A tall, dark-haired man of age showed me his ID. Even before I had time to say anything, I only looked at him questioningly.— We know that you are the new employee of VECS, — his eyes seemed tired and a little irritated. He must have been waiting for me for quite some time. I did not rush with an answer, simply watched him appraisingly. And the longer I stayed silent, the more irritation grew on his face.— The strangest thing here is you, — I remarked. I could almost hear his teeth grinding. He was holding himself back.— Perhaps you've had unusual assignments? Or strange behavior among the staff? — he pressed on, though clearly keeping his aggression on a short leash.— I'll repeat myself: the strangest thing here is that the FBI is interested in me — just an errand worker, "bring this, take that, print that." Not even the police, but precisely the FBI, — I put emphasis on a level far too high for me. — I don't think I can tell you anything about "oddities." Mostly I deal with invoices for cleaning supplies or run small errands: make copies, print, deliver. — I shrugged as if speaking about the most ordinary routine.— And now excuse me, I'm terribly tired and want to go home, — I began to go inside, but his hand stopped the door.— We can count on you in the future, can't we? On cooperation? — he asked. I silently walked toward the elevator. I knew their games, and had no desire to get involved. He never got an answer from me.
As I rose upstairs, I replayed in my head the same question: why had he come to me specifically? Why me? Or do they check every newcomer like this?.. Another task for my brain. Soon there won't be any free shelves left in my head.
I had barely entered and taken off my things when Derek knocked on the door — in one hand a bottle of wine, in the other new glasses gleaming with pearly shimmer.— Are we feasting? Or celebrating something? — I asked, eyeing his "stylish" glasses.— I saw them today in a new collection and decided they were made for us, — he smirked, and opening the bottle, began filling the glasses. — How's work at the new place?— Bearable. Though it feels as if either Theron wants to turn my days into hell, or he's overestimating my abilities. Not clear yet, — I cut up some snacks, set the table. — And how are things with you?We sat at the table, looking at each other. I wasn't only asking about work — he understood that.— Bearable, — he smiled faintly, took a sip. — In routine there's little time to think about everything. I try not to spend much time at home or idle.I looked at him, at the new glasses. Inside, quietly, a hollow emptiness began to appear. Unwanted feelings.— Will you give me these glasses? — I asked, looking straight into his face. The emptiness was already seeping into him.— Well, since we're always drinking at your place, I think yes, — he shifted his gaze from the glass, and life returned to his eyes.
We sat in silence, drinking wine. It wasn't the first time — so there was no awkwardness. Our friendship, our fates had long since intertwined, spilled into one another. Even in silence, we were at ease together.
Our silence was broken by the phone. A message from the office.21:30"Tomorrow dress appropriately for the celebration. At five in the evening there will be an event in honor of the contract signed with Suzuki. 38th floor." — Ostin.— So soon? — I even repeated aloud. Derek looked at me questioningly.— Some celebration tomorrow. I need to wear something decent, — he easily read the fatigue on my face.— Come on, I'll help you pick something. Otherwise you'll show up again in your gray suit, — he set his glass aside and went into the bedroom.I didn't share his enthusiasm and continued drinking wine. After a couple of minutes I heard him cursing my meager wardrobe and complaining that "it's so empty a mouse could hang itself in there." I pretended not to hear.
A few minutes later he appeared holding a black dress, a jacket, and my most hated shoes with absurdly high heels.— The dress isn't too short: the top is closed, the sleeves are long, even the neck is covered. Just above the knee — so it won't irritate or tempt anyone. You'll throw a loose jacket on top — you don't like attention, this will give you calm, and you won't be fidgeting. The heels — there's no way without them. And don't you dare wear your work shoes, they're already falling apart.He hung the outfit on the wardrobe door in the living room, set the shoes below, and returned to his glass. He knew me too well. My weaknesses, habits, peculiarities. The emptiness again tried to break into my head, but I instantly drove it away.— When is your sister coming to visit? — he asked, breaking the silence.— Viky? She'll come for a couple of days next week. Then she'll return to her dorm at school.— How's her character? She's already a teenager. Fifteen.— Don't remind me. It's a nightmare. She sometimes writes me little grievances, but I rarely reply. At this age, I think, she'll always be dissatisfied with everyone. I've just resigned myself and try not to pay attention. The main thing is that we don't kill each other in the couple of days she's here.I went and turned on the TV. Some stand-up show was on. The rest of the evening and the bottle we spent staring at the screen.
I went to work in the outfit Derek had prepared. The only thing — I put on my work shoes, and the ones he picked I brought with me.
In the company, oddly enough, it was livelier and more hectic than usual. Apparently, the event had been organized last minute, and now everyone was rushing about.I tried to catch Liana to find out details about Travis, but it was pointless: she was never at her workplace. Everyone only said she was busy with preparations.Out of frustration, I headed to Ostin. He, unlike the others, sat calmly in his office, preparing documents.— Can I schedule a meeting with Travis? — I asked. — I think after a personal conversation it'll be easier to understand the reasons for the disagreements in the contract.— Liana has already met with him many times, — he remarked without lifting his eyes from the papers.— I think a fresh perspective would help, — I insisted.— I'll see what I can do. Today you'd better prepare for the event, — he reminded, glancing at me.— I'm ready, — I answered confidently. His gaze grew surprised.— When you arrive, take off the jacket, — he stated.— Why am I even needed there? — I asked.— This is Theron's order, — he looked at me attentively and added: — And don't think he won't notice your absence.— Is there something I don't know? — for my presence looked very strange.— No. He simply said that you must be there. That means — you must, — he ordered calmly.— Fine. Thirty-eighth floor, five o'clock. I'll be there, — I confirmed and left for my office.
Before the event I tried to gather as much information as possible about Travis Dote. Actor, model, and singer. Twenty-six years old. The most outstanding actor of the past year. He debuted three years ago and immediately collected every "rookie of the year" award — both in America and abroad. His main fame came from a debut love film — a model for girls and a sweet prize for women. Always friendly, gentle, radiant, conquers hearts with his charisma.In his free time he sings rock. His songs are also successful. At the moment he has a heap of contracts as a face of advertising. In fact — nothing extraordinary. Single. Or doesn't publicize it. About his family — minimal information.I found his Instagram. Damn, I don't have an account there. Had to create one. It was full of beautiful photos. Even more photos of his toned body. And tons of girls in the comments.A narcissist?I scrolled through posts, fan accounts, interviews, clips. Nothing useful. A handsome face, a body — and emptiness. No plans, no dreams, no personal life. As if not a public figure at all, but just another introvert.I was sure: Liana would deliberately withhold information or hide it completely. This time both the first and the second task came with a load of crap, so to speak. I sighed heavily and leaned back in my comfortable chair.
Tick-tock. Tick-tock.The clock irritably struck the time, hammering at my nerves. Not only had I found no way out — I hadn't even really begun. My head — empty.— Mirey, didn't you get enough sleep? — I reproached myself aloud.17:10"Where are you? I'll hope you just got lost in the elevator."The message jolted me out of my stupor. Right. The event.
I jumped into the new heels, grabbed the jacket, and ran to the elevator.
I entered the hall, lavishly decorated with flowers, with perfectly set white tables and a sea of champagne, drinks, and appetizers. My eyes scattered from the luxury — expensive jackets, dresses, jewelry. At the far end of the hall, live jazz was playing, and the trumpet was softly tracing a solo.I didn't look into the distance. After the blinding lights, I tried to figure out where I could perch — and where at all my place was in this showy celebration.I sat at the first side table — without name cards, without any markings. My eyes ran through the hall. So many. Just unbelievably many rich people: all laughing, talking, some whispering. And I sat — with no idea why I was even here.17:40 "Move to the third table" — Ostin.They even have "names" here, — I smirked to myself and went to find the third table.I carefully avoided any contact, but the heels clearly wanted back into the closet. Almost there, I still brushed someone with my elbow. Turning to apologize, I noticed a familiar face.— Oh, it's you? — escaped uncontrollably when I realized it was Travis Dote himself. Could it be luck on my side? But immediately I realized I had blurted out too much. — Forgive me. It is you, Mr. Travis Dote, — I corrected myself as politely as possible.He looked straight at me, clearly trying to recall whether we knew each other.— My name is Mirey Ellis. I was appointed as the new negotiation agent for our cooperation…— I see no point in our cooperation, — a rough low voice interrupted me.— Don't rush to conclusions. I'm here precisely to find comfortable and advantageous terms — both for you and for our side. I propose we restart our relations and forget past misunderstandings, — his gaze remained hard. — Please, give me a chance simply to talk with you, to hear your wishes and the positions that don't suit you. I'm sure we can find common ground.Travis came close. Too close. I involuntarily retreated until I bumped into a tall table. He was taller and stronger — almost like Theron.— Fine. I can give you a minute, — leaning against the table behind me, he bent forward. As if trying to discern something in my eyes.The phone in my hand wouldn't stop buzzing — someone was persistently calling. Behind him I noticed Ostin with a phone at his ear.— I think this isn't the right place for negotiations. But I'm glad and grateful that you accepted my proposal. I'll contact your manager today and arrange a meeting according to your schedule, — it was foolish to talk now in half-noise, and with a glass in his hand. Negotiations must be clean, professional — I apologize.He stepped back, and I went to the empty third table. Looking around, I noticed Theron nearby: he sat at a table with Suzuki. And next to him… Amy Chon.18:00 "You still came in the jacket?" — Ostin.What a bore. I stood up, demonstratively took off the jacket and hung it on the back of the chair — theatrically, in Ostin's direction. He sat at a neighboring table, talking with someone.But I had no time to be smug before I caught Theron's angry look. Too stifling here, among bosses and the rich. What the hell was I even doing here?
I sat, drinking glass after glass, and observing the rich.An hour later came the signing: the sale of the jewelry brand and all its production, plus the presentation and official handover of a work of art — a Japanese villa. Around me — noise, discussions. I poured glass after glass into myself. Sometimes people sat at my table, then left. And so in circles.Another hour later I felt the intoxication. Light, but searing. It had become physically stifling.I shouldn't have drunk wine yesterday.
Maintaining composure and still barely holding myself together, I went to Ostin and, leaning, whispered:— Can I leave already?He twitched. The companions at the table exchanged glances — clearly discussing me. And from afar I was already catching Theron's fierce look. In the hall he was sweetly conversing with Amy and some important people.Why was he so displeased today? The deal was in his pocket. A woman by his side. Yes, he'd had to part with one of his millions of treasures. But he'd acquired another. So why was he strangling me with his eyes?— Yes, — Ostin replied dryly.
I calmly went to the table, took the jacket, and with the same focus walked to the exit, past Theron's fierce gaze.Let's hope my intoxication wasn't noticeable. I tried to hold myself straight, decent.
Descending to my office, I decided to rest a little and freshen up — poured some water. At the same time, to distract myself, I tidied the papers on the table. But the intoxication turned out stronger than usual. I knew my limit and my state. And this was different — unusually sweet, almost intoxicating. As if something inside me was beginning to open.I leaned on the table, trying to concentrate, but my gaze slid over the office, clinging to little things.What kind of champagne had they been serving? — in my chest was a strange, viscous freedom.
The door burst open, and I flinched, torn from my thoughts.Theron entered the office. His eyes just as fierce as before.Could it be I got drunk?