Rose ends up in a tunnel... Cats and Mice chapter 5 by aquarelle

She slid along the baseboard, eyeing Ioana’s feet, which were still flexing in their mules; the shoes appeared positively strained, there was a slight pudginess to this woman, and she could, maybe, use slightly wider shoes, but how many manufacturers out there even bother designing multiple widths these days? Not too many, Rose thought, wondering if Ms. Purcell just didn’t care to get something that would fit her better, or if she could not afford to, and if it was the latter, than maybe that’d be a good reason to just stay back and wait until Ioana, inevitably disappointed, leaves the café. Because as Rose moved along the baseboard, as she approached that invisible perpendicular line connecting the toe of Ioana’s shoe–the toe that kicked Rose–that space between the baseboard and the feet looked less and less like a comfortable amount of space. Truthfully, were it Rose’s choice, she’d never ever in her life get within a foot of a foot… that thought made her giggle, which was possibly a sign of deteriorating mental faculties, and so she kept going.

Crossed that line. Moved further. She could not see the screen of the terminal anymore, but she could see the glow. Her bag was right there, leaning against the scuffed wood.

Ioana’s feet definitely smelled. Cheap leather, worn shoes, and, maybe, unwashed feet, mix of sweat and lotion. How does one even interview after something like this? Tell me about yourself! Well, I promise I am usually better about not getting caught underfoot. She was really getting a good look at Ms. Purcell’s feet and ankles, and felt weird, like, how do you talk to a person normally after your first exposure to them is seeing a part of them in great detail–not to mention the kick–and, of course, that could and should be just an accident, something to laugh about, but there is a huge fucking difference between stepping on someone’s foot and stepping on someone, don’t you think?

What added insult to injury was that while Rose was trekking towards the terminal, Ms. Purcell continued her phone conversation. Fortunately, she was no longer talking about Rose, which was maybe a good sign; nothing about Rose not being there, no more squish jokes. No. Instead, Ioana switched to some boring, godawful conversation about her relationship.

“Oh, he doesn’t know, no. I’m sure. I’m pretty sure.”

The he, Rose inferred while she cautiously walked towards that tantalizing terminal glow, was Ioana’s husband; Mrs. Purcell, then, she made the mental correction. Not for much longer, though, perhaps? It was becoming painfully and awkwardly clear that Ioana was cheating on her husband, and was gloating to a friend about it. She had a boy, who was, apparently, showing some claws lately, and was a hottie, as well as a dummy, and, you know, maybe a few months, but I’ll definitely stop it when we start on the VLG project, so many things Rose would have preferred not to overhear. There’s that old adage about how when someone interviews you you are really supposed to interview them back to understand whether the place is right for you; Rose could only imagine the sort of a privileged, normal-sized asshole who came up with that, since she certainly felt in no position to “interview” her employer, but there was a nugget of truth there, she’d already seen and heard enough to not want to work for Ioana Purcell, and yet she’d have to make a good impression and convince the giant woman that she did…

Mrs. Purcell let out a heart laugh and sorta shook in her seat, and suddenly both her feet moved closer to the wall, left crossed over right. Rose screamed as the sole of the right mule scraped along the floor, stopping mere inches away – Rose’s inches, that is, Ioana’s hot tan skin now within touch. Worse, a shadow fell over Rose, as the left foot was now touching the wall, meaning that its worn sole suddenly became a ceiling to Rose, and the tiny girl was a makeshift tunnel. A musty smell of rubber and dust hit her. She ducked on instinct, afraid of the left foot coming lower.

“Fuck!”

She looked ahead. The terminal was right next to the heel of Ioana’s foot, but to use it she’d practically have to wedge herself between the heel and the wall, not to mention that the heel of the left mule was a little closer to the ground there, too, making for a really tight space. Even worse, Rose’s bag was now partially trapped under Ioana’s shoe, one side of it flattened completely. Rose’s hands clenched into fists so tight her nails dug deep into her palms: god, how she hoped that the crushed side was the one with clothing…

She faced a choice now; she could either keep walking, or try to attract Ioana’s attention by… knocking? Scraping? Biting? The foot right next to her, where some skin was accessible.