EVENT SEVEN: Back to Work
Coco’s favorite sound in the world had to have been the catchy rhythm of a sewing machine at work. It was a noise that wasn’t quite disturbing, but instead, it was strangely calming. In addition to the fact it was magical watching her creations come to life, the sewing machine’s mechanical whirring was good for helping her pay attention to work…
...not today, though.
Not when Suri was right there -- cutting the fabrics to the right lengths and folding the finished pieces. Normally, she would talk a mile a minute while she worked, but apparently, something had shut her up. What exactly, Coco wasn’t sure, but she definitely had a hunch.
She could understand why Suri would feel upset.
Especially what with Coco noticed on the application…
“You gonna use these colors or should I put ‘em in storage?” Suri asked, as she picked up a bundle of violet, red and black fabrics.
“I think I’ll use the maroon,” Coco replied. “Keep it out here, just in case.”
“Got it,” Suri muttered. She dropped the dark red cloth back onto the shelf and shuffled into the back room to put things away.
To be completely honest, Coco was surprised at how calm Suri had been. She had expected rude comments for the day. Then again, maybe not, she realized. After all, Suri did need a job and nopony could keep an occupation if they were ridiculously rude. Coco felt like her mind was at war: was she a fool for giving her old boss a second chance? The tables had turned and it really did feel strange, not powerful, like she had wondered about in her earlier days.
“Found this in the back,” Suri spoke up. She held up a roll of sunset orange fabric. “Wanna use it?”
“Maybe,” Coco said. “Put it with the other things.” She pointed over to the pile of supplies next to her work desk and went back to sewing.
Without thinking twice, Suri tossed the roll over to the pile, and winced when a domino effect began. The roll hit the basket, knocking over the spools of thread and needles, followed by the samples of other cloths, and then Coco’s leftover soda from lunch spilled all over the drape she was currently working on.
“I’m sorry!” Suri blurted out. “Oh, gosh, really, I am so sorry. I’m an idiot, seriously--” She stammered, and whipped off her trenchcoat, using the belt of it to wipe up the mess. “I’m really, really--”
“Suri, it’s ok,” Coco interrupted. “It was an accident.”
“--sorry,” Suri mumbled as she looked up and met her former assistant’s gaze.
A single, eerie pause passed between them both, only before Coco cleared her throat.
She tossed the cup and the ruined curtain into the trash, and turned off the sewing machine. “We all make mistakes,” she said softly. She nudged the rolls of cotton back up to their standing point and bent down to pick up the needles, but Suri beat her to it.
“L-let me do it,” she stuttered. “It was my fault.”
“It was all your fault,” Coco whispered breathlessly, with the slightest hint of a frown.
She thought that it was impossible for anyone else to hear, but--
“I know,” Suri sighed. “I know I was stupid a while back.”
“Suri, I - I didn’t mean--”
“--I was expecting worse,” she scoffed, as she began collecting the needles with the small magnet in the basket. She stared at the floor for a moment, and bit her lip. “Thanks for, y’know, hiring me today. Prim probably would have laughed in my face, or called the cops, or… I dunno. I just need a job, and I’ve been fired from everywhere I’ve been. All they know me as is, well, the cheater. I’ve been thinking about escaping to Fillydelphia, but--”
“--I can hire you, under my terms,” Coco offered. “I’ll work as Prim’s employee and you’ll work as mine. I’m… sort of a manager now. She’s promoted me, and I can afford to give you a small part-time job as my assistant, if you want.”
Suri bit her lip. “You shouldn’t,” she mumbled.
Coco nodded. “I know,” she replied as she sat back down into her chair. “But my friends taught me that a second chance is the hardest kind of generosity to spare somepony, but it’s probably my mini-superpower.”
Suri placed the box of needles back onto the table, and smirked ever-so-slightly. “Nice mantra.”
Coco could only smile.
“By the way, I know you won’t forget, and I don’t expect you to, but thanks, again, for sort of forgiving me. I don’t know many ponies who would do that,” Suri added. “I’ve always been a bit of a witch.”
“Never too late to change,” Coco said.
“Yeah… you made me realize that,” Suri replied, daring to show a smile.
“I’m glad,” Coco declared.
Her heart and conscience were soaring with delight. She wasn’t a pushover… she was generous.
~ * ~ * ~ * ~ ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ ~ * ~ * ~ * ~
Grace let out a groan as she skimmed through the file cabinet. Where were those stupid posters and brochures? Today was the day Sapphire Shores was going to be doing a book signing on her memoir, and Grace don’t know how she forgot. Now, she only had an hour to put up fliers and give out information papers to everypony in the hotel. This was going to take a miracle -- but alas, in that moment, she didn’t sprout any wings. What a shame: flying always seemed like a fun idea.
Finally, she found the package of bright blue papers and she scurried out from behind her desk, making a mad dash for the elevator. Sixty floors, with ten rooms per floor. She could do this: she had delivered one hundred boxes of Filly Scout cookies in less than four hours back when she was ten years old, how much harder could this be?
“Come on, come on,” Grace muttered, as she jammed the button. “Open up, you stupid metal box.”
Much to her dismay, the elevator wouldn’t open. She kicked the door in frustration and let out a loud, exasperated sigh.
“The elevator broke sometime during lunch,” Baymont spoke up from his stop at the doorway.
“Dammit!” Grace said. “How am I supposed to walk sixty floors?!”
Baymont smirked. “Hang on, I know a guy,” he replied. He trotted over to the secretary desk, and took the phone, dialing up a number. “Hey, buddy, can you zip down here and help out my friend? Won’t take you longer than a minute, I bet.” He hung up and smiled. “No need to thank me, m’lady.”
Grace raised an eyebrow. “Whatever you say, Prince Charming,” she retorted, with an eyeroll.
Baymont winked. “I caught your smile,” he teased.
Grace lifted up the bundle of papers. “I will throw these at you,” she threatened.
As he returned to his post, Baymont laughed. “You like tough love,” he mused.
Just as she opened her mouth to shoot back another smart remark, Grace was startled as somepony suddenly dashed out from the stairwell.
“Uh, are you Monty’s guy?” she asked.
“Monty? Do I have another nickname?”
“Shut up!” Grace called, not realizing that she was blushing. She turned back to the pony -- a tall, gangly orange-ish stallion with a wild brown curly mane. “So…. I don’t wanna sound like a beggar, but can you help me?” She almost dropped the box and nearly fell to her haunches as she tried to hold it. “Trust me, man, this is just as weird for you as it is me. I normally never ask anypony for anythin’. Just… help me, and I dunno, I’ll do ya one favor, like--” She stared at the box. “--you can have Sapphire’s autograph.”
“Um, I’m not really a fan of her music,” the stallion replied. “I prefer polka. But I can always help a friend of a friend!” He took one of the boxes and hoisted it onto his back effortlessly, much to Grace’s awe. For a skinny fellow, he sure was strong. “What do you need with these?”
“Just deliver one paper to each room. Can you walk from the thirtieth floor to the sixtieth in thirty minutes? I’ll hit the bottom part,” she requested.
“Pfft, easy,” he said. “Besides, I know somepony.”
Grace arched an eyebrow. Did everypony know ‘somepony’ in Manehattan?
The stallion pulled a walkie-talkie out from underneath the shirt he was wearing and flicked it on. “Pinkie, I never thought I’d say this, but eat all of the sugar you can,” he said. “We’re gonna do a lot of running.”
He shoved the device back into his shirt, and headed back to the stairwell.
However, just before he left, he looked back.
“By the way, never caught your name,” he said.
“Grace,” she replied, with a small half-smile. “Grace Manewitz. Thanks for your help.”
“Neato to meet you, Grace!” he smiled. “It’s no problem to help. The name’s Cheese Sandwich.”
A moment of silence paused, and Grace blinked slowly. She had heard lots of strange names in the city, but this one was probably in a top five list. She tilted her head to the side and looked at the stallion, gazing over him for a moment.
“Dude, why would your parents name you that?” she asked. “Did they hate you?”
Cheese Sandwich gave a wordless shrug and zipped off, without another word.
Meanwhile, Grace looked at the seemingly never-ending staircase and sighed deeply.
“Well, Grace,” she said to herself. “This is what you get for not working at Ponyville in politics with Ma. You work at a crappy hotel and walk up stairs all day.”