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ＥＩＧＨＴＥＥＮ
𝙃𝙊𝙊𝙆, 𝙇𝙄𝙉𝙀, & 𝙎𝙄𝙉𝙆𝙀𝙍
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The curser on my page blinked at me while I went between looking at it and the words written on the paper on my desk. JB was clicking and clacking away hard at work from behind me. When I first heard this week's prompt for him, I felt bad, but since having been given my prompt, well, now I feel like he got off easy. Vaccinations turning children gay—is that the sort of bullshit the people who watch ATN care about? Is this really the demographic I'm writing for? I don't even know where to start, hence the blinking and staring.
"Having trouble?" Jen asked to the right of me.
I huffed. "You could say that."
"Be happy you don't have to talk about how sexy Tony the fucking Tiger is." JB quipped.
"I still find that easier than the bullshit they've handed me."
"You could always ask for, like, a different story." Jenna offered.
"I'm sure Cyd would love that."
"I actually heard she's out today. Maybe you can switch your stories with someone else. Ravenhead?" She asked.
"Nah, that guy's just here to fuel the bigot flame and read the teleprompter. But maybe you're on to something. Hang on, I'll be right back."
Since I didn't see my lanky friend, I headed toward Tom's office, grabbing the paper off my desk. As I suspected, Greg was sitting by Tom's desk, talking to him. Tom would know where Cyd is, which means Greg would know because Tom tells Greg everything. I knocked on the glass window, and Greg looked up at me. With some quick motioning of my hand, he was out of the office and standing in front of me.
"What's up?"
"Is Cyd out today?"
"I'm pretty sure." He leaned in closer. "Tom won't stop talking about it, so I'd have to assume so. Unless he's, like, gone and tied her up in a closet or something, which honestly, I wouldn't be surprised about." He noticed the conflicted look on my face. "Why?"
I brought the paper up to him. "I'm trying to find a way to get out of writing this."
His eyes danced across the paper; the more he read, the higher his brows rose. "Wow. This is, this—I mean, I can't believe people actually believe this."
"I know, right? I don't care about what ATN puts out there because I never watch it, but I don't want to be personally responsible for some poor kid dying of polio just because their parents heard he might turn into a twink."
Greg nodded sympathetically. "Yeah, I'm quite uncomfortable working in this environment, too." He turned around to spare a glance at his boss. "Tom was making fun of me for it."
"What do you mean?"
"Oh, about, just like having principles. Said that morals are bullshit if you wanna work here."
"Did he really?" I asked, and Greg nodded with a cute frown.
Huh. Why did that make sense? I should be outraged, and I am, sort of. But it's a good mentality if you're working here without a choice. Me and my two friends - none of us really asked to be here. If only it was easy to shut that moral switch off in my brain. I stared at the paper again. I suppose I can give it a shot.
"I still don't understand how this brand mascot is too sexual. Who the hell wants to fuck the Frosted Flakes Tiger?" The cars whizzing past me on the street were loud, but not loud enough to muffle the annoying complaints from JB in my ear.
I huffed into my phone. "Excuse you, his name is Tony the Tiger. And you knew what you were getting into when you signed up for this, 'Roney. So grit your teeth and bare it." Okay, maybe I could've been a little less irritable, but you would be too if you had to baby a fully capable adult. I already do that on a daily basis. For example, just today, my man-child best friend is dragging me along as his "backup" so he can chat with this biographer lady. I kept a tight grip on the back of Greg's jacket while he guided us to the meeting spot, too preoccupied with the pointless conversation on my phone.
"But -"
"Suck it up." I hit the end call button, so hopefully he got the message. Greg stopped abruptly, causing me to run straight into his back with an oof.
"What the hell Greg! You can't just stop in the middle of the sidewalk." I grumbled. We were stranded on a street corner in the Upper West Side of Manhattan, the exact place a forty-something novelist would have us meet. It's a nice and quiet neighborhood, very suspicious of New York City and the exact reason I avoid this area. The only people who'd run into us would be women holding crusty-eyed dogs and people who call themselves "artists."
"Hang on." He faltered while his eyes wandered around our surroundings like a confused sentry. "Uh, okay so, like, don't be mad, but I think I, might be lost?"
I couldn't say I was surprised, given that our journey from the subway station was filled with many sudden pauses and unexpected turn arounds. "But you said you had the GPS on your phone?"
He tapped repeatedly at the screen in his hand, where the map had appeared to be frozen. "Uhh..."
I sighed. "Are you sure we can't just turn around and forget about it?"
His brows bumped together in disbelief as he stared down at me. "What? No, no, no. I already agreed to meet with her."
"Yeah, but, you could always just like... not." Greg's eyes scanned down to my hands, which were currently clipping and unclipping the button on my coat neurotically. I hadn't even realized I was doing it until now. Greg made a face, and I stuffed my hands into my pockets.
"Eleanor, why don't you want to do this?" There was a frankness in his voice, but a flicker of gentle curiosity as well.
I paused to answer reluctantly. "I... - Look, reporters just, make me nervous. That's all."
He gawked at me, which was the exact reaction I didn't want. "But aren't you-"
"Yes I'm a reporter you don't need to tell me!" I barked. His face fell and I faltered. "Sorry, I didn't mean to snap. I just, don't like them because they always have some kind of agenda. And I say that because I know that because I am one. Which is why I avoid talking to them."
He nodded in understanding while rubbing the back of his neck. "Well, I guess we can turn around -"
"No. I need to stop being a baby. I came here to help you, anyways. So, what did you say the name of the place was?"
"Umm, like, Cuciney vano or something?"
I took me two seconds until I found it, because we were standing right in front of it this whole time. Cucina E vino. I rolled my eyes and pushed Greg around, pointing at the words on the window. He laughed in relief, a bit sheepish. "Oh."
The woman inside seemed kind, but overall, a bit dull. I didn't catch her last name because I was too taken by the fact that this was definitely not just an innocent chat that Greg had hoped for. This Michelle lady came here for a full-on dissection; her journal and pen were equipped, a drink had already been ordered, and the expression she wore had that general air of inquisition only a journalist carries. I knew it as soon as her analytical stare followed us walking through the door of the Italian restaurant. And of course she would pick a place this empty too.
"Sure. Uh, but just to be clear, uh, this isn't a meeting. This is a precursor to see if I might be willing to meet." As I tuned back into the conversation, Greg was doing what he did best - tripping over his words. This is why he wanted me here after all; to not say anything stupid.
"Absolutely. You were very clear about your concerns." Michelle sounded amicable, but I didn't buy it.
"Because actually meeting you would be a big step."
"Uh-huh." I felt her eyes trace over to me. Did I introduce myself to her already? Oh yeah, I did, I was just too busy noticing that her and I owned the same tape recorder.
"I'm a time-pressed executive, so before we even get to the ethical considerations, can I eke out time in my calendar?" I eyed Greg funnily. What is this, a way to earn some cred? To look more important on paper? "Um... On the other hand, I... don't think it's too self-aggrandizing to hope I might have some wisdom to impart." Yep, that's what this is.
"There's no time like the present, right?" The reporter smiled dryly.
"It would need to be discreet. I don't wanna make my uncle mad, because he can be, uh... Well, he can be scary, vindictive, paranoid..."
Greg! I kicked his leg from under the table lightly, but it was too late, she already began jotting down his words. I nodded to the table and he peered down at her notebook, brows shooting up. "Wait, I'm sorry. Uh-- No, no, no. None of this--I'm not actually saying that."
"Oh. Would you like this meeting to be on background?"
"But this isn't... You can't say I said anything." Oh my god, Greg.
"But you did." She sent him a patronizing smile. "Look, if you want this to be anonymous, you have to say that from the outset. You can't do that retroactively."
"What?" I butted in. "Now you're just making up rules! Listen, lady, if he wants to be anonymous, then he can be anonymous." An authoritative-like tone resonated in my voice as my eyes pierced into hers. I caught my reflection staring back at me from her glasses. The expression was new on my face, but not unfamiliar to one I had seen before.
The way Michelle narrowed in on me caused me to shrivel up any of the unexpected confidence I had momentarily gained, a thought that both frustrated and relieved me. "And what is exactly your relation to Mr. Hirsch?"
"I don't see how that's relevant." I crossed my arms indignantly.
"Sandy Furness is your father." She put her pen to her lips with a smirk I did not like, and her eyes darted back and forth between me and a Greg, which I really didn't like. "And you two are working together? Interesting."
"She's actually working for Logan." Greg admitted proudly. This time I nudged him hard with a disapproving look, making him wince.
"Yes I already knew that. I just find this," she pointed between the both of us, "compelling."
I scoffed. "What? Me working with him?"
"Just the nature of this relationship in general." Her eyes were calculating.
"I'll stop you there. Him and I, we're good friends who merely work together sometimes, like informants, if you will."
Her single brow rose and I regretted my choice of words. "Not like informant informants. I'm not saying we're undercover journalists sent by my father or something."
"Dude!" Greg said with a glare.
"I wasn't saying that at all." Michelle mused. "You said it."
Greg became rattled. "What, that we're spies? For her dad?"
"I think that's what your partner is implying." Michelle teased. Greg didn't catch her humorous tone, and only noticed her scribbling in her notebook.
"What? That's not it at all. Don't write that! Don't! Stop that! I-I-I I'm not doing any informing of any nature. I am, could, like never be, like, uh, spy. I mean, it'd be cool, yeah, but like, her and I aren't-"
I took his hand in mine, feigning seriousness. "It's okay. We can tell her. C'mon, Rick."
He looked at me like I was crazy. "What? Tell her what? And who the hell is Rick?!"
I looked at Michelle and smiled jokingly. "He's just really in character. Method acting, y'know?" The lightness in her eyes started to fade. I guess she didn't expect for me to keep the joke going. I mean, Greg and I being cooperate spies? C'mon. But perhaps I could mess with her a bit...
"You may joke, but you actually hit the nail on the head. His name isn't even Greg, right, Rick?" Greg remained bewildered.
"Oh, is that so?" The reporter's scrutinizing continued to stay on me.
"Yeah. I'm only telling you because I know you wouldn't breath a word of this to anyone."
She laughed. "Even if this was true, you wouldn't know that."
"But I would. Don't act like you don't know what source protection is; you have a moral obligation as a journalist to protect the identities of your advisers." Greg was watching us with a confused expression.
"You know I would never believe you right?" She smiled smugly. Christ we had gotten off topic.
"Lady, why do you think we met with you? You seriously think we'd be here for any other reason?"
There it was; uncertainty glimmered in her eyes. "Listen, my father has a lot of dirt on Logan Roy already. Why do you think a Furness would be doing this for any reasons other the espionage?"
She blinked. "Well..."
"You don't know, do you? See, I told you. This is completely, serious. Right, Rick?" Greg brows knitted together as he kept staring at me like I'd gone insane. I rolled my eyes. "So, do you want to hear us out or not?"
The woman on the other side of the table paused, I could see the cogs turning in her head. "I suppose I should at least hear what you have to say."
"Great. I guess I should start off by telling you our real names. I'm Eleanor, as you already know, and my partner in crime here is Rick, short for Doderick."
She stopped writing and looked up at me slowly. "Pardon?"
"Doderick, Doderick the Dog. C'mon Rick, show her a trick!"
Silence passed while she just stared at me. Greg sat up quickly with a smile. "Oh! I get it now." He chuckled to himself. "That's funny." If only he could bark.
With a tight scowl she quickly stuffed her things into her bag and shot up. "Thank you for meeting with me. I'll make sure to let all my readers know how immature the two of you are." She spoke rigidly while Greg and I watched her walk away with identical grins. As her heels clicked out the door, I high-fived Greg, even though I did all the heavy lifting. While we laughed, he looked at his phone and his face fell. "What is it?"
"My phone, kind of, just died. Do you think you know the way home?"
"Oh, Doderick, we'll just follow your nose."
The bartender handed me my Old Fashioned. As I slowly brought it to my lips, I paused to look around the club, and my eyes landed on a handsome stranger from across the room. I couldn't even make his face out that well, though, it didn't really matter. After a while of doing the same routine you don't really need to think that hard about it. Our gazes met each others, and I let mine linger for not too long, but just enough to get his attention. I guzzled down my drink, the stranger smiled back, and just like that; hook, line, and sinker.
I'm not sure why I do it. The articles featuring this pass time of mine would sure like to though. The heiress to a media empire spotted with (now up to fifteen!) different men during the month, earning her title as Eleanor 'Floozy' Furness. It's a wonder who actually cared, besides my dad of course.
I'm sure, maybe, that a part of me does it for the satisfaction of ruining everything he built for me. But, I think the main reason I sleep around so much, is the power that it grants me. For each time I catch a stranger, I'm no longer a father's daughter in a world that's already decided for her. Not just an entitled, runaway princess who questions herself more than she lets on. The girl who said goodbye to the only real friend she ever had is forgotten. The so-called floozy I become is a woman fully in control, who knows what she wants, and can get it that evening, sometimes with just a wink and a smile.
Now, it's the morning after, and there's a stranger in my bed. I can't remember who this man is, or how I got him, but then again, the memory of such things are always hazy. He was hidden under my covers, snoring loudly into my ear, even muffled through the sheets. I flipped back over to face the window. Maybe I can take my leave.
And then, out of nowhere, his arm wrapped around my waist, pulling me closer to him. From my lack of clothing, both of our skins weren't just touching, but pressed against each other. One of his legs hooked around mine. The cherry on top of this terrifying act of snuggling was him craning his head into my shoulders with a small, sleepy, sigh.
I went rigid. I am being spooned right now. Spooned. When was the last time I did that? I mean, sure, I've shared a bed plenty of times, but cuddling? That's something you do if you're in a relationship. And I don't cuddle with one-night stands. This poor guy's got the wrong idea, even if he is still asleep. That's it, I am putting my foot down. Well, as soon as I'm able to actually stand up.
Very slowly, I inched toward the edge of the bed and separated our bodies, while carefully lifting his arm off of my stomach. Just as I was about to wrangle my leg out from under his, he pulled me back into his chest again with a sluggish whine.
"It's Saturday, Nory. Stay."
...
Was that who's voice I thought it was?
The man behind me stiffened, and sat up to look over me. It was him. "You okay?"
I just laid there, pressed into his chest and eyeing the arm that was still wrapped around my waist. He seemed totally relaxed like this, while I remained in a comatose-like state I was in. Is this real? His brows etched with concern. "What's wrong? Darling?"
Did he really just use that word?
I shot upward, and fully expected myself to crash into him. That's when reality hit me as I felt myself open my eyes. I was not in my bedroom, but on a plane seat miles up in the air. And it wasn't just any plane, but a private jet, the Roy's private Jet. I guess I dozed off when pretending to be asleep.
Luckily, no one noticed my abrupt wakening, probably because my chair was facing the wall. I still couldn't believe I was here, and not my bedroom, which I'd much rather be after having such a mind-boggling dream.
Logan's voice exploded across the entire cabin when he yelled, "Fuck! Fucking rats! Rats!" I frowned, and watched as Kendall entered our cabin and Greg followed him. Hastily, I crouched my head down and pretended to be asleep again. I did not want to be talking to anyone right now, especially Greg.
"What's going on in there?" He asked to who I'm assuming is Kendall.
"Uh, somebody's trying to write Dad's biography." Fuck.
Greg had a similar reaction. "Oh, shi- Okay. I hadn't heard. That's-- That's interesting. He's not a fan of the old, uh, the old biographical, uh..."
"Yeah, he's not a fan. And, uh, seems like somebody talked."
I couldn't see it, but somehow I could just feel Greg's gaze lingering on my seat. "Okay. That's bad."
"So, yeah. Someone talked. Someone inner-circle." Kendall you have no idea how much Greg is internally freaking out right now. "Sam over there will, uh, smoke 'em out, and, uh, Dad's gonna chop them up and throw them into the fucking Danube."
"Right. Blue Danube no more." Greg chuckled, but even from a mile away could I hear the traces of nervousness in it. I can't imagine what he's thinking right now. Actually, I probably could; 'Oh man I am so gonna get fired I should have never gone to that meeting. Logan's gonna find out and chop me up. This is exactly what I get for not listening to Eleanor when she said to leave that meeting. She is so so so smart and cool I need to follow her more.' Something along those lines, probably.
I felt a hand tap on my shoulder softly, followed by a whispering of, "Nory! Wake up. I need to talk to you."
Ugh, it's way too soon for him to be calling me that name now. I pretended to wake up and let me just say; I'm no DiCaprio, but my acting was stellar. Greg didn't even bat an eye as he crouched near my seat. I spoke in a sleepy voice and threw in a yawn for good measure, "What's up?"
I didn't meet his eyes, or any part of him actually, as I stared up at the ceiling. I couldn't look at him. If I looked at him then the dream would deflate any of my ability to do anything but sit their and gawk.
"We need to talk somewhere private. C'mon, follow me." Oh brother.
Walking through the cabin was easier now, minus the eyes of Roy's goons watching me. When we passed by Roman, he eyed me and my best friend with a suggestive smirk as we went through the hallway to an empty cabin, which just so happened to have a bed. Before Greg shut the door, Roman exclaimed, "These walls are thin!"
I rolled my eyes - not at the quip, but more so at the fact that Roman Roy had to be so crude at the most inopportune time for me. I'm already trying to brush off the dream. Greg noticed my scoff and rubbed the back of his neck. "He's just, messing around. You get used to his jabs after a while."
I sighed, plopping down onto the bed. "Well I don't necessarily favor being mocked all the time."
Greg frowned and looked away. Now I could look at him discreetly. There was a resigned somberness in his expression and in the words that followed, "Well, we really don't have a choice. I got used to it after a while."
I scowled. "Wait, it's not just Tom who makes fun of you?"
"I wouldn't call it that. It's more like, uh, friendly hazing? I don't know. It's mostly Tom and Roman, but sometimes I think its a mutual family thing."
"What makes you think that?"
"Uhh... just like, whenever I enter a room with them or something. It's like the way they look at me? And talk to me too, I guess? They -- they all think I'm just a goof, which isn't the worst thing, I guess. I don't know, Nor. You know me, I'm like, awkward - as you would say. I can put up with it, though."
An old feeling resurfaced as I listened to him. It was a certain inclination that rears it's head on occasion, like when I first heard about Tom, and even when we were with the biography lady. Yet, this feeling goes as far back to the day we met. He sat down on the bed next to me and shrugged. I sent him a sympathetic frown. "Greg. They're your family. They shouldn't be treating you like that."
"Nah, it's all good. I don't mind, really. I think that's just how they treat each other."
I gave him a knowing look and he didn't meet it. "Well, after all of this is over, they'll be the ones sucking up to us."
It was mostly a joke, but my words hung in the air. Greg stared down at the floor with a face I couldn't decipher. This was one of those moments where I wished I could read his mind. I used to be so good at it, but ever since he's shown up on my doorstep, it's like he came back from California with a head made of impenetrable steel. He turned to look at me with sudden seriousness. "Logan found out about the biography thing, and he's pissed. He knows it's someone from his inner circle, and they already got a guy looking for us. Eleanor, we're gonna get fired."
"Greg, we're not gonna get fired."
His mouth turned downward gloomily. "Dude, I emailed her. They're gonna see that."
"Greg, we told her that you were fucking Doderick the Dog. If anyone asks, just tell them exactly what happened - they'll laugh about it. C'mon, chill out."
"I still talked to her." He put his head in his hands dejectedly. I know this attitude of his. Even if I sit here and try to reason with him he's still gonna worry about it nonstop. Unthinkingly I rubbed his back, and when I registered what I was doing, an abrupt and recent memory came to mind; the dream.
It was so vivid. Even through the fabric of his shirt, I can remember how his skin felt on my hands. He would use that pet-name. He would sleep shirtless. And he would totally be a big cuddler. And I dreamt all of that - which means that it had been sitting in the back of my mind for who knows how long, and my brain decided to show it to me. Why did it have to be here, out in the middle of Europe surrounded by suits with guns?
***
Here I am, in yet another grand castle in yet another foreign country, partaking in yet another eccentric and pointless activity. But instead of a wedding, I'm hunting pigs this time—kind of ironic when you're also surrounded by them. I can't tell which is worse. The things I do for... hang on a minute; why am I even here? All I got was a text from Kendall saying Logan wants me come to Hungary with them.
After getting fitted in my hunting attire, I stepped out of one of the many empty bedrooms on the second floor and stood in front of the rails, overlooking the grand estate's foyer. Gerri was standing by the front near the entrance doors, where people trickled in-and-out to the hunting grounds, Greg and Tom included. Judging by the older woman's attire, she wouldn't be hunting. I'm sure I don't need to be either, but I feel obliged to join Greg while he tells Tom our secret. And I need to figure out why Logan asked me here. Descending down the grand staircases - (did they really need two? Half of these people are too old to use them) - I figured Gerri ought to have some answers for me. "Gerri!"
When her eyes landed on me, I was greeted with a polite smile. "Hey, Eleanor."
I made it to the last stair with a shy grin. "You can call me Nora. And it's good to finally meet Waystar's famous corporate lawyer." She looked at me with impassivity and didn't respond. "So, uh, do you know the point of all this?"
She smirked slightly. "Is that supposed to be some kind of existential question?"
"No, I just mean, like, why we're all here."
"It's a corporate retreat."
"Yeah, but I'm more curious as to why Logan asked me to come."
"You can always ask him yourself."
"And talk to the cranky old man with a rifle in his hand? No thanks." I got her to chuckle briefly, making me relax a little. "This is supposed to be a retreat, but there's so much tension in the air. It feels more like a hostage situation."
Her eyes narrowed slightly, and then she spoke more quietly. "Logan's thinking of acquiring PGM. Some of the others here are having doubts."
The last time Logan and I talked one-on-one, he asked me to help with this acquisition. I guess that his plan is in motion. "Oh, so this is him gauging all of us."
She tilted her head. "Essentially."
"Well, thank you for keeping me in the loop." I stepped through the doors, and turned around to address the older woman. "Have you ever seen Legally Blonde?"
My question took her by surprise. "Um, I can't recall."
I gave her one of my sincerest smiles. "We should watch it together sometime. I'll see you around." I'm sure the look she wore when I turned away was confused, but I meant what I said. I only have a few allies in this place. My most loyal one is currently on the verge of being outed as a rat. Then there's his boss, who's only being nice to me to for Shiv. Kendall and I don't really acknowledge each other, and I'm only here because of the mutual hatred Logan and I share for my dad. Gerri could be a good card to have in my deck.
One of the lead hunters, a man with a vaguely European accent, handed me the gun. I held it away from me while I inspected it. It's crazy you can kill people with these. "It's not gonna bite you, Eleanor." Tom's voice came from behind the rows of cars, and Greg towed behind. He'd been sporting the same anxious demeanor since we got off the plane.
"I'm just afraid of shooting my foot or something." The European man wordlessly topped my head with a sickeningly neon orange hat and did the same to the two men. Greg picked up his rifle and looked over it with a similar wonder as me.
"First time holding a gun?" Tom asked. Greg nodded.
"That's not true." I argued. "What about our seventh-grade camping trip where the girls rode horses and the boys shot skeets? Remember when I made a bet with the boys that whoever shot the most skeets could kiss me?"
"Wow, you really are promiscuous." Tom chuckled to himself while the three of us began walking through the tall blades of wheat. I ignored Tom's comment.
Greg rubbed the back of his neck with embarrassment. "Oh, uh, I actually got out of having to do that."
"What, did you hide under your bunk bed?"
"Pretty much." He sheepishly replied.
Walking down the field, I looked at the rifle in my hands again. My two companions were so tall. I felt tiny next to them, and the killing device in my hands felt out of place. They barely gave us a safety briefing before handing us these things. "We're not expected to shoot anything, right?"
Tom turned to me. "Don't you know? If you don't catch dinner, they make you eat outside. Maybe if you're lucky, we'll toss you some scraps." I rolled my eyes. It was weird having this repour with him. I have no doubt his recent friendliness is Shiv's doing, but it's nice to be in on the Tom and Greg antics for once. He still only calls me Eleanor, though. I've given up correcting him, it's probably just to get under my skin anyways.
"This is nice." Tom started. "Europe. Nice bit of war-torn, spooky, anti-Semitic, vampirey, authoritarian Europe." Tom was giving heavy uncle at the function trying to fit in vibes, so I chose not to respond.
"Yeah." Greg replied absentmindedly.
"Hey, Greg, it's good to see you, man. You're spending so much time hanging out with Kendall, a girl could start to wonder." Tom enthusiastically gripped Greg on the shoulders. Tom is so possessive of him.
Greg shared a look with me briefly, and I nodded encouragingly while I stood in between them "Listen. Uh... So--Yeah, c-- can I ask you something? On the-- On the friend level?" I patted him gently on the back again, and then quickly moved my arm away. I have to stop doing that.
"Yeah. You worried about..." Tom trailed off and eyed me cautiously.
"I already know about Cruises."
A sliver of annoyance cast upon Tom's face. "Well, is that was this is about?"
"What we did? No. No. Uh... No. I was gonna ask you about this Sam guy. Do you know him?" It's strange hearing Greg try to seem so clueless, especially when you're the only one here who can tell he's exaggerating his naivety.
"Rat-fucker Sam? Yeah, sure. You know he background-checked me before I started dating Shiv?"
"You guys really call him that?" I asked in disbelief.
"Wow. Yeah. So, what's his--Is he-- Like, what's his competency? Is he-- Is he nice?" Greg pushed.
"Is he nice? You're asking about the moral character of a man named Rat-fucker Sam? He is a fucking piece of fucking shit, is what he is. Yeah. What's up, Greg?"
Greg chewed the inside of his lip and looked around. He's trying to hype himself up, I think. We had talked about this before, and we agreed we should tell Tom. "We've been through a bit, right? Can I trust you?"
"Yes. Of course you can trust me. To a point, yes." I have no doubt that Tom Wambsgans could not be trusted, but I also knew he wouldn't throw Greg under the bus. He knew about Cruises.
"So, you know how Logan's mad someone talked to his biographer?"
"Greg." Tom caught on quickly, and then eyed me. Greg continued.
"So... I'm wondering how likely it is that Sam will find out the person emailed from a private email."
"Oh, fuck, man. Really?"
"I didn't even meet her. I didn't-- I pre-met her. She-- She tried to turn the pre-meet into a meet-meet, so I left."
"Yeah, and, we didn't even tell her anything valuable. I straight up told her his name was Doderick the Dog." I added.
"We?" Tom stepped back, mouth agape with an amused smile. "Oh, my-- If you-- If you tell Logan, he might kill both of you." No he wouldn't. Greg and I are both trophies Logan is carrying around to spite the men in his life he dislikes; His brother, Ewan, and his company's rival.
"You need to put that in the locker, man, and don't tell anyone. And pray that you can trust me, 'cause you just handed me a valuable piece of capital. Greg! Buddy. Trust no one, ever." From Tom's words, Greg looked worriedly over at me, and I sent him a reassuring smile. We'll be okay.
***
Greg and I were perched on wooden towers above a field. There weren't enough of them, so me and him had to share - which I'm pretty sure is not safe at all. This is completely ludicrous. They're sending out pigs for us to shoot, which basically defeats any of the challenge. This isn't even real hunting. Greg was holding the rifle in his hand while we waited. The others brought their guns up, so reluctantly, I did too.
A horn blew, and a pack of pigs came running out of the bushes. I watched as the one in front of sprinted quickly into the gravel path between us. The gun in my hands went off. I watched as the pig toppled over with a bloodcurdling squeal and it's piggy friends ran past it. "Good shot, Eleanor!" Tom exclaimed. The cries continued, and someone, I don't know who, shot it again, and the squealing had come to a stop.
A couple more pigs ran past, the whistle blew, and it was over. That was it? Dogs crowded around the dead animal in the middle of the road, while the hunters shoo'd them away so they could pick it up. I looked around at the faces that stared at me. Someone cheered from a far away tower, and the appraisals drowned out when I set my gun down and looked up at Greg.
I must've looked rattled, because his expression went from excitement to concern. "Are you okay?" He asked softly.
The pig's screams replayed in my ears. I wasn't even trying to aim for it, but I must've. It was a complete accident. "I killed it, Greg."
He frowned. "I'm sorry, Nory. At least we can eat inside?"
I ignored the joke, and stared at my hands.
***
"Even if you study hard for the LSAT, it's not that easy to just get into Harvard."
"Elle Woods did it."
Gerri made a face. "And she's a fictional character. I don't know. Maybe the LSAT's have gotten easier in recent years. Ask your sister."
I laughed. "I'm pretty sure Sandi cheated on hers. It's a wonder she managed to pass the bar."
Gerri smiled briefly. I honestly couldn't tell if I was charming her ear off and annoying her. Nevertheless, I needed something to do while we stood around outside. I needed to get this gun out of my hand. It was getting dark out, someone might shoot someone! Cyd approached us while the camera man had started setting up.
"Hi boss!" I cringed at myself. I sounded too much like Tom there.
"Nice to see you, kid." Cyd responded. Gerri somehow managed to float away to another gaggle of people. "How'd you like the story I gave you?"
I rose a brow. "That was you?" She nodded, with a small smirk. "What - are trying to wear me down?"
"Just helping you get you used to your environment. But the story ran well, you did good."
I wanted to shudder. Writing alt-right stories and killing animals? "Alright hunters! Let's start lining up!" The camera man yelled. I watched from the side awkwardly while people got into position. Logan Roy approached my side.
"Come stand with us." He said simply.
I looked around. "Are you sure?"
Logan paused, and then cracked a smile. "You know, your dad's gonna see this picture. How terrible that his daughter prefers the Roy family over his."
I caught his joking tone, and gave him a grin. "Hard to say no to that."
While we lined up in front of the picture, Tom shoved me playfully. "How does it feel knowing you caught our meal?"
My stomach fell. "We're actually eating it?"
The camera flashed. I need to get out of that dinner.