“All right! I’ve got to work hard to make up for lost time! Today’s going to be great!” Aria shouted as she shut her door, stepping onto the front porch of her apartment building. She trotted happily down the white stone steps towards her bicycle, an orchid twelve speed ladies bike she purchased second hand three years ago when she started working for Meretricious Publishing. Though she made great money for a middle-class high school graduate living in Artesia she shopped like a lower-class high school drop out for the most part. She refused to spend more than necessary on many things, but splurged ridiculously when it came to clothing and costumes. Anyone on Meretricious’s salary was able to afford any regular name brand clothing item, but she saved for the highest class designer labels. She had very few, but was extremely proud of them. Her job was one of the highest paying middle class jobs a person could hold outside of a government job.
At Meretricious she wrote for Aristocratic Allure Magazine, a magazine about the fashion and lifestyles of the highest caliber members of society, but geared towards the middle-class working woman. Along with AAM, Meretricious also published two other magazines. After Curfew; the equivalent of AAM, but geared at men, and Nearly Noble; a business oriented magazine for middle-class companies and restaurants, which was filled with tips and ideas to make a second-rate business look first rate. When she was hired Meretricious was hiring writers for all three magazine’s, but she chose to write for AAM as it was their latest publication. She also felt that she could truly give the magazine the content, depth, and fan-base it deserved.
She continued talking to herself as she undid the chain to her bicycle, “Oh, Froggy said he had an assignment for me, one only I could take on! Finally, this is my chance to prove I was born to write for Allure!” She was incredibly excited, it seemed as though nothing could put a damper on her mood. After the undid the lock, an ordinary bike chain with a clear pink plastic coating over it and a simple cylindrical keypad, and tied it around the base of the bicycle she stopped turned towards the apartment jumping up and down three times shouting, “Yippee!” each time. When she turned back toward the bike there was a small Yellow Labrador urinating on her rear tire. At least a third of the slim, black tire was now damp with a foul liquid.
“Gah!” she squealed! “Silly Mickey, that’s not a fire hydrant, shoo, shoo!” she shouted, waving in a motion to turn the dog away. The young dog belonged to one of the neighbor children and was quite fond of Aria, but had very poor manners. However, she was also quite fond of the puppy. She then fastened a large black bag to the back of the bicycle containing feminine products such as make up and hairspray, as well as her lunch. Finally, without further hesitation, she jumped on her bicycle and headed for the office. She quickly made her way off the side-walk and onto the dark blacktop road and into the bike lane. She lived in a small neighborhood in the vastly large Moss District of Artesia, which had little traffic at any given time. It was typically home to middle-class single mothers or small families with young children.
As she peddled down the bike lane at a quickened pace her beautiful, rich auburn hair blew back. Her hair was nearly shoulder length, cut slightly shorter in the back and cropping together in the front, seemingly coming to a point at the end. Her bangs were offset, slightly longer on the right than on the left, but layered to appear that way. At the moment her hair had no product in it of any sort as she typically left early for work to pretty up in the bathroom before she started. The way she saw things, biking to work would only mess up her hair so she might as well do herself up completely once she was there. It worked well for her, regardless of her current hair style.
She biked twelve blocks to work every week day, from the Moss District to the Aster District. The Aster District was essentially the middle-class business section of Artesia. The few larger businesses flourished for what seemed to be an eternity there, but most small ones lasted five years at the most before something more useful or more popular came along, or someone with a great amount of wealth bought them out. The fashions sold in stores were constantly changing with time, former fashions of the upper class cycled in and out, middle-class wardrobes were constantly being designed to mimic the fashion of the nobles. Luckily for Aria, Meretricious had a large office building at the end of the Aster District nearest the Moss District. It wasn’t that she disliked the bike ride, but that she was far too excited and impatient to get tot work every day.
As she arrived she quickly locked up her purple bicycle and charged through the front door of the seven-story tall, white office building. All of buildings in Artesia were either Victorian in design or, mostly in business and aristocratic districts, architecturally crafted in style similar to that of Charles Rennie Mackintosh, a late 19th and early 20th century Scottish architect. The color schemes of the buildings depended very much on their district, typically coordinating with their name. Such as in the Aster District, the buildings in the center form a yellow disk and the buildings expanding outwards from the center are blue, white, or pink in three separate sections just as the flower may be any of these colors.
Aria made her way to the elevator and swiped her access card through the card reader on the elevator, stomping her feet impatiently. “Oh dear lord, you’re back from vacation!” said Agatha, Meretricious’s main receptionist. She was a sixty three year old woman who’d worked as a receptionist her whole life. Apparently she was one of the highest paid in all of Artesia, which for some reason made Aria love taunting her so much more.
“Back just to bug you every day with my impatient stomping! Lieutenant Junior Grade Aria the Antagonist, reporting for duty!!!” Aria said loud and proud. Agatha snickered, but quickly stopped herself and glared at Aria. Aria turned away from the elevator and ran to the reception counter, leaning forwards on it gazing at Agatha’s computer screen. “Oooh, solitaire! Working hard as usual, I see. You really are the best in Artesia, ma’am! No doubt about that.” She joked cockily.
“Little girl, when you get to be my age you don’t need to do a damned thing to get paid. Everyone feels bad for the mean-looking old lady that’s never done any work besides answering calls and checking people in for appointments, conferences, and such. So, if they want to pity me, then I’ll take advantage of it. After all, I’ve worked my ass off to get such sympathy.” Agatha replied, winking at Aria who was continuously glanced back at the elevator and tapped her fingers impatiently. “You really are the kind of person that wants to be two places at once, aren’t you?” She asked, placing her hand over Aria’s to stop her incessant tapping.
“Of course I am, I mean, there’s soooo many fun things in life I want to do!” Aria replied, glancing at the now open, but empty, elevator she was supposed to be in.
“Well, then go to the one you’d rather be and leave me alone. I’ve finally started to get crabby at my old age, so hurry up now. Go!” Agatha said, slapping Aria’s hand off the counter now.
“Ma’am, yes Ma’am! Lieutenant Junior Grade Aria running away, ma’am!” Aria shouted as she ran to the elevator and jumped in.
“Ah, I missed that girl. It was only a week, but she really does brighten up my day. So full of life and so anxious to live it, she’s a cute little thing.” Agatha sighed to herself as the elevator door closed and Aria moved further away from her. She looked down at a picture of a woman that appeared to be in her late thirties with a sorrowful look in her eyes, but quickly shifted her view back to the computer. However, the phone rang suddenly and she answered.
“Yes, she’s on her way up,” Agatha replied to whoever she spoke to. “You’re as impatient today as she is every day, that’s strange for you.” She continued on, “She’s half an hour earlier than usual and you’re calling to see if she’s here yet. You must have something really important for her.” The man on the phone spoke for a moment, then Agatha replied. “I see, so that’s it. You really think she’s up for it?” She paused. “I see, well, she’ll be there soon. Alright, bye.” She said, hanging up the phone. “Poor girl,” muttered, then looked back down at the photograph of that woman and stared for a few moments, then returned to her game of solitaire half-heartedly.