The roar of jet engines was a wonder like no other. Three women stood in front of the sleek, private jet, expressions and dresses different. Mary was smirking and commanded attention in a tailored black pantsuit. Her blazer had sharp shoulders and a nipped-in waist, paired with high-waisted trousers that flared slightly at the bottom. A large brown coat hung over her shoulders, which
With her expensive black stilettos, the tarmac seemed almost shameful.
Hair in a ponytail, Isabella played the part of the savvy, fashionable assistant. She wore a sleek, fitted pencil skirt in a deep navy blue, paired with a crisp white blouse that was tucked neatly in. Over this, she had a cropped blazer in a matching navy blue. Her look was punctuated by a delicate silver watch and a pair of stud earrings.
Ophelia was the most changed—and most unrecognizable. Low-heeled pumps, a tailored beige trench coat that cinched at the waist, and beige everything except for her white shirt. Her hair went from textured to smooth, a blonde bob that Anna Wintour would approve of.
"Operation Infiltrate Silicon Valley…start!"
Isabella blinked twice. "Where the fuck did you get a jet?"
Mary put on a pair of oversized sunglasses. "I am severely in debt."
"Jesus, Mary."
"Thou shall no—"
"Shut the fuck up, Mary."
Mary smirked and motioned for them to board the jet. The interior was as luxurious as one would expect, with plush leather seats and a fully stocked bar. The girls settled into their seats, the engine hum turning into a distant background noise as they took off.
"Okay, wait, let's walk back, there's a bar in here!" Isabella exclaimed.
"Broke much?"
"Yes."
"I can call the flight attendant over. She can cook up a mean fat-washed mezcal…" Mary saw the expression on Ophelia's face. "But we won't. We have a mission, after all."
Ophelia relaxed. Mary was glad to see it. She decided to sit beside the blonde and point at the view outside. Since they had just started flying, they could see the Bay.
"We can see our house from here," Ophelia said with a smile. "Wow…"
The view was breathtaking. Humbling, if that word existed in Mary's dictionary. It didn't, luckily.
The flight was smooth, and before long, they were descending into Silicon Valley. The jet taxied to a halt and Mary peeked out the window. A fancy black limo awaited them, its driver standing by the open door.
Isabella was already over her shoulder, eyebrow raised. "Let me guess, also paid via debt?"
Mary flashed a confident smile. "It's all about appearances."
With that, she confidently strode out of the jet and into the limo, Isabella and Ophelia following closely behind. Ophelia seemed noticeably tense. Her knuckles were white as she gripped her purse, her eyes pointed down. The thought of their mission triggered her agoraphobia, and she swallowed hard, taking deep breaths to calm herself.
"I can do this…I can do this…"
Mary gave her a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder. Ophelia jolted, surprised, and tried to muster a smile to show her appreciation. Even with it, she failed to hide her nervousness.
The limo ride through Silicon Valley was a blur. Mary sat back and soaked it all in while keeping an eye on Ophelia. They finally arrived at their destination: a towering, glass-walled building that screamed tech industry success.
Delta Incorporated.
Like in a movie, Isabella and Ophelia stepped out of the limo donning sunglasses. Mary exited last and led the way. Isabella and Ophelia followed like a hunting pack.
Security at the entrance barely gave them a second glance. Mary's cocky smile was balanced by her careful choice of words. Never forthcoming and very casual. She had done this before, technically.
"An appointment with Mr. Johnathon," Mary said casually. "Can you inform him? Knowing him, he's been too busy and forgot."
"Yes, ma'am."
She was saying this while being scanned by security for metal. Each beep was easily explained. Expensive bracelet, buttons, and her purse were lined with diamonds.
Mary didn't say a word and that spurred the security to skip the second check. The ordinary workers had to toss keys and phones and everything else into the basket before going through the metal detector.
Mary just walked through it, activating the damn thing, and wasn't stopped.
But it wasn't like she hadn't done this. It was true she had regurgitated such information many times. The only difference from her previous explanations was that they weren't lies. This was. Mary was lying through her teeth about having an appointment.
It was the same for Isabella and Ophelia. Mary's natural authority blanketed them too. Soon, they were inside the elevator and going up to the top.
"Can I ask why you didn't go for an appointment?" Isabella asked.
"Like I know his phone number," Mary retorted.
"You could call the office."
"Like I know its address."
"How are you even rich?"
"By not being you."
The elevator doors slid open, revealing a lavishly decorated office floor. They walked down a long corridor and stopped in front of a set of imposing double doors. Unfazed, Mary pushed them open and they stepped into the CEO's office.
The room was massive, with floor-to-ceiling windows offering a panoramic view of Silicon Valley. Behind a large, mahogany desk sat the CEO, a middle-aged man with salt-and-pepper hair and a sharp suit. His eyes narrowed in recognition as they fell on Mary.
"Mary. It's been a while," he said, hands together in an arch.
"Hello, Jonathan," Mary replied, taking a seat from across. "It has indeed."
Isabella and Ophelia stood a step behind her, their sunglasses neutralizing their expressions. Inside, they were relieved they had made it this far without a hitch. But now came the hard part: selling Mary's stocks without revealing how desperate she truly was.
*****
Girlfriend #3: Mary Guirola
Height: 5'10
Weight: 140 lbs
Date of Birth: September 11
MBTI: ESTJ-A
Representative Colour: Black & Red
Favourite Food: Yerba Mate, Cava, Pa amb tomaquet (Catalan Tomato Bread)