Lost in Your Eyes (MxM)

Chapter 1: No Day Like Today

~Photo of Preston Larks above~

ALEXANDER
~*~*~

Beep..... Beep..... Beep.....

A fax machine. Mr. Larks had a fax machine. A freaking fax machine. Who carried fax machines anymore? Wasn't that why cellphones were invented?

I couldn't help but stare awkwardly at the bulky piece of machinery. It was definitely a foreign object to me. My mother had one back when I was just a small kid, but I hadn't seen one since.

My heart dropped into my stomach and I nearly jumped out of my skin when Mr. Larks' secretary walked through the door to the office. I couldn't remember her name, but I think it started with an S? S... Saaa.... Samantha? No, Sandra... Saoirse? Ssssshamalamadingdong. Shut up, brain.

"Alright, Mr. Richards, you're all set for the job. So here are the requirements," she said and handed me a packet. "It is mandatory that you go through each page, thoroughly. You will be assisting Mr. Larks four days out of the week, every week. Usually those days will be Monday, Tuesday, Friday, and Sunday, unless you're told otherwise. Your shift will start an hour after you finish college classes, so you are expected to be here every day at two o'clock sharp. No later. You will work from two to either nine or ten o'clock at night, unless further instructions have been given.

"Part of this job includes mild up-keep, such as cooking or cleaning. Helping Mr. Larks is your top priority. You will also send faxes, write emails, and update him on his company's reports, as well as read to him what he receives in response. No strings attached, Richards. Questions are not allowed. Your pay will start at twenty dollars an hour. Another job you will perform is when Mr. Larks requests to be taken somewhere, whether in the house, or out, you are to guide him. He refuses to use a guide dog or a walking stick. You must act as his eyes. Do I make myself clear?"

Explain to me again what the point was of giving me the packet if she just practically laid it all out for me right then and there? But I wasn't going to object. I needed this job desperately and my landlord was already threatening to kick me out of my apartment. I needed the money more than a stray dog needed food. I was a man at the end of his ropes. Well, boy. I don't think I was old enough to be considered a man.

Shaking my head, I looked up at the woman in front of me, who'd begun to tap her heel impatiently. My eyes widened and I cleared my throat as I replied, "Y-Yes, very clear ma'am. Loud and clear. I understand completely."

She just stared at me for a minute or two. The type of stare that sends icicles straight through your heart and makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. Then, with a huff, she turned back to her planner and began to jot down what I could only think was a gradebook on my poor sense of professionalism. I might be exaggerating.

"It's Sara, by the way." Ah, there was her name. The one I'd hopelessly forgotten. I blushed, mentally smacking myself for being so rude. She turned back to me and beckoned with her hand, stepping out of the office. "Follow me, Mr. Richards. We'll begin with the tour."

Sighing quietly, I forced myself to pull it together and walked after her. Already, I had embarrassed myself for forgetting a simple name and spacing out. It didn't help that my nerves were on edge. I had to stuff my hands in my pockets to keep myself from biting my nails. The feel of my clammy palms against the material of my slacks was equivalent to nails on a chalkboard.