Happy Merry Everything (Charlie Barber)

Secrets pt. 2

You tucked into respective dishes, the sweet aroma of coffee being ground and percolating delighting your senses. Charlie, in his voracious nature, finished before you had a chance to make it past your yogurt's fruit. You scooped out another bite as you watched his eyes dart between your yogurt and the croissants. You offered a taste, but he waved it away as he continued ogling the croissants. You nudged the bag containing the almond croissant closer. "Food is for eating," you smiled. "Don't wait for me if you're still hungry."

From the start of your morning, you knew you and Charlie would part ways at the subway, but what you hadn't planned on was an impromptu trip post breakfast to Doughnut Plant. You didn't mind. The walk was nice and the detour only meant more time together. While he was busy picking up a few goodies for his cast and crew, you decided to follow suit and grabbed a dozen for you and Jules to nibble on during the table read. The doughnuts were for other staff writers too, but knowing Jules and her "dibs" rules, the others would get what was left. In fact, if it weren't for you so confidently knowing Lorne would order everyone dinner, you would grab another box or two.

With the single box in your hand as Charlie balanced his two, you kissed one goodbye and went your separate ways. You knew you were early and making great time on the train, but it wasn't until you physically arrived at Rockefeller Plaza that you realized just how much time you had to spare. Much to your surprise, everything ran more smoothly at this hour. There was no wait at security, no testing out your pastry box balancing act while simultaneously digging for your work badge. Even the halls were quiet save for a page and small group of tourists and the office space you shared with Jules was just as peaceful. Though things would become bustling over the next couple of hours, for now you could enjoy the silence and maybe a La Croix. You took your laptop from your bag and booted it up; you needed to review your sketches and prepare your notes for the table read. For now, the pink box of doughnuts took up residence on Jules' desk.

Try as you might not to worry over your sister, you couldn't contain yourself. Once you unlocked your computer, you checked the time and opened the messages app.

Last message received:

Congradulashons! You been regustered to won in iPhone for you in three3 friends. Click the lunk to inter!

Fucking spam. You sighed and blocked the number.

Still nothing from Nina.

Rather than sit idly by, you decided to take matters into your own hands. You selected Nina's name from your list of messages and took a deep breath, cracking your knuckles. The flashing text bar was taunting you as much as it egged you on, blinking and beckoning you to draft up a text. Just one more. One last message. You'd send one last message and then you were done. You had to be. Deep down you knew there was no sense in playing round after round of phone tag, explicitly not when this was to be expected. It was like dealing with a secret agent, only this one didn't give you anything to work with. No codes or gadgets, just the flourish of a stack of blank papers as she ran for the door. The click-clack of the keys was deafening in the otherwise noiseless room. You were so on edge a rolling cart being pushed past your door made you jump. You needed this. Whatever these feelings were, you needed to get them out. You needed a clear head before it was time to be professional. The host this week was pulling double-duty, novice host and musical guest. It was not an easy feat for anyone, uniquely not a member of the First Timers Club. They would need a lot of handholding, more so than others, but you knew the week was full of potential. The audience members attending Saturday's performances would be a different story. You hoped the material would be enough if talent alone wouldn't suffice. Your eyes focused on the screen again, scanning over your message before you hit enter and blew it away. You weren't going to think about it anymore. There was work to be one.