My chest was on fire by the time I reached 9th street. What the—why does the ground feel so sticky all of a sudden? Wait a minute....please, tell me I didn't step in gum! I stopped running to look at my heel, gagging at the sight of a piece of gum clinging to it. That's disgusting! I peeled it off and immediately tried to get it off my fingers. After many failed attempts, it went flying onto a woman's pretty, blue blouse. I was about to tell her and apologise but she disappeared into the sea of people passing by before I got the chance.
Oh well, I'm not going after her so...lady, I wish you luck. I began running again, and soon Spectrum's large, iridescent sign came into view. It took me three minutes to get to the concrete stairs. I collapsed on the rail to catch my breath. H-holy shit, I haven't run that much in....ever! I gazed down at my dirt feet as I panted. Yuck. I gave myself another minute before I stood up and walked up the steps, ignoring the people staring and whispering about my feet. Michael, the doorman, opened the single glass door the moment he saw me.
"Good morning, Ms Cabrera." He said, with a smile. "Late again." He teased, as I walked inside. I grinned, shrugging. Psh, I'm never late. The sunlight was bathing Michael's dark skin in yellowish tints. He's a very handsome man in his late thirties with tiny eyes hidden by those black-rimmed glasses and his hair is cut close to his scalp. He wore his black suit with a powder blue tie and spotless, white gloves. When I first started working here I had the biggest crush on him but it was short-lived though. He's happily married with two children. I stopped to give him a quick peck on the cheek.
"Morning!" I said, grinning. "And I'm never late...everyone is always early," I added, jokingly.
He chuckled. "If you say so." He said. I winked at him.
"Enjoy the rest of your day, Michael."
"You too, Ms Cabrera," Michael said, opening the door for two older women from Management.
My feet echoed through the lobby as I sluggishly walked to the elevator, annoying the people around me. I paid them no mind though, I'm at work and that's all that matters. When I got to the elevator, it opened, revealing an opulent, large-bosomed woman in her late fifties, wearing a red dress and a lot of silver, shimmer eyeshadow and we were wearing the same shoes. Well....she's wearing them—mine are in my bag.
"I like your dress," I said, with a smile. What I also wanted to say was: whoever did your makeup needs a royal ass-kicking.
A small smile stretched across her red, thin lips. "Thank you." She said. She's British.
"Enjoy the rest of your day," I said, as I walked inside.
"You too, my dear." She said as she walked out. I pressed 15F then let out a harsh breath as the door closed. I looked at my reflection in the door, my low bun wasn't as messy as I thought it would be. My attire is a white blouse with long, ruffled sleeves and a black pencil skirt with a small slit on my right thigh. For jewellery, I kept it simple with a gold necklace and a letter 'A' pendant.
The door opened for my floor 3 minutes later. I looked around for any sign of my boss but he was nowhere to be seen and his door was locked. Thank God. I walked out as quietly as I could and took the time to marvel at my domain. The white walls were adorned with twelve large, gold-framed covers of our magazine for the past two years, six on both walls. The floor is shiny, polished concrete. To my left and right are the white-themed setting areas with mint green throw pillows embellished with white, geometric shapes. The sofas formed a semicircle around a large, cherry wood coffee table with a bowl of sweets on it, facing the opposite side. My large desk stood two feet from the far centre of the room while in the centre was taken by my boss's opaque glass, double door.
I collapsed on my rotating swivel chair with a huff after placing the drinks on my desk. I turned on my sticky note-covered iMac and Canon printer. My gaze shifted to a framed photo of my father and me at my high school graduation. He was dressed in his military uniform with his arm draped over my shoulders while I stood there in a royal blue gown, with awful bangs and puffy eyes from crying. He had been shipped out 9 months prior—while he's out serving I'd stay with his best friend....my godmother, Sandra, who died a month later. I don't keep many photos of her except for the one in my purse because in most of the photos I have of her, she looked sickly and I don't want to remember her like that. I tore my eyes away before the tears began to fall.
I sat back in my chair at least I'm finally here. I threw my fist in the air. "Hallelujah," I whispered.
"Hallelujah, indeed." He said. I scrambled to my feet and smiled at him. He stood in the doorway of his office, arms folded, staring at me. He didn't look happy. Uh oh. I was struggling to keep my smile.
"Good morning—"
"My office, now." He said, cutting me off as he grabbed his coffee. He flashed me a disappointed look as he took a sip and casually walked into his office, leaving the door open. I slumped down onto my chair as soon as he disappeared inside. I swear I can't catch a break today. I slipped on my shoes then pulled out a handheld mirror. I stared at my appearance as I tried to flatten my flyaways. It didn't work. I'll fix it later. I got up and held my breath as I went inside.
I jumped when he closed the door behind me. I looked over my shoulder at him and tried to calm my racing heart as I watched him walk to his desk. He looked at me before sitting down. "Have a seat, Ms Cabrera," he said, in his normal chilled tone. That's good. His eyes never left mine as I took a seat in front of him. He folded his fingers on his desk, studying me. My nervous smile was rewarded by a breathy sigh. "I don't know what I'm going to do with you, Aubrey." He said, under his breath. I looked into his chocolate brown eyes and chewed on the inside of my lip.
"I don't know either," I said, sighing. He ran his fingers through his wavy, salt-and-pepper hair.
"Eleven times in a month." He said. I shrugged. The sunlight made his olive skin glow. His sharp jawline was marred by his five o'clock shadow. His nose was slightly crooked but it isn't noticeable unless you were up close. He wore a mahogany suit with a white shirt. "Do you know why you're here?" He asked. I shook my head. Of course, I did. "Your tardiness isn't becoming—"
"I'm sorry, sir. I'm trying my best...I mean—I'll try harder next time. Please, don't fire me." I babbled my plead. He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair.
"Do not interrupt me when I'm speaking to you, Aubrey." He gritted through his teeth. I sat back, mouthing my apology. "If I was going to fire you, I would have done that already," he stated. "Despite your inability to be on time...you're a good employee and it'll break my poor old heart to see you go." He added, holding his heart melodramatically. I giggled. That's my goofy boss, I love him to death although he tends to scare the shit out of me. "It's my replacement who you should be worried about." I froze. Replacement? Is he joking?
I laughed but stopped abruptly when he didn't join me. "You can't—I mean—this place wouldn't be the same without you," I said as tears burned my eyes. Aubrey, you fucking crybaby—stop crying! I blinked away the tears. He jogged over and gave me a tight hug. His hug made me feel worse. It felt like I was about to lose all sense of security in my life. I had no one in New York besides him that made me feel safe and if I lost him I don't think I could bear it—I bit my lip to mask the sob about to escape my lips.
"Sweetheart, it's time for me to retire. The stress is becoming too much for me." He said, he used his thumb to wipe away my tears. As I stared into those eyes, my thoughts drifted to the heart attack he had a few months ago, it was terrifying. If I had lost him—I don't know what I would have done.
"Who will replace you?" I asked, softly.
"I was thinking of making Dean—"
"No!" I protested. He thought about it and then mouthed true. "Exactly." He stood up and then sat on the edge of his desk, folding his arms. I wiped my face and looked up at him.
"Who would you pick for this?"
"Jodie," I cornered. Jodie is his niece. She is fun....once every blue moon but she has the experience and the skills that this magazine needs.
"Sure, if she wasn't in Milan on her next project." He stated. I frowned.
"Oh," I started, slouching, "how about one of your sons?" I suggested. He made a face. I almost laughed. Wow, you can't leave Spectrum to any of your eleven sons? Yikes, that doesn't sound good. "Oh come on, they can't be that bad" —except for Jose and Jonah...I shouldn't play favourites so Joey too— "it's better to give it to one of them than to someone that doesn't know what the hell they're doing. For example Dean Abbott."
"I'll sleep on it and I'll announce it at the staff meeting tomorrow," He said. I nodded, getting up. "Aubrey?" I looked at him.
"Yes?"
"When I do make my decision, please try to prioritize your mornings more efficiently." He began. "I don't want to leave this place knowing you're out of a job in less than a week." Oh right—when the time comes I'll worry about all that.
I smiled at him and pulled on his nose. "No promises," I told him. "But I'll try my best, sir." He smiled, shaking his head. "Remember you have a meeting with Marissa Kingsley at 11." I reminded him as I walked to the door.
"That's today! Why didn't you remind me earlier?" He questioned. I shrugged.
"You distracted me," I told him. He groaned in frustration. "Should I push it back?"
"No, it's fine. It's in CD's conference room right?" He asked. CD is the Creative Department. I nodded.
"Yup," I replied. I was about to open the door but someone beat me to it. It's Joey. When he saw me, he smiled. He's back, finally. I couldn't hide the smile tugging at the corners of my lips.
"Aubrey." He whispered. His low, husky voice made me shiver. Joey got most of his features from his father except for his small, heart-shaped lips and those thick, freshly shaved eyebrows. Joey's 5'10, 3 inches shorter than Mr Pereira. He looked smoking in dark jeans, a leather jacket, a white shirt, and black, ankle-high boots. That gorgeous smile grew. I flushed. He took my hand before looking over my head at Mr Pereira with a cocky smile. Mr Pereira grimaced. I giggled.
"Get him out of here, Aubrey, if not I will fire you." Mr Pereira said.
"Daddy!" Joey yelled. "Ya miss—" I pushed Joey outside before he could utter another word. I locked the door behind us. Joey chuckled, pushing his hair out of his eye. I pressed my back against the door, looking up at him. I gasped when he trapped me with both hands at my side. My heart skipped a beat. I swear—I'm like a magnet to these brazen men today. Joey's different from Teal eyes though, Joey and I had history.
We met five years ago when we attended NYU. He was studying Business of Fashion and Luxury and I was studying Creative Writing, he was in his second year and I was in my first. We met at the cafeteria and bonded over our love for ham sandwiches and we were friends ever since. We never dated though, Joey was a player and I was already dating Brandon but one drunken night lead to us skinny dipping and us kissing under the moonlight.
"Still taken?" He whispered, into my ear. I nodded weakly. His smile fell. "Aubrey—"
Not this again. "Please.....don't start, Joey," I said with a sigh.
"I have to." He said with his brows furrowed. "He's not good for you. When will you realize that?" He whispered harshly. I know, ok! I know. I'm tired of it but what can I do? I desperately want to leave but I don't know how to and I can't have you getting involved. Brandon knows who you are and I don't want him coming after you. That's why I have to convince myself that he can change until I find a way to escape this.
"He can change....it's-it's only a matter of time—"
"Until when? Hm?" He questioned. "When you're hospitalized or he kills you?" His eyes bore holes into my soul.
"He won't!" I argued. "He-he loves me." Joey's face turned red. He turned away from me, his hands on his hips. He dropped his head for a moment.
"No. He doesn't—he can't love you and hits you." He began, "I love you, Aubrey.....and I'd never hurt you the way he does." He confessed, looking at me.
"I know," I said, sighing. I've known for years but Brandon. I shuddered at the memories of last night. A tear rolled down my cheek. "What if...I try to leave—" I swallowed a lump in my throat before continuing, "—and he tries to stop me?"
"I'll make sure he doesn't." He ensured and wiped away my tears.
"What if—"
"What if nothing." He said, taking my hand in his. "I'm going to make him let you go...even if it's the last thing I do."
"Joey...I can't let you endanger yourself for me—"
"And I can't let my best friend be some asshole's punching bag." He stated. "I can't rest easy knowing the situation you're in....it's killing me." I sighed. He cupped my face. "Let me help you, Bre.....please." He whispered.
I closed my eyes letting his words and the warmth of his hands engulf me. Joey will protect me, I know he will if I let him. I nodded. "Help me, Joey," I said, weakly. He kissed my forehead.
"I'm getting you out tonight." He said, against my forehead. I shuddered against him. I almost couldn't imagine a life without Brandon and that scares me. I held Joey tighter.
"How was Milan?" I asked, trying to lighten the mood.
"Brutal," he answered, pulling away and taking my hand. "Jodie was being a nightmare as usual." I chuckled. He helped me onto my chair and sat on my desk.
"What was she hounding you about this time?" I asked.
"She thinks I'm not serious about Anarchy...I am but—it's so much work— and I'd like some time to relax now and then, you know?" He said. I nodded. Anarchy is a fashion line Joey, Jonah, and Jose, have been trying to get off the ground for two years. Honestly, they haven't been working as hard as they should have been which is why Jodie took them under her wing given that she had experience. She had a cosmetics company and a fashion line called Odite.
"I understand where you're coming from but she's only harping you because she wants you to succeed," I told him. He sighed, loudly.
"I know but she's so bossy!" He whined. I stood up and cupped his face.
"Joey, shut up and do what she says," I said firmly. He wrapped his arms around me.
"Ah fine....only because you told me to." He said, smiling up at me. I smiled back and ran my fingers through his hair. "Only do that if you plan on letting me kiss you." He whispered. I blushed. Deep down I wanted to kiss him but I'm not ready and I won't be for a while. I need to rid myself of Brandon and find myself before I can think about dating again. I don't want to start something with Joey and hurt him because I wasn't ready. I couldn't do that to him. "Aubrey—ow!"
"Why are you still here!" Mr Pereira yelled, pulling Joey's ear. "And I thought I told you to keep your hands off her." I stood there rolling my eyes. Here we go again
"Ow! Ow! Dad, come on...it's just a hug!"
"Just a hug my ass!" Mr Pereira hissed. Joey let go of me and Mr Pereira pulled me to his side. At this point, I'm used to this, Mr Pereira knows about Joey's—various activities with numerous women and he doesn't want me to be one of them and neither do I. But there's a part of me that believes his feelings towards me goes beyond any of that. Joey pouted, rubbing his ear. I sighed. "Go home!"
"No!" Joey yelled.