"...Even if you don't see them."
Brooklyn resisted the urge to turn around as she was walking back to her house. After what the man said to her, she felt like she needed to be cautious of her every move, in case someone was following her.
Walking down a deserted road at 8 in the morning wasn't what she pictured herself doing yesterday. Before all shit went down, she had thought that she'd be spending her time in an ice cream parlor treating herself to a cup of mint chocolate for a job well done. But now, still with an empty pocket and a dirty record, the only option was to go back home and lock herself in her room to mull over how much of a failure she was.
Fifteen minutes later, she arrived at her one-storey sad excuse of a house. Not bothering to check if the door was locked, she rounded the house to her window and lifted it up, climbing inside.
Her room was boring, nothing like the office she just came out from. There was a creaky old bed in the middle of the room, a wooden cupboard, desk and dresser with splintered edges and peeling wallpaper falling from the wall. Her stuffed teddy bear that she had from when she was a baby was lying in the middle of the old bed, saggy from all the times she had cried clutching it.
Brooklyn took out her hand-down computer that was at least seven-years-old and went to Google.
She typed Woods Inc. in the search bar. The results that came up were mostly about a young billionaire and all his success and business deals he managed to sign. Immediately, Brooklyn's thoughts flew to the man she spoke to not an hour ago. She brought the cursor to 'images' and clicked it. There, hundreds of pictures of him came up(not that she counted).
Suddenly, an email popped up on her screen.
From: asherwoods69@gmail.com
To: brklynreid@gmail.com
Speaking of the dev- stalker.
Subject: Terms and Conditions
Ms Reid, I don't think we've finished our conversation before you rudely left without my permission. Remember, my mercy.
That aside, you are to come to my office Monday morning at 8 sharp. Suitable office wear attire. You are my new personal assistant. There will be a contract that you have to sign but we'll get to that later.
Have a nice day.
Brooklyn stared at the screen numbly as if not feeling will make the words turn into something she actually don't mind reading.
Personal assistant? Hell no.
From: brklynreid@gmail.com
To: asherwoods69@gmail.com
Re: Terms and Conditions
First off, nice username. The 69 is a lit addition. Secondly, I did not leave without permission, you simply did not stop me. Get your facts right.
P.s. I'm not being your assistant.
Not a few moments later:
From: asherwoods69@gmail.com
To: brklynreid@gmail.com
Re: Terms and Conditions
Ms Reid, you mistook my words. I'm not asking. You are working for me now. Or do you want to rot in jail instead.
Your choice.
That bastard. Brooklyn never told him how scared she was staying in prison, but even without telling him, he knows. He knows that she wouldn't want to be in a place with actual criminals. Criminals that are guys, and has hormones.
Even though she does too and has a really good relationship with her hands and her vibrator, she doesn't want random people touching her for no reason. With Mr Woods, the situation was different. She was desperate to get out. Unharmed.
Unless it was him pounding in her.
From: brklynreid@gmail.com
To: asherwoods69@gmail.com
Re: Terms and Conditions
I'm sorry.
I'll be at your office at 9 am. In my best t-shirt and sweatpants.
Thank you for your consideration.
She was quite proud of herself with that email. Not only did she contradict whatever he had said previously, she did it with style. Besides, it's not like she owned any office wear clothes.
From: asherwoods69@gmail.com
To: brklynreid@gmail.com
Re: Terms and Conditions
If you have the guts, Ms Reid, I dare you. You are getting paid a very generous amount of money to be my PA, considering the circumstances. Pull a stunt like that and your position will drop from an assistant to one of my cleaning staff.
Wait, what the f? He was going to pay me? After I tried to rob him. This guy must be the best person ever to rob or he had bloody things planned for her.
From: brklynreid@gmail.com
To: asherwoods69@gmail.com
Re: Terms and Conditions
If that's the case, Sir, I would be in my best attire.
I'll see you on Monday.
That was the end of their conversation. Mr Woods did not see fit to return her email. She sighed and power off her computer.
Brooklyn did not believe it. She had a job! She had tried many times to get a job, even if it was a low pay one as long as she can keep food on her table, but most of the employers did not want to listen to a word she said unless she can show evidence that she was at least a high school graduate.
Well, the only open position without those standards are the ones where no thinking was involved. I.e. cleaning toilets.
Who knew all she had to do was break into a rich fuckers house and a job as a personal assistant is on the table.
Her previous job as a cashier in McDonald's was nothing compared to this.
Now that she has a whole day in front of her with nothing to worry about, she decided to go to the weekly flea market. She needed fresh clothes anyway. Checking her purse for money, she realised that she only had a twenty. In this scenario in cartoons, her wallet would have a stray fly flying out.
How was she supposed to get an attire for the office when she couldn't even get one for walking in the streets, let alone afford it.
Deciding to test her luck, she went anyway. As she was looking through the racks of used clothes while subtly checking the price tags, a hand grabbed her arm from behind. She whirled around, ready to tell the person the get his hands off her, when she actually took in the appearance of the man.
He was undoubtedly attractive. From his chocolate coloured eyes to his plump lips, a head of brown hair and a lean body, she couldnt help but stare. And he was staring back.
Blast it, she was a girl with a knack of liking hot men, after all.
"Um, hi..." she started carefully.
That seemed to snap him out of his daze, and his eyes went up to where it should have been. She wasn't wearing anything overly revealing. Just a t-shirt that she had since she was ten and and a pair of shorts. Definitely not her best look. "Damn girl," he whistled, "I was just looking around when I saw you. Can I have your number?"
"Would that be appropriate? I mean, I just met you."
He guy frowned, probably because he was not used to being rejected. "Come on. What about this, I saw you eyeing that top just now. How bout I buy that for you and in exchange I get your number."
"I don't know," she says, but internally she was doing a happy dance. Score. "That is not something I would usually do, not with a stranger."
"I mean, if you want I can buy my way to your number but I don't think that you're the type of person either. I'm also not that rich so it would definitely put a dent in my pockets. That top?"
She sighed. This guy seems nice, and he doesn't scream 'murder' or anything of that sort. "Fine. Deal."
He grinned. She put her number in his phone, purposely leaving her name empty for games, as he purchased her promised item. Well, that's one problem out of the way, she thought. Now all she had to worry about was what would she wear for her bottom half.
She had a pair of heels that she stole from her grandma when she was twelve for a party. It looked as though it walked straight out of a vintage store but that would have to do. As for accessories, that was a no-no since she was literally broke and she thinks it's a waste of time(and money - that's what she doesn't want people to know).
"There you go," he came back, smiling. Brooklyn held out his shiny new iPhone X that she has been ogling for a while now. He was definitely lying when he said he wasn't rich, "I hope it's your actual number," he laughed while taking it back, "I would be very disappointed if it wasn't."
She grinned. "Trust me, it is. I'll be waiting for that call," she winked.
"Count on it."
She headed home after that. With a tick already checked in her box of things to buy, she went home satisfied. Now she has one less thing to worry about for Monday.