[EDITED]
Grace
A week has passed since my last encounter with William, or Will as he liked to be called. Photo shoots have been assigned, projects were made, and my mission was to make sure Will got the perfect picture for a company that needed him on the front cover of FASHION Magazine.
Apparently they wanted the young, 'hot' millionaire on the cover because his father wanted more business, even though he already had enough, and as Will had said, "he's got so much money coming in, he doesn't know what to do with it."
I was assigned on the project as the photographer, I wasn't happy that they had picked our agency for it, but I was a little over-joyed when I saw how much Mr. Reed and the people at the company that were going to put Will on the front cover were going to pay—one hundred dollars to be exact.
That's how much both parties were willing to pay everyone who helped at the photo shoot today, and it was just enough to let me pay off my bills for this month, all while possibly staying in that lousy apartment I call 'home'.
Suddenly, there's a knock on the door, interrupting me from cleaning the windows in my office. Not turning away from the window, I say loudly, "Come in."
A bottle of window cleaner and an old white rag were in my hands as I walked over to my desk, the door opening to reveal my best friend, Kimberly.
"Hi, Kim," I greet, setting the stuff that was in my hands on the old oak desk. She walks over to me, standing still with her hands clasped together.
"Hey Grace," Her voice sounding a little nervous and I turn my head to look at her, raising an eyebrow in curiosity at my friend.
"You are doing alright?" I ask, sitting on the top of the desk.
She nods, looking down at her shoes. "Perfectly fine, great even."
"Uh huh, okay, what's up?" I ask, not believing a word that came out of her mouth. She just shakes her head, "Nothing."
"Nothing?"
"Nothing."
"Then why did you knock on my door?" I felt bad for interrogating her like this, but I had no other choice if I was going to get answers.
"Didn't you know curiosity killed the cat?" She says, a huff of frustration leaving her lips as she crossed her arms. Behind the office door a sound of something hitting the floor could be heard, something heavy and probably very expensive. I walk over to the door but not before I look back at Kimberly.
"Yes, and right now I'm curious as to why there are crashing sounds. So, unless you have anything to say before I exit this room you better make it quick," I tell her, placing my hand on the door knob.
"I'll come with you, just don't get mad," she replies, walking over to my side and I open the door.
What I was met with on the other side of the door was just plain chaos, workers running around trying to clean up the place and in the middle of it all stood a small group of my coworkers, standing side by side shielding off something that was behind them. I walk over to them first, a part of me not wanting to see what the three where hiding and another part wanting to.
"What'cha got there?" I ask once I'm near the three, pointing to how the guy in the middle had his hands behind his back, clearing hiding something.
"N-nothing," he stutters, his actions reminding me how Hayden acted around me when he thought I was going to blow like a ticking time bomb."You wouldn't want to see what it was anyway," he adds, his friends nodding their heads in agreement.
I hold out my hand, "Show me what's behind your back." I didn't ask, I instructed, command, getting annoyed. He, Greg, hands whatever it was that was behind his back to me with shaky hands, dropping into mine and then quickly pulling his away.
I look down, seeing a broken, expensive camera that I had to hold with both hands. Anger took over my body, the curious part of me being replaced with my anxiety and rage, the two things that shouldn't go together. The camera, though, was broken in half and was missing more than just a few pieces. I look at it suspiciously, not seeing how a camera could break in half, two somewhat equal halves. I mean, little pieces could've been broken off, shattered and could be possibly be easy to fix. But, this looked like someone had taken it and threw onto the ground, or even took a baseball bat and decided it was best time to practice.
I look away from the broken camera, walking over to a table that's nearby and dumping the two halves and the shattered, tiny, pieces that were coming off as I held onto it. Carefully, I dump it all onto the table, turning away and walking back to the small group of four. Kimberly stood there, awkwardly scratching the back of her neck as the three men glanced away and without any hesitation ran away from, knowing well enough what happens when someone messes with my cameras.
"Kimberly," I ask, "Do you know who did that to my camera?"
She nods her head."Follow me, and try not to make a scene," she suggest, grabbing my arm and leading me toward a group near the snack table. About five older men stood there, all dressed in fancy suits, preferably made for business men; like them. They all stood in a circle, holding their heads higher, probably thinking they were better than everyone else in the room. I hated people like them, with a passion. Always thinking they came first just because they had more money, a better house, a nicer car, a "better" family. Kimberly led me over to one that had dark brown hair and green eyes, ones that changed every second. The eyes seemed familiar, like a new memory.
Eyes like whiskey on a warm summer evening, with the sun shining through the bottle.
"It's him," I hear Kim say; pointing at the one I was looking directly at.
I nod, mumbling a quick, "thank you". I make my way over to the unfamiliar man, a glass of what looked to be champagne in his hand. In the pocket near his heart held a white hanky, and a black ballpoint pen. He looked to be a nice, kind man, but that all changed when he saw me and a frown replaced the smile on his face. The rest of the men, his friends I'm guessing, stopped talking immediately when he stopped talking, turning their heads to look in my direction. Their noses scrunch up at the sight of me, a look of pure disgust written on their faces. Well aren't they making it completely obvious?
"Excuse me, did any of you..." I pause, searching for the right word."Gentlemen happen to touch a very expensive camera that was sitting over on that table?" I quickly point over to the table where a camera lies broken in pieces.
They all give each other a quick glance, but the one to answer is the older man with the dark, whiskey brown eyes. A mischievous, sneaky glow in his eyes.
"Sweetheart," he begins, using his right hand to gesture to men around him."We never touched one of your silly cameras; on another note, why would we?"
In my boots I clench my toes, trying to stay calm."Well if you or any of your buddies didn't my "silly" little camera, then who did? Because, I have at least four eye witnesses telling me that you destroyed my camera."
The glow in eyes simmer out, the mischievous glint replaced with a look of embarrassment, shame over taking his body. He coughs, trying to hide the fact that his pride and dignity was slowly getting stripped away from a twenty five year old.
"Oh," I say, trying to sound surprised."So, you did destroy the camera, the one I had to pay for."
"Now, sweetheart—"
"Don't call me sweetheart, my name is Grace Thompson, and most of this equipment belongs to me, and Mr. Harris, the chief executive," I explain my voice louder then it should've been, letting my emotions control me. I could feel my coworkers staring at me, their eyes burning a hole in the back of my skull.
The old man scuffs at my words."You, Ms. Thompson, cannot yell at me. I am the richest person in this room, along with these other men around me, and I, alone, can take you down with just a snap of my fingers if you yell at me or accuse me one more time."
I glare at him, my eyes darkening as anger and resentment over runs my body, seeping into my very core. I step closer, pointing an accusing finger at him."You really can't sue someone for just yelling, and pointing out the fact that you broke my camera!" I retort, no longer caring who heard me. At this point I was through with staying calm, cool, and collective; the man standing in front of me was getting on my nerves.
"Oh, to hell I can't!" He shouts back, his face going red. Just like me, the mystery old man steps closer, coming face to face with me. Only a foot apart from each other, we glare at the other, our arms crossed, and determination and rage written on both of our faces. We didn't move or talk, just standing there and glaring.
"Dad!"
Suddenly, the voice that I wasn't really thrilled to hear yells the one thing I wasn't expecting to be yelled through the entire room. I turn my head, my jaw dropping slightly as I look back and forth between Will and his father. Surprise wouldn't count has to how I felt about this very awkward situation; it was more shocked than anything else.
"Your Will's father?" I ask, realizing the person I had just yelled at was Mr. Reed—the same man who was paying me one hundred dollars to snap photos of his son. I was officially screwed at this point. I was so low on cash at the moment, I couldn't even pay off the bills on my apartment, and the food I was eating was leftovers that I had to beg Kim for. If Mr. Reed canceled this thing it wouldn't just be my butt on the line.
"Yes," Mr. Reed answers after quite some time after being completely silent. Worry flooded through as I looked into his eyes, the whiskey color turning a medium brown, a troubled look in his eyes that told me that he was up to no good.
"Grace, is it?" He asks, and I nod in reply, holding my head high to look the littlest bit confident. "Do you have an office that we could talk in?"
Again I nod."I do have an office," I tell him.
"Good, now can you lead me to this office of yours?"
"Yes, if you would follow me," I advise, watching him fix his suit jacket before following me toward my office.
The walk to my office was short, but it gave me enough time to notice one of the interns cleaning up the destroyed camera, the one that the man behind me supposedly wrecked. As we walked our feet shuffled against the floor, at a different pace. Worried and anger still flowed through me like a stream, and I was holding back everything to not turn around and punch Mr. Reed.
Once in my office I sit down in my black rolling chair, the wheels rolling my backwards slightly. Down in the corner near the bottom of my desk is where a heater sat, blowing warm air around the room.
"Do you want to sit down?" I ask, but he shakes his head, declining the offer.
"No, thank you. I just had something to say, and I didn't want your coworkers to see you throw another fit," he explains, and I just smile, clenching my fingers into a fist.
"Alright, well say what you have to then," I tell him.
"Okay, well Ms. Thompson, I just wanted to inform you that I will no longer be needing you to take the pictures for the magazine of my son," he tells me, smiling.
I hold up a finger. "Wait—"
He cuts me off. "That'll be all, thank you for your time."
With that he leaves, leaving me alone to stare down at my desk, my hand against my cheek, my head resting on it. I give out a loud sigh, about ready to have an emotional breakdown.
"I'm so screwed," I grumble angrily.
***
"Grace, you are so screwed," Kimberly says, her voice sounding lower over the phone.
"Don't you think I know that already? I'm going to lose my apartment, my car, and I'm not going to be able to pay for groceries or food!" I shout back quietly, knowing she was probably cringing and holding the phone away from her ear.
"Jesus! Could you stop yelling, you're going make me deaf," she complained.
"Oh, I'm not. Stop whining," I tell her, feeling a sudden tap on my shoulder. Looking up, somewhat annoyed that I was interrupted in the middle of having a conversation. But, when I do, I see Will. His hair was its usual tousled mess, his eyes the same shade of sun shining through whiskey -just like his father's-, but the only thing different was the fact that he was just wearing a plain blue V neck T-shirt and a pair of jeans, and in his hand a beer bottle.
"Grace you still there?" I hear Kimberly ask.
"Y- yeah, I got to go," I say before hanging up and putting my phone in my back pocket. I look up at Will, him towering over him. My mouth, just like it has done earlier when I had last saw him, hung open, gaping at him.
"Will, you're here? Why?" I ask, and he shrugs as a reply.
"It's a free a country. Can I sit?" He tells me, and I nod, giving him permission to sit in the other part of the booth in front of me.
"So, what brings you here of all places?" I question, leaning back onto the booth cushion.
"I don't come here that often, I usually just come for the good beer and to hear one of my friends's play," he explains, taking a sip of his beer.
"They are a good band. Which one's your friend?"
"Eh, they're alright—could do better. He's the one playing bass."
"Were on the same page for once," I point out, and he tilts beer over to me, agreeing with me. When he does tilt his beer, he tilts it too fast and some of the liquid pours out on to the table
I give out a chuckle, quickly grabbing a few napkins that were left on the table and begin wiping up the mess. Soon enough after I'm done cleaning the table, and making sure none of the beverage was still on the wooden platform, Will laughs along with me, but only for a second.
"Sorry," he apologizes, grabbing my hand, stopping it from moving. I stare down at our hands and how I found it odd when I felt him pull his hand away.
"Sorry," he apologizes once again, but this time not grasping mg hand in his. I drop the soak napkins on the table away, pushing them away from me.
"It's fine, really."
He smiles. "You know, I'm not trying to be weird and I promise I'm not a creeper, but when I walked over here I couldn't help but over hear that you were low on cash."
I look down at my hands, my cheeks heating up in embarrassment. "Yeah, I am. Since your father canceled the shoot, I won't be getting, along with every else in the building."
I look back up, noticing his brows scrunching together. "He's a prick that way, but I can promise you that it's not your fault."
"But, it is! I'm the one who yelled at him and accused him of breaking my camera," I say, shrinking back down into the seat.
A huff of frustration escapes through his lips. "Nice job, if I were you, I would've punched him. And it wasn't your fault," he insists. "Besides, he did break your camera. He's just got too much pride to admit. I'll be happy to get you new one if you want."
I looked at him, shocked. "No, you don't have to that."
"Seriously, I'm not trying to be rude. But how much did the camera cost exactly?" He asks.
"Um...., I'm not exactly sure, but I'm guessing a lot," I say, sounding completely stupid.
"See, let me help. I'll keep nagging you if you don't", he threatens.
"No, but you can ask me later."
"Fine, but at least let me by you a drink or something?"
"I'll take a beer," I tell him.
"A beer it is then," He exclaims a little too happily.
A laugh escapes through my lips as I watch him get up and disappear in the crowd.
Thanks fo rreading :) And sorry about the long wait for an update.