Hell Is Other People by Danielle Bellwood (books under 200 pages .txt) 📕

Gillian practically shouted, one finger held aloft in a well-recognizable sign of righteous ire, “We have all three been categorically denied our rights. We deserve to be compensated for our troubles.”

Phil squeezed his eyes shut and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Why must the two of you always be a problem? Why can’t you damn data drones ever just do your job? No. It’s always, ‘We want better living conditions, Phil.’ ‘Why can’t we do a different job, Phil?’ ‘Why are you always in such a bad mood, Phil?’ Grrr.”

“What do you mean ‘always’?” asked Arlo.

Phil continued like he hadn’t spoken. “Miss Frost,” he said icily, “You have absolutely no idea what you are talking about. The fact that you think you can extort or otherwise force me to impose some sort of regional rules on your internment is laughable.”

“Don’t mansplain to me!” Gillian barked.

“That would be impossible,” Phil said matter-of-factly.

Gillian opened her mouth to respond, but Phil cut her off.

“Let’s try this,” Phil said, “I could… perhaps… agree to some small concession about your employment. How does that sound?”

“What about us leaving the firm?”

“Out of the question,” Phil shook his head. “The best I can do is upgrade your housing situation and perhaps a new employment position.”

“No deal.”

Phil lifted his hands in a sign of pseudo-defeat, indicating that there would apparently be no further discussion.

“Wait. We’ll give you the book,” Arlo said. Shoving the novel into Phil’s hands, he took a step back to stand side by side with Gillian in a united front. “And we’ll owe you for helping us. All we want is to be free of this rut. Both of us,” Arlo said. He grabbed Gillian’s hand and, shockingly, she didn’t stop him.

Phil stared at their held hands for a long time, eyes squinted in thought. His hands caressed the cover of the tattered paperback. The silence stretched for a full minute before he said, “Let’s say for a moment that I do help you… There are exactly fourteen positions at the firm. Every one of them needs a warm body. Currently two of those roles are going unfulfilled, throwing the whole system off balance. In case you are too dimwitted to figure it out, those positions belong to the two of you.”

“What about Roger’s job?”

“What?” Phil said.

“Who’s doing Roger’s job?” Arlo asked. “Why can’t one of us do that?”

The Accountant just stared at him; his head cocked slightly in thought.

“Interesting,” Phil said finally. Removing his glasses, he pulled a linen handkerchief from one pocket and polished the round lenses absently. “I suppose I could arrange something. In exchange for…”

“What?” Gillian asked, eyes squinting in concern.

“Help on a project I’m working on.”

“Project?”

“Yes,” Phil said. “But if… and mind you if… you were to agree to my terms, I might be willing to… well not exactly cancel your contracts with the firm, but perhaps I could bend them a little.”

Glancing at Arlo, Gillian said, “What guarantee would we have that you wouldn’t break your end of the bargain just as soon as we finish helping you with this project?”

Phil shrugged. “I’m afraid you’d have to take my word for it.”

“Not good enough.”

“Well, then…” Phil said. “I guess that’s it then.”

“Wait,” Arlo said. “Will you shake on it?”

Phil’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “Shake on it. Hmmmm. Yes, I suppose that would be alright.”

Phil grabbed Arlo’s outstretched hand, and gave it one quick shake up and down before letting go and pointedly wiping his hand off on his slacks.

“Very well. Sealed and done. Now, what I need you to do is this.” He paused for a long moment, so long in fact, that Gillian opened her mouth to hurry him along but he spoke again before she could get a word out. “I want you to model for me.”

Gillian’s mouth closed with a snap.

“Beg pardon?” Arlo said politely.

“It’s for my new novel. I need to observe a dichotomous couple in a natural looking setting. The two of you are perfect for the roles.”

“A dico-whatamus?” Arlo said, scratching his head in confusion.

“It means polar opposites,” Phil said. “Like oil and water. Or fire and ice. You’re an extrovert. She’s an introvert. She’s a neat freak and you’re… not. But you don’t hate each other-”

Gillian harumphed.

“Not exactly…” Phil clarified. “But you certainly are extremely different. If, as they say, opposites attract, the two of you should be oozing with magnetism, so to speak.”

“Let me get this straight,” Gillian said. “You want us to… model for a romance cover?”

“Well, not just for the cover,” Phil said. “What I need is real inspiration.”

“Inspiration,” Gillian said, snarkily. “For your trashy novel.”

Phil squared his shoulders and straightened his back, standing aggressively at his full 5’ 3”.

“One reader’s trash, is another’s treasure, Miss Frost. Do you want my help or not?”

Exit Strategy

Phil perched precariously on the arm of the chair, looking for all the world like a gargoyle in a dark blue polyester suit.

“The Venutian vixen arched her back, her long neck bowing in anticipation of the way his tetra-toxin laden lips would tingle against her glistening silver skin.” Phil paused to write the words in his notebook after speaking, nodding in approval as he re-read the perfect prose on the lined page.

“That’s kind of killing the mood, bud,” Arlo said.

“I’m not your bud,” Phil said, jotting down another line and grinning happily at whatever trash he’d quietly composed this time. “Carry on. Don’t mind me. Just pretend that I’m not here.”

“I don’t know how much longer I can hold this pose,” Arlo said. His arms were starting to shake slightly from holding himself carefully above Gillian. He didn’t dare actually touch her. She might just knee him in the crotch if he so much as brushed against her stomach by exhaling too deeply.

“The Galwayn Knight slid two of his tentacles up her sides, the soft puck puck of suckers sliding and popping over her flesh echoed in the air lock. ‘Kiss me!’ she shouted, grabbing the perfect orb of his