MJ Goes Down

We were surrounded by them, a small army of corporate fembots in Ann Taylor suits and Kate Spade shoes who doubled as informants for the bosses.  MJ had a code name for each of them that she'd use in her emails or texts, when one of them was up to no good. "Gucci Pants in the vending machine corner on her cell phone.  Whispering.  Someone's busted!"  "Peep Show  complaining that we take too long on our work.  She really needs to button up her shirt."   MJ was as tough as steel.  She worked like a machine, she could drop … Continue reading