//------------------------------// // “Well then! How d'ya like coffee now?!” // Story: Misadventures in Manehattan // by The Princess Rarity //------------------------------// EVENT FIVE: Actually Working “Now, remember,” Prim Hemline declared. “Odd-numbered rooms are to have the plaid drapes while even numbered rooms will have checkerboard patterned drapes. They are not to touch the floor nor are they to go above the baseboards. Also take in mind that the color of the drapes must not clash with anything in the room. Try not to choose any fabrics that are loud, either. We want to make a statement with the hotel makeover, but we don’t want to overdo it.” She turned around with a flair and looked at her employee sternly. “Do you understand what needs to be done?” Coco looked up from her notebook, skimmed the directions and nodded. “Yes, ma’am,” she said. Prim’s expression bore what seemed to resemble a smile. “Very well then, Miss Pommel,” she replied. “I’m off for the day, I have to go attend my daughter’s ensemble performance, but I assume that leaving everything in your hooves is a good plan, yes?” Coco nodded once more. “Yes, of course, ma’am, you can count on me,” she assured. “I figured as much,” Prim said. She headed for the door, and added, “Remember, dial my colleagues, Hoity Toity and Photo Finish, if you are in need of any assistance. I’m sure they can lend you somepony to help around here if need be. By the way, I have an appointment I can’t cancel, could you handle it for me?” “I - I’ll be fine,” Coco said, hoping that her boss didn’t catch the slight stutter. Running the upstairs shop all on her own was something she had done for an hour or two, but a whole day was something else in it’s entirety. “Good luck,” Prim huffed as she left. Coco let out an uneasy sigh, and placed her notepad down. She headed over to the sewing machine and clicked it on, letting it buzz to life as she began choosing fabrics. Silk and satin were far too expensive for simple drapes, and velvet was a nice idea, but it could get easily ruined. Cotton seemed like the most reliable cloth to use -- but color was a battle to choose. The rooms in the Manefair Hotel were sweet, elegant with a touch of class. However, the samples Coco had been given to use were bright, and vibrant. She wondered: would neon green and orange really look nice against white walls and tan carpeting? Holding up a piece next to the wall, she smiled. Who would have guessed? Orange made the rugs stand out, and the neon green was a nice opposite to the plain white. Just as Coco was about to start sewing, there was a rapid knock on the door. “I’m here for an appointment with Prim!” somepony yelled. Coco hesitated as she heard the voice. She knew it. It almost made her want to hide under the desk and hope that the pony would eventually give up and leave… ...but then again, that wasn’t what faithful employees did. Releasing a deep breath, Coco headed over to the door and opened it. “She’s not here today, I’m in charge,” she said, trying not to stutter. “I’ll take your appointment.” “You work here?!” “Yes, Suri. As a matter of fact, I do,” Coco declared, suddenly feeling proud of herself. The mare stammered and dodged glances, looking down to the floor. “Uh, who’s Suri?” She faked a cough and avoided eye contact at all costs. “I’m, uh, Zuri. With a z. Totally different pony, you probably misread my name or something, mmkay?” Her face fell. “I mean, uh… yeah. Wrong name you read.” Coco frowned. “No makeup or wig will change the fact I know the real you,” she said. Now sporting a platinum blonde wig, and blue eyes, with a black trenchcoat on, it was still noticeable to the fact that this was indeed Suri Polomare. “So, what are you here for?” Coco asked politely. Suri huffed. “Whatdya think?” she snapped. “I need a job.” Coco nodded, and allowed Suri into the shop. “So you’re looking for employment here? At the same place you were fired from?” she said hesitantly. “Don’t you think Prim will recognize you?” Suri rolled her eyes. “Not if ya don’t bail me out, mmkay?” she sneered. A part of Coco almost wanted to shoot back a cruel statement -- or a rant, even -- but she wasn’t that type of pony. Instead, she just gave a curt nod and walked over to the desk, pulling out a clipboard from one of the drawers and holding it out to Suri. “Fill out this form, and if Prim finds you eligible, you should get a call soon,” Coco explained. “Yeah, I know how this works,” Suri grumbled as she snatched the pen. Coco sat down, starting to work when out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Suri, absolutely frustrated and eyeing the fabrics longingly. Immediately after Suri was fired for plagiarizing another fashionista’s line, Coco was her replacement. Prim had shown Coco everything there was to know about the shop, and over the past few months, it had all been a dream come true, but now, the slightest worry ticked in Coco’s mind. “There,” Suri declared. She threw the clipboard down. “See ya around.” Coco simply watched as Suri headed for the door. It wasn’t the typical Suri walk Coco used to know. Before, Suri would walk like a model, head held high as if the world owed her everything. Now? Her stance was weak and she stomped around. “Wait,” Coco said. “What?” Suri shot back. “You… um… forgot to fill out your marital status and secondary name,” Coco pointed out, looking at the form and holding it out. “It’s mandatory, see?” “Oh,” was all that Suri could mutter. She picked up the pen, and checked off “NO” for the marital status, and jotted down some bogus last name… yet all the while, her eyes are more focused on the fabrics and other sewing supplies. Coco could tell what Suri was thinking, and by no means was Coco going to be a pushover and give it to her, no way, no how. Then again, decorating all of the rooms in one day would be difficult, she thought. Her heart and conscience were battling it out deep down, and Coco felt her mouth start to move before she could even think. “You’re hired temporarily for the day,” she said quickly. “What?” Suri repeated. “How does that even work?” “I… I’ll pay you. A day’s wages, if you help me,” Coco stuttered. “I need an assistant.” “My, the tables have turned,” Suri murmured. She looked at the paperwork and sighed. “Yeah, ok. Whatdya need?” Coco slid over her notepad and pointed to the racks of fabrics. “I know your main talent is eye for detail. I need you to measure the approximate length between the baseboards of the rooms and the floors. Have it done as soon as you can,” she said. “Please.” Suri nodded. “Alright,” she mumbled, heading for the door to go work. Coco felt her heart warm, while her conscience sank. “And by the way, Suri?” she spoke up. “Yeah?” “I don’t forget, but I definitely forgive,” Coco explained. “And not easily, either.” Suri said nothing as she left, slamming the door behind her. When Coco took one last look at the employment fill-in sheet, she glanced at the “N / A” written on the address section. Suddenly, her conscience soared. “Generosity, you are the key,” she slightly hummed to herself. It was a song that a friend had taught her… ..and just now did Coco realize how true it really was. ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ Grace sat at her desk, typing away. She was on the last sheet of papers: apparently, the Prime Minister of Prance wanted to buy half of the Manefair Hotel franchise. She wondered what her boss would think about that. But the more important thing on her mind were the concert tickets she had shoved into her purse. Baymont wasn’t a rude stallion at all. Despite his weird voice and stupid quirks, he was actually a bit of a gentlecolt. She was almost considering giving the tickets back. He could give them to a mare who actually wanted to go out with him or he could take a friend not-- “Hey, can ya tell me how to work this stupid elevator?” a voice spoke up. “You gotta pull the lever, and then press the button,” Grace said, without looking away from her typewriter. “If that doesn’t work, use the steps -- I ain’t the maintenance man.” “The stairwell is locked, can I have the key?” Grace let out a sigh. “Sure, one minute,” she grumbled. She got up from her seat, grabbed her Sunbucks coffee (that Baymont was nice enough to buy for her) and took a sip as she made her way over to the file cabinet where the keys were kept. She fiddled amongst papers and other junk, when she finally fished out the key ring. “Here ya go,” Grace muttered. She turned around just as she was sipping her coffee once more… …but she instantly did a spit-take when she saw who was standing at the desk. “I-it’s you! You’re the gal who conned my friend, Suri whatsername!” she stammered out. Now realizing that she had sprayed coffee all over Suri, Grace laughed and gave a cocky smile as she tossed the keys across the way. “Well then! How d'ya like coffee now?!” she sneered.