After a brief pause, the pixie took the hand I was holding out and shook it. Firm, confident, but brief. She was no-nonsense, this woman. But I’d known that already.

“Edith,” she replied coolly, then jerked her head in Jacqueline’s direction. “I presume you two have already introduced yourselves? Jacqueline is my number two—she’s going to be helping us this evening.”

“All right!” I said, rubbing my hands together. “So, do you want to go through the plans, then we can crack on.”

Edith’s green eyes narrowed, sending a chill down my spine. “Haven’t you already seen the plans?”

I tried not to gulp. “Y-yes, of course. But I thought it’d be useful to outline everything, make sure we’re on the same page. Avoid any potential problems.”

“You foresee problems?” Hands on hips, she raised her eyebrows, which were the same golden color as her cropped hair.

Fuck. I’ve riled the dragon already. “No,” I said, more confidently than I felt, “absolutely not. But I haven’t worked at this store before, or with you, so it makes sense for me to get to know the place, discuss the plans with you, before we begin.”

She had a curly black afro, curves you could lose yourself in for days and a wiggle that would have turned me instantly if I wasn’t already into women.

Blinking as we emerged into the blazing lights of the shop floor, I continued in Jacqueline’s wake, adjusting my ponytail and fixing a smile on my face as we grew closer to the window…and Edith. She was the big cheese—when it came to the window design and execution, anyway—so I needed to make a good impression. Hopefully she’d give good feedback to my boss, and I’d get more projects like this in future. Maybe even a raise—a girl could dream, right?
“Hi,” I said as we came within a couple of paces of my soon-to-be workspace. “I’m Jessie. Pleased to meet you.”

“Thanks…”

“I’m Jacqueline. Edith’s already in the window. She’s the one in charge.”

I nodded. “Okay—lead the way.” I followed Jacqueline through the dimly lit storeroom. I’d known instantly she wasn’t Edith, because she looked nothing like a pixie. More like a goddess.

“Oh, hi. I’m Jessie—from the shop-fitters? Here to work on your window display?”

The woman—the voice had given it away, as she was still peering through the crack between the door and its frame—eyed me up. The black trousers, black T-shirt, black fleece—the latter two bearing the name of the company I worked for—clearly weren’t enough. Turning her attention to the van behind me—emblazoned with the company name in huge letters—she now seemed convinced.

“All right,” she said, opening the door wider and stepping back to let me through. “Come on in.”

And here I was, at the back entrance of the flagship store of the world-famous fashion chain, ready to change over its window display in time for when the shop reopened in the morning. I glanced at my watch, relaxed a little. It was ten p.m. Eleven whole hours until opening time. No problem, even for a relative newbie like me.

The door opened a crack and a sliver of a dark face peered out at me. “Yes?”