Hazel
14.
There's no sign of a burglar during the next few weeks. And gradually, I begin to clean the mess in my room.
The last few nights I've stayed out on the couch for the ever subsiding fear that still presented itself when I least expected. Couldn't walk into my room without the sudden butterflies of dread.
I've grown accustomed to double checking that I've locked my apartment door every time I leave, but I was still paranoid. Couldn't help but glance around the hallway, and each time my mind wandered, I found my eyes on Chase's door.
To only make me feel worse, there's no sign of Mr. Wright being nice anytime soon. His cold, hard exterior is there every morning. Glaring, scolding, and always angered at something I couldn't put a finger to. I was beginning to think that maybe he just didn't like people, but that was absurd because there was no one who particularly enjoys making a scene of themselves.
My phone lit up with a call next to me, Jules's name flashing across the screen when I glanced over. Even though I knew it wasn't a good idea to answer my phone, I couldn't help the concern that filled me and pressed the phone to my ear.
I told myself it would be fine.
"Hazel!"
Jules's voice filled the phone, could make out the sound of shuffling and voices on the other end, telling me that she was at work.
"I just wanted to tell you that I talked to my parents." She said. There's a hopeful undertone to her voice that brought a small smile to my face.
"How'd it go?" I asked. I glanced over at my computer, at my boss's schedule that I was currently updating.
"It went...fine." She said, though Jules's voice sounded hesitant.
"That doesn't sound convincing," I said. "What happened?"
She sighed. "It went better than expected, I'll just say that. And I'm not getting kicked out."
"Oh," I replied. "That's good, right?"
Jules paused for a rather long moment before she said quietly,
"Dad yelled at me pretty badly, and now isn't speaking to me. And mom is just completely shocked—th-they didn't know I was seeing anyone."
Now it was my turn to remain quiet as I mused over Jules's words.
"It's better now." She added.
As if Jules could see me, I nodded my head. I said,
"Can I do anything? Do you need a place to stay?"
"No," Jules answered. "I think my parents are just upset more than anything; they'll get over themselves eventually."
"Are you at the coffee shop?" I asked. I could hear the familiar sounds of the coffee grinder running faintly in the background.
"Yeah, but it's a slow day. When are you coming back?"
"Not any time soon." I said.
"Well, Chase is gone, so it's fair game. Maybe you could try to get fired?"
"Wait, what—? Where's Chase?" Curiosity filled me, but also a sense of relief at the thought of Chase not being at the coffee shop.
"After the accident with Wright, Mr. Riley flipped out and fired him on the spot—I still can't believe he showed up drinking."
"I'm glad he's gone, but I don't think I'm gonna come back. Even if I could."
Silence fell over the phone. "So you wouldn't want to get fired?"
"I don't mind it here." I found myself shaking my head.
And that was the truth. Mr. Wright wasn't the greatest guy around—he was angry and cold and demanding—but I did like the work. Maybe Mr. Wright's cold and hard exterior should have been enough to make me want to be anywhere else, but instead, I found the days going by quickly and enjoyed the fast-paced job I was given. It was like I was truly getting somewhere—sure that I was heading in the right direction.
Unlike the coffee shop, there was always something going on, and I guessed that was why I liked it. The fast-paced environment, along with Mr. Wright's angry words, are what motivated me to push myself. Most days, the coffee shop barely got customers for hours at a time.
"Please don't tell me you actually like it?" Jules asked.
I could imagine the look on Jules's face, the one that she always used when she didn't agree or was upset with something. There was a slight dimple that formed in the one side of her cheek, her bottom lip pulled between her teeth. I could imagine it almost vividly because it was the kind of look she always used when she was around Chase.
"It takes a little bit to get used to, but it's really not that bad." I said.
"It's not bad?" Jules scoffed, though the surprise was clear in her voice. "Are you serious, Hazel?"
"This is what I went to school for—so yeah, seriously."
There's a quiet "okay" on the other end, but it's disbelieving and cold.
"Isn't that man enough to make you leave?"
I imagined Mr. Wright's face, such a clear image that I found my gaze snapping to the door. All of the times he'd step foot into my office to shout at me for something gone wrong, snapping when something I did was right. It seemed I could never win, no matter how hard I tried. In the beginning, I had believed myself a punching bag, but recently, I couldn't help but to take notice of the impressed looks that surfaced when he thought I wasn't looking.
It was those moments that made my work a little more enjoyable.
"No." I replied.
"Okay, fine," Jules huffed in annoyance. "I just don't get it."
"I'm sorry, Jules, but I'm not coming back." I said.
"Yeah, yeah. Don't come back," Jules answered, emotionless. "Anyone who says Carter Wright is a nice guy is either blind or just plain stupid."
I didn't say anything, and without warning, Jules hung up the phone, the line going dead before I could even think to apologize, or say anything.
No, I couldn't apologize. What I had told Jules was true. If I left 'Wright Manufacturing', I knew there was no way I could go back to 'The Daily Grind'. It wouldn't be the same.
Just as my phone screen went dark, and I was pushing it away to continue my work, Mr. Wright came through the door, a scowl etched on his face, tugging on the scar that cut across his lips. I had grown accustomed to his unannounced entrances, but I couldn't help but be startled as his gaze met mine. I couldn't help but think that he had been listening to my conversation.
Pressing my back against the chair and straightening myself out, I couldn't help the embarrassment that burned my cheeks at the thought of being caught. Mr. Wright stared at me, jaw clenched and angry.
"What were you doing?" He snapped. "I had a meeting fifteen minutes ago that you didn't remind me about."
My eyes widened a fraction. I glanced over at the computer screen, to the appointment I set up about a week ago for today. I must have forgotten. But it wasn't for another ten minutes. That made me frown.
"Mr. Wright, I'm sorry, but—" I began to say, but was cut off by his gravelly voice.
"I hired you to work, not take personalized phone calls." Mr. Wright interrupts.
He had definitely been listening.
"You can still go, right? It's...it's not for another ten minutes." I said.
"Can you do anything right?"
Although I should have been terrified of Mr. Wright's anger, the familiar burn of frustration greatly outweighed his glaring features. Lately, with each person he snapped at or dumped his anger on, I couldn't help but quietly listen. I thought back to Jules's words, forcing myself to keep my mouth clamped shut. How hard was it to be respectful?
All I could do was bow my head and not say a thing as Mr. Wright pushed toward the door. Only he stopped halfway through, his green eyes piercing mine.
"You have an hour. Don't be late."
Hunger pressed inside my stomach, a reminder that this was the only time of the day I wouldn't be yelled at. As I grab my keys and my jacket, a thought occurs to me. It was one that made me glance in Mr. Wright's office with a nervous flutter in my stomach. But I wondered what could hurt with a single question.
Mr. Wright hadn't eaten all day. In fact, in the short amount of time that I have been here, I didn't think I ever saw Mr. Wright anywhere but his office.
Carefully, I let myself inside, a vast contrast to the way he came barging into mine. I watched him for a second as his pen moved across a notepad, features relaxed and unlike his usual scowling face.
When Mr. Wright noticed me, that scowl quickly surfaced, quick to compose himself and eyes narrowing. I could only offer a tight-lipped smile in return.
Here goes nothing.
"Would you like me to get you anything to eat?"
Expressionless, cold eyes met my face, and for a second, I could have sworn I saw the hint of surprise. "No."
My nerves were catching up with me with each passing second that I was still standing there, but there was still a part of my mind that reminded me that I was doing the right thing. The hint of surprise, although fleeting, eased a sliver of the doubt I felt.
Still, I found myself saying, "Are you sure, sir? You haven't eaten all—"
"You didn't hear me the first time?" He interrupted me.
His answer made me frown, but I kept my eyes on him, as if waiting for Mr. Wright to cave.
He didn't. Instead, Mr. Wright's piercing green eyes never once wavered from my face, and with just the simple, quiet word, "okay," I felt his stare the whole way out the door.
There's a small diner that I find sitting just on the other side of the Wright building. It looked fairly decent enough, so I set off inside the retro-looking building.
For the very few cars in the parking lot, the place is packed. There are people every which way I turn, voices thick and loud and nearly had me missing the one that was speaking to me.
"Just one?" A voice pulled me away from the crowd, turning to meet a boy with raven hair and a name tag that read, 'Sam' in bold ink.
Nodding, the guy waves me on, leading me to the counter beside a man with a head that looked like a cloud. He smiled at me when I took my seat.
But it isn't him that catches my intention. Instead, it's the person that is looking my way from one of the booths in front of me. He's unsmiling though curious. There was a woman sitting across from him, and although I could only see part of her face, she made the young man look a little less daunting.
Suddenly, she met my stare, which only heightened the ever growing confusion inside of me. I had never seen them in my life, but by the man's knowing stare, he knew me.
It was only when he stood from his seat, eyes still locked on me, that mine drew in confusion, the questioning words on the edge of my tongue.
"Is your name Hazel by any chance?" The man asked when he neared me, his tall, broad-shouldered build looming over me.
I found myself nodding my head, the confusion clear in my voice as I said,
"Do I know you?"
The guy shook his head, his lips curving into a tight smile as his eyes searched my face, light hazel eyes that were striking against his fair skin and dark, tousled hair.
"You're the new assistant, right?"
"For Wright's?" I found myself saying. Somehow, it made me feel better to ask. Just to be sure.
He nodded his head. "Yes, there."
The woman who had been sitting in the booth with the man, came to stand next to him, a small, embarrassed smile on her face.
"What's he like? Cold? Harsh? Intimidating?"
For a moment, I just watched him. I couldn't tell if he was being genuinely serious or mocking me. When the woman—maybe his wife by the ring on her finger—snapped at him, I assumed the latter.
"Tom! Just let her be, okay? I'm sorry, Ms. Morgan."
Great, the woman also knew who I was. She went to tug on the man's—Tom's—arm, but his curious gaze was still on me. Maybe he was being serious.
"No," he said, shaking his head. "I'm just curious."
"Yeah..." I found myself saying, my voice trailing off questioningly. "I mean he's not terrible, but he's not exactly nice, either."
That made Tom frown slightly, his eyes finally moving from mine and to the cement floors underneath us, a faraway look darkening his eyes.
"I think you're being way too kind. What's he really like?" He looked at his wife, an unspoken conversation that had me nervous all over again.
Did he know something I didn't? Why did he want to know?
C'mon, we need to go." She said, her voice softer.
With Tom's eyes still lingering on me, he let himself be pulled away, and with my mind suddenly racing, the two disappeared back to their seats.