At No Time || Bruno Mars

37

The dull presence of fresh sunlight poured gently through the airplane window. Trystan sat in her seat, her head resting against the back of it, her hands folded loosely on top of her journal. New instrumentals slid into her ears from her headsets and she trusted the smooth intonations would inspire her writing.

She tried to straighten out the small frown that had sewn itself on her face. The thought of seeing Peter soon quelled only slightly the uneasiness settled in her stomach. She shifted uncomfortably, and her booklet fell from off her lap open-faced. She quickly bent over to retrieve it, and was a little less than shocked to see the page it had fallen onto.

When I look at you,

I see nothing but light.

The words stared back at her, and she gently traced them with the tip of her finger. The words were soothing, but her thoughts had been in a disarray for the entire week, and she was upset that she and Peter's getaway had not started off exactly as planned.

Peter was unable to schedule their trip as quickly has he had wanted, something to do with Kimioko forcing him to go to brunches and events to further promote her fashion line that he could not get himself out of. Trystan would have been fine with the postponement had what happened the day before not chilled her to the bone.

Trystan did not think it would have been an issue to meet with Benson after hours; he had made it pretty clear that he was available any time of the day, and that if she needed anything, to ask him. She had not been capable of meeting him earlier than then—her afternoon hours had been spent with Angelique shopping for reasons she would not disclose. She and Benson scheduled to meet at seven o'clock that evening, neither too late or too soon after closing time. She pulled into the Vivacity garage and stepped out her car, files in hand as she went on her way to go discuss lyric crediting business with him about a future song.

The steps she took to get to his office began with purpose, but slowed as her ears began to pick up noises that were not quotidian to the after-hours of the large building.

She heard murmuring voices that could not have been the mumbling from janitors as they sung quietly to the music they played through their earphones as they mopped. No, the voices she heard were stressed, and her stomach tightened in nervousness, if not panic.

The whispers grew louder as she neared Benson's door, and she found it slightly cracked. She quieted her footsteps and waited outside the aperture, hoping to figure out what on earth was going on and to see if she should simply leave or intervene.

The undertones were different—one was of forceful coaxing and the other was whimpering. It was clearly Benson's voice doing the cajoling, but Trystan could not make out who seemed to be crying.

She slyly peeked through the small slit between the double doors and had to keep from gasping aloud at what she saw.

Elle Marie was pinned between Benson and his desk, her balsa skin tone reddened as her puffy eyes dripped tears. Benson groped her, whispering harshly into her ear before trying to kiss her. She moved her face away and his lips landed on her cheek, much to his aggravation.

"Look," he said and grabbed her face just as harshly. "You want to keep this record deal, don't you?"

At those words, Trystan knew she had to interfere. Her views of Benson then had turned so sharply that her nails were stabbing the files she planned to show him. If she had not her right mind, she would have stormed in and asked what the hell he thought he was doing and taken Elle Marie away. No record deal was worth the harassment. However, thinking of the younger woman's welfare and how embarrassed she would be at being caught in such a compromising position, Trystan stepped away from the crack of the door so she would not be seen. Then she knocked as she normally would, and waited to be invited in.