Society Girl (An Alastor x African-American Reader)

Don't Be Bemused It's Just The News

"(L/N), I'm glad you decided to get here on time." said your boss, taking a long drag out of his cigar while looking out of the window. He had dragged you into his office after spotting you in the lobby, claiming that he had an important project for you to work on.

He was a short, chubby white man, with thin brown hair that barely covered up the impending balding upon his head. He had a bit of a snappy temper and tended to yell a lot at your co-workers for 'always messin' things up!

But despite his lack of patients, (and constant termination threats) he did give credit when it was due, and treated you with respect behind closed doors where questionable eyes couldn't reach, and judgemental ears couldn't hear. 

Knowing this, you were relatively calm sitting in the stiff chair that was in front of his large oak desk. The room itself was quite large, containing everything that a person in charge would need. Various items such as a phone, a broze name plate that said 'Harold Higgins', important documents, and an ashtray sat on the polished wood. The typewriter was in the far left corner of the room, resting on a small desk next to the water dispenser.

"Yes Sir. My Mama used to say if you're on time, then you're late."

He grunted in agreement. And turnt his head to face you.

"You hear 'bout those killin's that have happen' by the bayous?

A nod was your response. "Yes I do, the last one I remember happened not too far away from where I live. Folks kept themselves away from that bayou for weeks until all the excitement settled down."

You definitely remembered the bayou killings. They had begun not too long after you gained your secretary position at the newspaper office building, The Harold. Being one of the best colored typers in the building and living right next to the crime scene at that time gave you the best scoop you had written by far. Luckily, your eyes weren't scared too much at the sight of the bloody body, but it did make you sleep with a chair underneath your bedroom door with one of your Daddy's rifles next to your bed frame for a month.

Not that you were afraid or anything, it was just for extra precaution.

Mr.Higgins walked back over to the desk, taking a seat in his chair while sniffing out the cigar in a small glass ashtray. "Well, Luie was out yesterday with his cousin and came across a dead body floatin' in the one down by that jazz club. Cops came n' said that it was the Bayou Killer that had done it."

Your eyes widened in shock. "But I thought they had someone is custody," You said with a small waver in your voice. "That man who works at the automobile factory, James Parkette."

Mr. Higgins shook his head and folded his hands on his desk. You could see the bags under his eyes, the stress of trying to keep up with accurate news was quite difficult, especially with a story that kept on changing.

"I had thought so too (L/N), but apparently Williams ain't our man." He sighed and ran a hand over his head. "The police are 'sposed to be lettin' him go tomorrow morning and I want you to be with Luie while he interviews him."

You blinked owlishly at your boss with all the respect in the world. Of course you were flattered by the offer but, you had only ever worked inside the office. Never before had you been a tag-a-long for an interview with a colored reporter, much less with a caucasian man!

"U-Uh, with all due respect Mr. Higgins" You stammered. "I-I don't think I'm qualified to do something like this, especially with no prior experience."

The fat man chuckled for a second, finding your confusion humorous. He had been expecting that response from you, knowing that you didn't like leaving your comfort zone unless you wanted to or had too.

This time he was going to make you.

"Figured you'd say somethin' like that, but I'm not takin' no for an answer. You're going whether you like it or not." He said, trapping you from trying to wiggle your way out of this situation.

"Yes Sir." You sighed.

Mr. Higgins got up from his chair and grabbed a stack of papers, handing them too you with a stoic face.

"Good. Now get to work on these articles, Tommy called out sick today and I need a fast typer to make up for his absence."

You stood and took the papers, giving a single closed eye nod, you felt a hand on your shoulder and locked eyes with your boss. He gave it a soft pat and turned back towards his desk.

"You'll be fine (Y/N). I ain't got time to set you up to fail..." He mumbled.

You smiled softly. "Thank you Sir." And with that, you walked out of his quarters and into your cubicle in your section of the floor. Finding your cubicle, your cracked your knuckles and got to work on your typewriter on the latest reports.