charge of CENTIEN, not the a-hole." She angled her head. "And?"

Evelyn looked down at the table, her voice barely a whisper. "I met with him and Mr. Sinclair, but the meeting was a disaster. Mr. Sinclair acted like a spoiled brat. Even if Mr. Lear sorts things out, I don't know if I can go back. I never want to see that man again."

Deedee clapped hands that were large enough to be catcher's mitts together as if she was swatting a fly. "Hot damn, we're making progress. Anyway, I'm curious how your company's intern program works. Are you getting compensated for these brilliant ideas you're giving this company?"

"No, but I'm competing for the vicennial division's Marketing Associate position, along with twenty other interns." Evie smiled proudly.

"What if you don't get picked? Are you reimbursed in any other way?" Deedee raised her well-defined eyebrows, questioningly. "Like with stock options?"

"No." She looked down at her empty soup bowl.

"Bitcoin?" Evelyn shook her head. "Travel reimbursement? Free food?" Disbelieving, Deedee cocked her head sideways. "Anything?" A look of horror crossed  her face. "Don't tell me they're giving you shitcoins."

"We get free wi-fi and beverages."

"Free wi-fi? You can get that at the gas station with a burrito." She daintily sliced her piece of lemon meringue pie with a fork. "Ok, this is what I want you to do. March your ass right back into that tyrant's office and tell him you demand to be compensated for your work."

"Dee, I like my work. It's him I detest."

"It's not work if you're not paid. It's slavery. Do me a favor, Evie. Come down to the shelter and see how you like the kitchen position I told you about. I know you can cook." Her strong-featured face softened. "You're a highly sensitive person. HSP's should stay in their lane and work in a creative, nurturing environment. Not a corporate hell hole where the CEO emotionally bullies you." When the intern started to politely decline, Deedee added. "Alright, keep your internship for now, but come see if you like working with us down at the homeless center. We're good people."

"Dee." Evelyn's eyes softened and she bit her lower lip.

"What babe?"

"I think under that plastic exterior, he's a hurt little boy."

Deedee snorted. "So, he can't help hurting people? He's an asshole in my book. Until Mr. Man Child learns to stop belittling everyone, he'll always be one." She harrumphed, "Stop making excuse. You're enabling him when you do that." Squeezing Evelyn's hand, she said, "Do me a favor, hon. I want you to start believing in yourself. You're the most important person in your life when you're surrounded by idiots. And another thing," she critically eyed Evelyn's beige suit, "you need to stop dressing like you work at the DMV."

Evelyn smiled for the second time that day. "I think I"ll take you up on that offer."

The Drag Queen smiled triumphantly. "You know that cute little black number you bought last week? Pull it out of your closet. Tonight, we celebrate your liberation from that corporate gulag."