“Would you, though?”

“Would I what?”

“Fuck her, dude.”

Mae froze outside the trailer door, holding her clipboard tighter to her chest.

Their voices come through tinny and unreal.

“She’d probably bite my dick off.”

“That’s not a no,” Tom said.

“I mean… those tits…” Mark replied.

Mae looked down at her scoop-neck shirt, then shut her eyes against the the welling tears that seemed to sit so close to the surface these days.

“Hey,” Tom said, “she bites your dick off and maybe you’ll get into one of those diversity programs that forced the studio to get her a job.”

Mae wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, turning to weave her way to her own trailer.

This is, apparently, what everyone is thinking. This morning an exec felt her up and when she called him out, he told her she was overthinking it and to stop being so dramatic. Her mood wasn’t great to begin with.

She made it right in time to meet the PA at her door.

“Your coffee,” Jimmy said.

“Thanks, Jimmy,” Mae said.

“My name is Carl,” Jimmy replied before heading to his next delivery.

Carl was a film nerd and absolutely in love with Tom, so it made sense when she took a sip only to realize the order was wrong.

No one gets Tom’s orders wrong. No, that privilege was for Mae and Mae alone.

She caught up with him.

“I wanted oat milk,” she said.

“Oh. Can you just drink it like that?” Carl asked.

“No.” Mae said as calmly as she could.

“I don’t have time—“

“Get me my damn coffee. You messed up. I’ll wait here until it is back and corrected.”

“Your order is too complicated—“

“FIX MY COFFEE,” Mae yelled. “One more chance and you’ll be fired if you get it wrong again. I’ll make sure no one would give you a job picking up garbage:”

“I—“

“Are you an actual idiot?” Mae asked.

The PA backed up until he nodded and turned around to run.

Ah. Now she felt a little better.