Some people hate spiders, others hate surprises... Y/n hates to wake up late in the morning, don't get this wrong, she is absolutely not an early bird, she doesn't need to wake up at impossible hours of the morning to work out and do anything before having breakfast. But that didn't mean that she liked waking up 20 minutes before work, because even if she didn't do a lot before feeding herself she still had a lot to take care of before going to work.
The light from the morning sun filtered through the big windows of her one room apartment in the middle of New York, it had been shining in her face for a while before she finally wake up, confusion in her expression. Why was the light shining on her face? What time was it? She looked to the side at her alarm clock showing 12:00 in bright red neon lights, the lines in her face tightened in more confusion, she then grasped at her phone and checked the time.
"Shit!" She jumped out of bed throwing her blanket backwards. She was late and her boss was going to kill her.
It took her around 10 minutes to get ready, with no time for breakfast. Slid out of her silky shirt and shorts, right into her white puffy office dress, shoes with heels not too high and purse hanging from her shoulder. She ran out passing by the fire department, turning the corner to get to usual coffee shop. When she entered she was greeted with the longest line she had ever seen and comical Christmas songs about how you should always hope for the best.
"What?" She had never seen so many people in the shop, it probably was because this wasn't her usual time to pass by. Thankfully god had angels walking between the mortals.
"Y/n, Hey!" From behind the counter a head popped to the side, a guy with brown hair and a short cut called for her, smiling sweetly like every morning. She skipped the line walking up to him that gave her usual order. "Here you go, your regular black coffees."
"You literally saved my life, thank you. Thank you." She grasped softly at the paper cups, decorated with Santas and jingle bells, and then wizzed out. She had a 5 minutes advantage over her boss with the work place just on the other side of the road. She run between the cars clogged in traffic, the drivers honking left and right at her abrupt passing. "Sorry." It wasn't like they could hear her.
She slid in a group of people entering the building and managed to get in a elevator without having to wait for the coming of who knows which saint. While doing so she crushed on the half closing doors. "Everyone ok?"
She asked to the three men of her department that happened to be in the elevator box with her. "Yeah." Was the reply of one of them.
"Me too."
She power walked out of the elevator catching the eye of the front desk secretary. "Cutting it close, Y/n" Yep Y/n was almost late, thank god again for the barista's kind heart.
"One of those mornings. Thanks tho, Captain Obvious." She chuckled walking passed her, head turned so she could see the other girl reaction at the joke. Sadly she run into someone, one coffee spilling all over her. "Sweet Jesus!"
She stepped back from one of her colleagues giving out new manuscripts to every desk, this guy always went around with his little cart filled with yellow files that contained all the stories that were to be reviewed or sent to print. Her face was not happy, it was indeed a stressful morning and this was the last few drops of her patience. "Sorry. I didn't see you there." They both said together. Around the rest of the coworkers were either laughing or trying to calm Y/n down with a joke. "Rub some dirt on it, sweetheart."
She stared him down making him gulp in guilt, she walked forward to her desk that was just outside the main office of the floor, manuscripts ready to give to her boss flooding the wooden surface, she groaned setting down the remaining cup of coffee and looked around searching for someone. Bridget.
"Bri! I need the dress of your back, literally." She urged walking to her desk, dodging the Christmas Tree making the side pseudo-corridor slimmer on a small portion. The girl looked at her up and down from her sitting position, beige dress hugging her curves and most importantly free of stains.
"Ain't no way girl."
"The Glass Menagerie, Gershwin Theatre, this Tuesday, two company seats for your dress. You have five seconds to decide. Five, four, three, two, one." Bridget acted in seconds.
———
On the other side of the block, several hours before all this, the watch on someones wrist beeped once, loudly, alerting that it was time to have a shower and some breakfast. The person wearing it shut it of pressing a small button on the side, dropped flat on his stomach rolling a bit to the side to make the weight on his back fall side ways, a notebook under his face. You'll never catch him waisting time, even when exercising, pull ups in this case, he would slide in a manuscript to read and review.
The man showered, dressed up and had a bowl of cereals and milk in complete silence, no need to talk with himself or even listen to the radio, just a manuscript in hand whenever he could.
When he got out he finally connected himself to the world, phone in hand he was already on call. "Hello, Frank. How's my favorite writer?" Only he understood what Frank from the other side of the phone said. "Of course you've been thinking about our talk. Because you know I'm right."
"Frank, people in this country are busy, broke, and they hate to read. They need someone they can trust to say, 'hey! Don't watch CSI: Indianapolis tonight. Read a book! Read Frank's book. And that person is Oprah."
"Frank, the truth is that all A-plus novelists do publicity. Roth, McCourt, Russo and...... Ok Frank! Can I tell you what else they have in common? A Pulitzer......... Yes! You'll not regret it Frank." The guy smiled at the phone as soon as he ended the call, browsing through massages and emails. He got off the elevator and a murmuring invaded the floor where seconds before people were chatting lively, rustles and people rushing to their sits, computers digging one after the other while he walked by, hushes about talking later and people faking answering the phone. Like he wouldn't notice that they are faking in front of him.
He turned the corner to enter the main office, HIS office, Y/n dusting a beige dress, the one coffee in hand, manuscripts that were on her desk now neatly set on his. "Morning, boss. You have a conference call in 30 minutes."
"Yes. About the marketing of the spring books. I know." He replied taking the coffee while giving her his leather bag, she set it on a glass table equally flooded with stories and followed him.
"Staff meeting at 9:00." She continued to inform, it was her job as an assistant.
"Did you call, um... what's her name again? The one with the ugly hands."
"Janet."
"Yes, Janet." He set on his table setting down the cup of coffee, reaching for a stuck of paper to start his work
"Yes. I did call her. I told her that if she doesn't get her manuscript in on time you won't give her a release date." She followed clearing his table from a stack of files that weren't supposed to be there. "Also your immigration lawyer called. He said it's imperative-..."
Her boss interrupted her. "Cancel the call, push the meeting to tomorrow and keep the lawyer on the sheets. Oh, and get a hold of PR and have them start drafting a press release, Frank is doing Oprah."
"Wow. Nicely done." She smiled walking away from the desk to go do her work
"If I wanted your praise, I would ask for it." He sarcastically said picking up his cup, his eyes landing on the scribbles someone left on it. "Who's Julian?" And why does he want me to call him?" Y/n stoped just a few feet from the door, she turned around with the face everyone does when it's being caught doing something kinda of pitiful. The two exchanged gazes for a short second before Y/n realized that standing there being silent wouldn't save her.
"Well, that was originally my cup." She confessed fully turning towards him.
"And I'm drinking your coffee why?"
"Because your coffee spilled."Her Boss nodded in amusement and took a sip of the coffee.
"So, you drink black coffee, no sugar, no milk, in the morning?"
"I do, is like adrenaline in a cup."
"Is that a coincidence?" He asked shuffling in a comfortable position on his chair. Y/n pressed her lips keeping the lie going. Her body wanting to leave as soon as possible... maybe even her mind.
"Incredibly, it is," She said, a phone dinging in the middle of her reply. "I mean, I wouldn't possibly drink the same coffee that you drink just in case yours spilled." She said sarcastically understanding that there was no use on keeping a facade, misery was not a bad thing if you owned up to it. She walked up to the phone that was ringing on the glass table and replied after adding. "That would be pathetic."
"Morning, Mr.Hargreeve's office....... Hey Bob......" Her boss signed for her that they were about to head there, it took him a movement of his hand while he was reading something on the screen of his computer. "Actually, we're headed to your office right now....... Yep." She hung up with confusion written on her face.
"Why are we headed to Bob's office?" The guy's reply was a silent tsk signaling that something was to go down that morning. Y/n made the same sound back not pushing further cause there was no use, he was gonna show it in a second anyway.
She run outside to her desk, typed one her computer: 'Snake slithering out.' And run back to the door just in time for her boss to walk beside him, all her co-workers shuffling back into position, chattering stopping again. "Have you finished the manuscript I gave you?"
"Uh, I read a few pages. I wasn't that impressed."
"Can I say something?"
"No." He said dismissively while they walked down the cubicles to reach Bob's office that was similar to his just a little smaller.
"I've read thousands of manuscripts, and this is the only one I've ever given you. There's an incredible novel in there. The kind of novel you used to publish." He heard her but decided to rather stick his attention to Bridget passing by that was dusting her white dressed splashed with coffee on the upper side. Y/n looking at her co-worker too already sighing during his next sentence.
"Uh, wrong. And you order the same coffee as I do just in case you spill, which is, in fact, pathetic." They walked past her.
"Or impressive."
"I'd be impressed if you didn't spill in the first place. Now remember, you are just a prop in here." He commended turning the corner to enter Bob's office.
"Won't say a word." She agreed walking in front of him to open the door for him.