İçeriğe geç

unplanned-love-1

Kategori: Genel

Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Amateur

Subject: Unplanned love chapter 01 (beginnings / interracial) Nifty is a free site, but still requires funds to continue operating. Please provide a donation at fty/ This story is 100% fictional. Any resemblances to actual people (living or dead), organizations or companies, events are entirely coincidental. Comments are welcomed and would be very much appreciated. Asterisk (*) will be used for past events, dreams or thoughts. * Summary: Liam Weidenfeld is totally focused on his career as an event planner. As he’s responsible for his family’s financial situation, which includes his mother’s expensive medical treatment and helping his brother who failed to finish school, the determined assistant dreams of becoming Fontaine’s event producer. But as always, nothing in Liam’s life goes according to his plans. Not only he’s forced to organise the wedding that could break him completely, but he also has to share an apartment with one of the most annoying guys he has ever met. …… . …… Chapter 01 If my life was a fairy tale, I would never be the prince charming ready to save the princess, hell I wouldn’t even be the princess. Depending on the day, I would be the fairy godmother, with a very tight schedule. On this Wednesday morning, however, I’m the angry dragon spitting fire on my bed, and it doesn’t help that my best friend and housemate, Nina and her boyfriend, Daniel, are arguing on the living room. “What do you mean they stole the truck from the buffet, Stefanie?” I ask my favorite chef over the phone, trying to ignore the yelling outside my bedroom. “…you’ve been hiding something from me, Dani?” Nina’s muffled and angry voice passes under the door. “Not this again!” Daniel replies, just as angry. I rub my forehead, peering at the bookshelves beside the window. A few rays of sunlight can be seen through the gray curtain, indicating that I should’ve gotten out of bed some time ago. “They took everything, Liam.” Stefanie tells me on the other end of the line. “The kitchen utensils, the groceries, the driver’s phone and even the poor guy’s glasses. I can fix it, but I can’t promise there won’t any delays.” I hate the word ‘delay’ as much as its best friend, ‘improvisation’. Nothing good comes out of either of them. Because of those words, my schedule is falling apart like dominoes. How can everything go so wrong when I haven’t even brushed my teeth yet? I’ve spent six whole months planning and organising this party. I even chose not to celebrate my 27th birthday last week, so I could dedicate myself entirely in the last details. It’s my job to make everything work like the well-oiled cogs of a Swiss watch. No matter how crazy the client’s request is, I always fulfill it. I’m known for that. People trust my work. Birthdays, weddings, dinners… Just give me a date and a theme. People have dreams, and I’m paid to turn them into unforgettable parties. This time they want a fancy graduation party. The client wants their guests to feel like they are in Paris. And of course I can do it. But that won’t happen if the truck with the food I need for the party was stolen. I close my eyes, massaging my temples. If the food isn’t in the hall by lunchtime I have to execute plan B: call the caterer who will provide the food for a political party the next day. A bad alternative on several levels, as the menu isn’t the same, besides generating a domino effect if there won’t be time to replenish the stock. I explain all this to Stefanie, who promises to do her best to make dinner that night, even if she has to bring pans and pots from her house. I believe her. She’s competent. We’ve been working together for five years. She isn’t going to let me down now. Ending the call, I toss the bedsheets aside and wait for Nina and Daniel to stop arguing, so I can leave my bedroom. Lucifur, my cat jumps to the floor, stretching, sinuously, before starting to scratch at the door in his desperation to pay a visit to the litter box. I’m also in need to use the bathroom, but we have to wait ten minutes before the front door of the apartment slams so violently that one of the books on the shelf above my bed falls over. I open the door slowly and stick half of my head out, checking the territory. The living room is clear. Lucifur runs to the laundry room, and I quickly go to check on my best friend. “Nina.” I knock on her door lightly. “I need a minute, Liam.” I mean to insist, but I really need to go to the bathroom. As I walk to the end of the hall, I trip over something on the way. Daniel’s shoes, I notice. Nina and I have been sharing this apartment for years now. I’m familiar with Daniel’s presence there. Every single time he stays the night, the apartment turns into a mess. It’s almost a cosmic intervention to get around when he stays over. Whenever I mention it, he gets defensive and throws random and very unfair things to my face, like the fact that I only got a job thanks to him. And that’s only partially true. Daniel told me about the production assistant position at ‘Fontaine Events’, five years ago. However, surviving the job interview and convincing Maxine Fontaine – aka my boss and the reason for my nightmares – that I’m worthy to work for her agency, was (and still is) my doing, not Daniel’s. Maybe I need to talk to Nina about him. Thinking about my friend and the vanishing truck, I don’t take long in the shower. As I finish, I dry myself and get dressed. I hear my phone buzzing, and smile knowing who it is. Fred always sends me a good morning message before I go to work. But this time it’s different. I frow reading my boyfriend’s message but decide not to put to much thought into it. Fred: Can we meet tonight? – Would love to, Fred. But I can’t. I’m all wrapped up today – Everything that could go wrong is going wrong. Fred: I really need to talk to you, Liam. It’s okay if we see each other late at night. The urgency in Fred’s short message turns on a red light in my head. – Did something happen? Fred: Nothing I can say over the phone. I’ll wait for you at home. That’s weird. Fred isn’t given to mystery. Nor spontaneity. Or to banal things like spending the night on the couch watching a sitcom, going to the movies or leaving the house in general. Fred is a political TV host. He’s discreet. He prefers not to expose his private life (in this case, his relationship with me), so we rarely leave his apartment. I’m still thinking about this as I come out of the bathroom and practically bumps into Nina. “Are you alright?” I ask, worried. “I don’t know.” She shrugs, dragging herself into the kitchen. “I’m so angry, you know.” I follow her, almost tripping over Lucifur, standing beside his bowl, meowing anxiously for breakfast. I open the cupboard over the sink and pick up the bag of food, at the same time Nina starts to prepare the kettle. The smell of coffee fills the small kitchen. “What happened this time?” I want to know, pouring the coloured beans into Lucifur’s bowl. Nina sighs, “It was his secretary this time. I know they are just friends. But… you know, they have been acting very secretive around me these days and today she sent him a message. I only asked him if everything was ok, because it was so early, then he freaked out and accused me of controlling him. We broke up just because I wanted to know if he was having problems at work!” She closes the lid of the coffee pot harder than she should have. “What’s my problem, Liam? Why do I only get involved with idiots?” *Honestly, Daniel is the only idiot you got involved with*. I bite my lip and try not to say that out loud. Nina is a beautiful woman. She has a body that many people envy. Not only that, she’s smart. She was always at the top of her class during high school days. And it was in those days that I met her. Just like me, she is biracial; child of a black mother and a white father. My skin colour is a few shades darker than hers, and being a black kid in a school where the majority of students were white wasn’t easy for me, but Nina made me feel better. We were there for eachother. I didn’t feel so alone whenever she was around. But it isn’t just our skin colour that connected us. We listen and understand eachother without judgement. Nina makes me feel comfortable with who I am. I wasn’t scared to come out to her because I knew she wouldn’t judge me. And I was right. She accepted me and that just made our friendship grow even stronger. It was in university that we met Daniel. Fuckboy, blue eyes, blond hair, tall, handsome, coming from a middle class family Daniel. Nina has dated better guys than him. But somehow she got stuck with him. She knows Daniel isn’t a good boyfriend. He’s womanizer. And I never thought that Nina, the good, romantic, organised and responsible Nina, would throw herself into a relationship with him. I suspect that the problem is in her heart; it’s the size of the world. She will never admit it, but I know that secretly she’s trying to “fix” Daniel, in a similar way she does at her job as the graphic designer of Fontaine. And it never works out because a) Daniel is an asshole with emotional issues that needs a real therapist; and b) nobody changes anyone. People are the way they are until they, themselves decide to do something different about it. Motivation – if it happens – comes from the individual, and not from some feeling of duty, love or any other nonsense. I open my mouth to explain all this to her for the hundredth time, but I give up. What’s the point. Addressing Nina’s relationship with Daniel is identical to explain to Lucifur why he shouldn’t knock things off the table. “Try to look on the bright side.” I go back to the cupboard, picking up a couple of mugs, two plates and the bread packet, and stack them on the white table. “Now you’re free to find a smart, caring guy who is out there, waiting for the moment to meet you.” Playing with her thick curly hair, she widens her eyes. “You know what? You’re absolutely right!” She exclaims, suddenly excited. “I need to stop worrying about Daniel. Fuck that white guy. I deserve better. I will find Mr. Love of my life soon. And I even know how!” I ask myself if my friend has lost her mind for good, because she goes looking for the love of her life inside the fridge. Nina Blog İçerik Tabanlı Sosyal Ağı Sitesi seems a bit out of her mind as she throws random things on the table and then analysing what she caught: an apple, a jar of honey and a little packet of cloves. She starts to bend down on the stool, but I hold her by the shoulders, preventing her from sitting down. “Nina, I’m sorry. I know this is a bad moment, but you have to get ready or you’ll get in trouble with Maxine. Let me get breakfast ready.” She stares at me and begrudgingly acquiesces. But instead of going to her room, she stretches out to pick up a notebook and hands it to me along with a pen. “I want you to cut a small hole into the apple,” she instructs, leaving the kitchen. “Then carefully stick the cloves around the apple, okay?” “Okay.” It doesn’t sound so complicated, although it’s weird. But Nina tends to have weird diets sometimes, so I just do what she asked. “I swear, Liam,” She shouts from her bedroom. “It’s really over this time. I don’t care about about Daniel anymore.” “I hope you’re serious this time.” “Oh, but I am! From now on, all I care about is the right guy. My guy.” She appears in the doorway, buttoning her blouse. “Stick a little more clove. You have to make it look like a hedgehog.” “If only this right guy nonsense existed.” I mumble softly, doing what I’m instructed to. I thought Nina returned to her bedroom, but when I look up, I see that my friend is standing motionless on the doorway. “You know your career would be in jeopardy if anyone else heard you saying that, right?” She gives me a long look. “How can you not believe in true love? You, Liam Weidenfeld, whose job it’s to celebrate love!” “And it’s precisely because of our job that I’m surprised you still believe in this forever nonsense. Last year we organised more divorce parties than weddings.” Nina knows that. They’ve been in the business long enough to know the numbers. The weddings seem to expire as soon as the party lights go off. “What about Fred?” She asks, “Isn’t he your true love?” “You know I don’t believe in that. We understand each other. That’s enough.” I simply reply. With my schedule, having a boyfriend is practically a miracle. Most guys don’t understand that the weekend is my ‘working week’, the period in which most of the parties happen. Luckily, Fred is just as busy on Saturdays and Sundays. So our relationship is going very well, thank you very much. It’s also hard for me to believe that it’s going to last, although we’ve been together for a year now, I would say. We met in a bookstore, both interested in the same book. The discussion about the plot led to coffee, then lunch, then dinner, then a night of sex, and we started dating without even realizing how it happened. Of course I love Fred, but this story of true love, butterflies, blue birds, rainbows and fireworks are things you only find on books. Affinity, respect, affection and trust, that’s what I believe in. At the exact moment I put the last clove into the apple. Lucifur climbs up on the stool and looks at the result of my culinary effort, a little puzzled by the crusty appearance. Yeah, I don’t understand it either. Does Nina intend to eat that apple? “What do I do now?” I raise my face. Nina, already dressed, is still standing in the kitchen doorway. “Can you make a note for me while I get my bag?” She turns her back to me. “On that notebook I gave you!” I take the notebook and start writing down the word she shouts from her bedroom. “‘Love’. What else?” “That’s it!” She goes back to the kitchen, with her bag, making sure she has everything she needs inside. “Now cut the paper, fold it a few times and and put it inside the apple. Then pour the honey over it.” I stop folding the little paper and stare at it in absolute confusion. “Say you’re playing with me,” I plead, exasperated. “Say that this isn’t a spell.” “It is,” She nods, with a savage smile. “I was thinking about doing it for myself, but I came to the realisation that between you and me, you need it the most. ‘Getting along’ isn’t good enough, Liam. It’s not even close.” I leap away from the table until my hips smashes against the sink. “Nina! I can’t believe you made me waste my time with this nonsense. We have to be at work in thirty minutes. The catering truck was stolen, we got a million things to take care of! And I already have a boyfriend for fuck’s sake.” I slam my hands on the sink. The watch on my wrist snaps against the granite, burrowing into my skin. Ignoring the pain, I bring my arm close to my face, worried that the watch broke. I love that watch. It’s my only valuable jewellery. It was given to me by my father before he passed away. “Just in case.” Nina huffs and points at the apple with her nose. “I think you should finish it. You never know what might happen if you leave a spell unfinished. I’m sure there might be a curse or something. Or are you afraid to find out that the guy of your life isn’t Fred?” “It’s not fear. I just don’t want to make a fool of myself. How can you believe that an apple will solve someone’s love life?” A smile begins to dance on her lips. “If it’s not going to work, you don’t have to be afraid to finish the spell.” Argh! What a trickster! If I don’t finish the damn thing, she won’t let me out of that apartment. Impatient, I put the folded paper in the apple and pour the honey over it. “There you go. Satisfied?” “Almost.” She claps her hands together, excited. “Now you need to chant, ‘bring love to me’, three times. And be convincing, it has to come from the depths of your soul. Do it, do it, do it.” “Nah huh, no. Not doing it.” “Liam, you’ve almost done everything. Make me happy! Don’t forget I just broke up with Daniel and I’m super sad right now.” Her lower lip quivers. I rub his forehead, wondering if every person ever has the urge to choke their friend at least once a day. *If I don’t do this, she won’t stop annoying me*. I eventually give in. It’s faster than trying to bring her to her senses. “Bring lov…” “No. Close your eyes, and say it like you mean it.” I close my eyes and take a deep breath. “Bring the love to me. Bring love to me. Bring the love to me.” I’m ready to kick her out the door if I have to, but I freeze when I feel the scent of apple and honey spiraling sweetness through the air and enveloping me in a cocoon. Flashes of stars sparkling onto a red background dance behind my eyelids. Startled, I open my eyes, and the image dissipates like smoke. Satisfied with the conclusion, Nina picks up the apple, put it on a plate and places it in the fridge. “Well let’s go. Or we’re going to be late.” I shake my head to get out of the trance and run into the living room to grab my backpack. I’m in such a hurry to push Nina out and pass the key in the door that I don’t realize that someone is coming down the stairs. Derek, our neighbour in 332 almost runs Nina over. “Oops!” he exclaims. The cardboard box he’s carrying rushes towards the ground. In his haste to save it, he accidentally bumps his hand on Nina’s knee and I swear I hear her meowing. “Sorry.” Derek leans the box on his waist and smiles half-heartedly. I can’t help it but to notice how fine that guy is. The literal definition of tall, dark and handsome. He’s the owner and editor of a black celebrity magazine, has a hot daddy style, too irresistible for anyone to bear. “I didn’t see you guys there.” “Derek, you forgot these too?” Sarah, his wife, appears at the top of the stairs with another box. Derek almost jumps. “Sarah, for God’s sake!” In two broad leaps he reaches her, easing her arms as he balances the second box on top of the one he’s already carrying. “I told you I carry everything. I don’t want you to strain yourself.” “I’m not sick, honey.” she objects, finding it amusing. “Just pregnant.” “That’s why.” He lifts one of his thighs to better balance the load. “Let me do something while you do all the heavy lifting of carrying our baby.” He kisses his wife nose and goes down the stairs before she can complain. “Cleaning day?” I ask. “Moving,” Sarah explains. “We’ve got a house in Bonn. Very spacious and far away from the noisy and stressful city that is Frankfurt.” She strokes the top of her belly. “We’re still coming here from time to time, especially because of work and to visit friends of course.” She smiles at both Nina and I, and we smile back. As she goes back to her apartment, I notice how the pregnancy made her dark brown skin even shinier, and she’s still one of the most beautiful women I’d ever seen. Derek and Sarah were the first neighbors and friends I met while living in Frankfurt. I’m saddened to hear that they are moving away. They were also my first clients as an event planner. I was their wedding planner, something I don’t like to remember very much because it’s also during that time I met Derek’s best friend, Marcel Bergmann. Just thinking about that name makes me angry. “I’m really going to miss looking at Derek’s face everyday.” Nina whispers in a sad tone, completely taking me out of my thoughts. “Well, at least they will be visiting us, from time to time.” I shake my head and walk down the stairs. She’s following behind. “You know, it was Sarah’s grandma that taught me the apple spell. She used to be a witch doctor when they were still living in Jamaica. She knows spells and voodoos that really work.” “And of course you believed in it.” “But of course I did. Have you seen her granddaughter’s husband? Such a fine piece of dark chocolate. Seriously, if a guy like Derek Williams winked at me, I’d run to buy a wedding ring right away to propose to him.” She nudges my waist with her elbow as we walk through the double glass doors of the building. “You’ll thank me one day. Wanna bet?.” “Better not put any money on it.” We reach the pavement and the warm breeze ruffles our clothes, the sun already reflecting off the windows of the low buildings, announcing that we’re in for a hot day – and it isn’t even summer yet. For minute I regret wearing a long sleeved shirt and a tie. Should have opted for much fresh clothes. The owner of the ice cream shop waves as she sees us. The same happens when we pass in front of the pharmacy and the flower shop. It’s one of the Sesli Kitap Dinle things I love the most about the neighborhood: a quiet little piece of a small town in the middle of the metropolis that is Frankfurt. Besides, of course, our apartment is conveniently located just two blocks away from Fontaine Events, so that in just eight minutes we’re passing the entrance to the grey ten-storey building, rubbing our badges on the readers. My shoes squeaks against the black and white granite floor as I hurry towards the elevator. Erik, our co-worker, is already there. “Good morning.” I greet, pressing the elevator’s button. “How was your blind date?” “Didn’t happen.” Erik grimaces, fixing the strap of his backpack on his shoulder. “She didn’t show up.” “Again? That sucks, Erik. I’m sorry.” I squeeze the light circle again. “Has anyone else arrived? Maxine?” “Not that I know of.” “See?” Nina says behind me. “I told you there was no need to rush around.” Erik’s green eyes become translucent when he sees me crushing the button again with my closed fist. “You know Liam, you’re not going to make the elevator come faster just by hitting it, right?” He laughs and I want to punch him. The guy is kind, polite and good humoured, he sees the good side of everything, one of the things I love the most about him. And the most irritating too, like in that instant. Miraculously, the doors open and I push the two of them inside. We squeeze in deeper to make room for the construction crew on the fourth floor. As soon as the doors close, I stretch to reach the panel, pressing the number 7 repeatedly. “Please stop laughing, Erik.” I beg. “You’d be in such a hurry, too, if you knew what happened.” Erik’s posture changes, amusement giving way to astonishment. “Really? Has he already proposed?” He unceremoniously takes my right hand and turns it over, running his thumb across my ring finger. He frowns. “Oh…” “‘Oh’ what? Who proposed to who?” I hear myself asking, although my sense warns me that maybe it’s better not to know. “Yeah, who proposed to who?” Nina asks curiously. The people from the construction company leave the elevator when it arrives their floor. As soon as we are alone and the elevator’s doors close, Erik lets out a resigned sigh. “Sorry, Liam. I didn’t want to spoil the surprise.” “What surprise?” The elevator stops on the seventh floor. Not that I hear the beep; my heart is humming violently in my ears. I think that Erik notices it, for he flattens my back, escorting me out. I walk only two meters, stopping in front of Fontaine’s glass door, waiting for an answer. Visibly annoyed, Erik pushes his backpack to the side, shifting the weight from one leg to the other. “I went to a jewelry store yesterday. I wanted to buy a birthday gift for my mom. That’s when I saw him.” “Who?” I’m losing my patience. “For fuck’s sake just spill out.” “Frederick Schulte.” Erik says. “And he was buying a wedding ring.” With the same expression she would have if someone had invited her to meet her favourite artist in real life, Nina holds me by the shoulders. “Oh my God, Liam!” She exclaims, elated. “Fred’s going to ask you to marry him!” That’s also the conclusion I’m coming to. *Oh, shit…* “No he won’t!” I retort immediately, getting rid of his friend’s hands to look for help in her eyes. All I get from her is one of those smiles from a toothpaste commercial. No. No. No. There has to be another explanation. They must be completely crazy if they think Fred intends to ask for my hand. We never discussed about marriage! Why would he propose such an absurd thing? Well, we’ve been together for a year, and, yes, we have no problems in saying how much we love each other, but getting married? “Of course he will!” declares Nina, unyielding. “What other reason would he have to buy a wedding ring?” “It could be for any number of reasons?” I venture. “For instance?” I nibble my thumbnail. “It can be… it can be…” I look from one to the other, the gears in my brain slowing with each second. Fuck, how hard is it to think of a single reason? An immense smile stretches Nina’s face. “I’ll tell you what’s going to happen, Liam,” she announces. “Fred is going to take you to his house, seduce you with champagne, candlelight and sweet words, and tomorrow morning you’ll wake up with a ring on your finger!” “Not going to happen. He wouldn’t do something like that.” I open my backpack, looking for the keys to open the agency’s door. Fred knows how I feel about marriage. He wouldn’t spoil our relationship with this subject, right? Why would he be stupid enough to want to get married? Holy shit, what will I tell him? ‘Yes’ is out of the question. I don’t want to marry Fred. I don’t want to marry anyone in general. I’m totally focused on my career and my mom’s health. If – and it’s a giant if – I ever think about sharing my life with anyone, it will be after I stabilize myself in the events business, and my mother is well enough to attend my wedding. Besides, Fred is a thoughtful man. He always double-checks if the condom is properly fitted before putting in, for God’s sake! Of course he isn’t going to ask for my hand without checking the territory and make sure that it’s safe to move. I remember the last time we were together. As usual, we met in his house, Fred ordered food and we ate while watching the political show he hosts and I discreetly tried to clean the noodles with the tip of my sock that I accidentally dropped on the sofa. Then Fred started talking about politics as usual. His favourite subject. Not in the least bit romantic. *I’m getting carried away by Nina’s romantic fantasy.* I think as I enter Fontaine Events and pass the tall reception desk in front of the black and white panel of the silhouette of a couple in love in a country setting. *There’s no reason to freak out. He won’t ask me to marry him, I’m sure.* Before I can cross the corridor of tables profiled in front of the giant mural of posters of the most beautiful events we’ve ever produced and hide in my office, my feet clatter to the wooden floor. I stare at the bright red door to my boss’s office as Fred’s message and his insistence on meeting me that night explodes in my mind. *Oh my God. Does he really want to propose to me?!* “I was wrong. Completely wrong. Fred is your true love! He is….” Nina eyes widens even more. “God in heaven! Liam, the spell worked!” “What worked?” Michael asks as he enters the room, biting into a chocolate cake, a brown paper bag in the other hand. “The spell!” Nina answers, still rolling around. “Liam’s getting married.” “I’m not!” I frown at her. Of course the spell didn’t work at all. Things like that don’t even exist for real. Imagine if Fred – the always logical Fred – would just lose touch with reason just because I put a paper in an apple and stuck cloves in it. It’s as ridiculous as thinking that horoscopes can change the lives of people who read them. Besides, Fred was in the jewelry store the day before we did the spell. However, it’s easier to try convincing Nina that I can turn into a platypus than to persuade her that the idea is utter nonsense. “Yes, you will!” Nina ignores me, advancing towards Michael’s paper bag. “Do you still have any left?” “What spell was that?” Michael asks handing Nina the bag. Well, it isn’t exactly a surprise that Michael seems so interested. The tall, muscled and blond electrical engineer that makes every client develop a crush on him. Even I had an instant crush on him as soon as we met, but the crush vanished after five minutes of conversation. Not only he’s straight as a door, but he also has no filter when talking about his life and what comes to his mind. The first time we talked, the guy casually mentioned how his poop looked like a Pokeball that morning. He doesn’t mean any harm, I found that out in the years of working together. He’s one of the nicest guys I know, he just doesn’t know the time and place to talk about certain things. He’s also always curious to know what’s going on in the angency, so, of course, he listens with eager Nina talking about the spell. “I can’t believe it worked. I was supposed to be proposed to. Instead, I’m burning up on calories to forget I broke up with Daniel.” Michael gives me an ‘Again?’ look, while a “Fuck” is uttered loudly at the entrance. Katya, a little fumbled with her bag and coffee cup, tripped over something, and the hot drink tinted the front of her yellow shirt. I grab some tissues from the box on Nina’s desk and go to help her, but she manages first, pulling a stack of documents from the counter at the entrance and pressing them on her clothes. I groan. Katya is new. She still doesn’t have a defined position, just like me when I first joined. Katya does a little bit of everything, from reception to coffee. However, unlike Erik, hired almost in the same time as her and who absorbs everything I try to transmit, the girl lives in her own world and sees no problem in using important documents as tissues. Before I can ask her to stop, my phone vibrates inside my backpack, and I think it’s Stephanie with some news about the stolen truck. But it’s a notification from Instagram. Okay, it isn’t just any notification; it’s a notification that Bianca Giesinger posted a picture. My heart beats faster. This can be the post I’ve been waiting for for so long. Bianca is the sole heiress of Juliana Giesinger, owner of the clothing and accessories brand Giesinger. She’s also one of the most most influential, stylish and beloved women in Germany. In other words, everything I need to convince Maxine to promote me. If I ever host an event for someone like Bianca, my career will explode, and consequently, so will my bank balance. I caught a glimpse of her the year before. She was one of the guests at a wedding Fontaine was contracted to organise, but the craziness of the party kept me busy almost the whole time, and when I went to introduce myself to her, she had already left. But I haven’t given up yet, and I dream that Bianca can be one of my brides one day. There is only one small detail: Bianca doesn’t have a boyfriend or girlfriend, as far as the media knows. So I follow her on social media with the same anxiety that I have when counting the days in the Exxen calendar waiting for my days off, always hoping that her next post will mention a new love. Because, as soon as she changes her status, I’ll go after her. *Oh, if only…* Sadly, this isn’t my lucky day, I realize, as I admire the picture of the beautiful redhead woman with dark green eyes, holding a big mug, reclining on the white sofa of the penthouse where she lives with her mother, with the caption ‘Recharging my energies.’ It’s okay. Not today, but someday. He put the phone in my pants pocket. The sharp signal from the elevator announces someone’s arrival. I jump, snatching the bag of cupcakes from Nina’s hand and hiding it behind my back, but I’m not fast enough. Maxine Fontaine enters the room, her heels clattering on the wooden floor, bag on her forearm, her brown eyes absorbing every detail: the crumbs around Nina’s mouth, the glistening frosting on Michael’s cheek, the coffee stain on Katya’s shirt. “Weidenfeld, in my office. Now.” Without waiting for an answer, her hips swivels towards the red door. A little dizzy, I hand the brown paper bag to Katya and follow my boss. Ah, shit. She’s going to ask me about the progress of that night’s event and I have to tell her the truth, because Stephanie still hasn’t given any sign of life. But it isn’t just the graduation party of a private school, whose tuition price is the same as selling your organs in the black market (and even that still won’t be enough to pay for it), that makes the pit of my stomach tremble. It’s the possibility of me losing my big chance to get promoted. Maxine is a tall brunette woman in her early forties. She is demanding, discreet and cold. When she speaks to an employee, she rarely smiles. She speaks slowly but firmly. Her strong french accent gives away her origin. She dresses with class and elegance. She isn’t an easy person to deal with, especially on Mondays and Fridays mornings when she returns from her acupuncture session (and I coincidentally always have something super-important to do somewhere in the city in those days), and then she fires off messages randomly, in Caps Lock, with so many exclamation and question marks that, I swear, even my phone quickly starts losing battery because it’s also scared of her. This is probably one of the reasons why her ex-husband, divorced her and put an end to their partnership of more than ten years. Without his influence and contacts, and with the agency’s rebranding, she lost clients, important ones, which left her suspicious of her own shadow. With the departure of her ex-husband and only a third of the staff, we are buried in work, performing so many tasks that I, myself have to struggle to remember what’s my position in there. ‘General Assistant’, my card says, but in practice, I’m doing Maxine’s job really. Looking after the contracts, the support teams suppliers, service providers, monitoring the pre and post-party… It isn’t fair that I have to take on all the responsibility and not being paid for it. I give my best and I only wants what is rightfully mine. By the look on Maxine’s face as soon as I set foot in her office, she didn’t call me there to give me a promotion. I keep my posture upright as I approach her desk, stopping behind an armchair flowered in shades of red. I don’t dare to sit down. “Who’s responsible for that caloric bomb?” she asks, throwing her bag on the dark wooden table. “The people from the building company had a party and left some cookies for us.” I lie. She can’t fire an employee from another company. I’m almost sure of that. “Get rid of them and warn the people on the fourth floor that I’m sugar intolerant.” She pulls out the black leather chair and settles into it. “As for the staff’s appearance, if any of them dare to attend a Fontaine event in that state they will be turned into a keychain, am I clear?” “Yes ma’am.” Rummaging through her bag, she pulls out her address book, tapping her nails on the dark leather cover as she examines me from head to toe. “All set for tonight?” “Ah… yes.” I forge a smile out of desperation. It isn’t a lie. Everything is indeed ready. Of course Stephanie can’t say the same, but Maxine hasn’t asked about the chef, right? “Excellent. I called you here because we have an incredible possibility before us. A very promising artist intends to exhibit his work in the city…” She explains to me about this Ivan Sokolov, a Russian artist who promises to be the Salvador Dalí of this generation. I hurry to get my notepad and a pen from my backpack, and begin to take notes. “Sokolov has agreed to receive you in his studio in Dusseldorf,” she concludes. “Tomorrow, half past six in the morning. You’re leaving tonight. Prepare something striking and tasteful to convince him to sign with Fontaine.” I nod, writing the information on the notebook. Then I pay attention to what I wrote, specifically the words ‘train’, ‘leaving’ and ‘tonight’, which I underlined twice. I crane my neck to face my boss. “But Maxine, we have the graduation party tonight. I have to go to the ballroom in an hour. We started setting up yesterday, but there’s still a lot to do.” “I’m sure you’ll manage to prepare something worthy of the good name of this agency.” When? I want to ask. How can I improvise a presentation for the next day if I’m going to spend the whole day organising a party? There isn’t the slightest possibility that I can create a remotely decent presentation while balancing on a ladder to adjust a curtain, or have my hands full of plates and cutlery. Meanwhile, Maxine shoos me out of her office with a hand gesture, putting an end the conversation. From her desk, Nina sees me standing in front of the red door and arches an eyebrow. I just shake my head and go to my office, hidden among the fabric samples, piles of invitation templates and all kinds of party decoration. I intend to call Stephanie and, maybe start preparing my funeral in case she hasn’t heard about the food yet, but my phone rings before I can do that. “I’m thinking of making that lasagna you love, Liam,” I hear my mother telling me, excited, as soon as I pick up the phone. “Maybe like this you’ll come to visit me.” “I wish I could, mom.” I sigh, opening a PowerPoint file of an old presentation to use as the basis. “But I’m only leaving Frankfurt when I have to work in another city. Like for instance, I’m meeting a client in Dusseldorf tomorrow. How are you feeling?” I ask, holding my breath, unable to hold back hope. “I’m doing good. I’m taking care the garden now, and, you know, the oddest thing happened.” “Hmm?” “I was sure that yesterday the hyacinths were blooming, but today I found only buds that were still green. Did I dream that they had blossomed? You know that I get anxious when I wait for the bloom and…” she goes on telling me about the beloved flowers, and I just listen to her. Her voice is the best sound in the world, even if the word sometimes hurts me. However, something distracts her, for I hear several clicks, and then her footsteps moving away. “Mom?” I call. “Mom, are you there?” I wait a full minute before hanging up, overcome by the usual sense of despair. And there lies the reason I’ve been daydreaming about an epic wedding that will draw the attention of the press and my boss to me. I’m not so keen on getting promoted for professional accomplishment – although, of course, it might be great – but what really interests me is the producer’s salary, that is four times my current one. Then I won’t have to spend sleepless nights worrying about how to get the money to bring my mother to Frankfurt and pay for her treatment without having to rob a bank. At that moment all my brother and I can do is to pay for some medications and take care of her. While I’m in Frankfurt working, Lukas is in Heidelberg taking care of our mother, who needs someone with her 24/7. My mother was involved in a serious car accident years after our father had passed away. It was weeks of uncertainty until she woke up from the coma and I could breathe again. However, a few days after she’d woken up, we realized there was something wrong with her brain. Lukas, tho two years younger than me, used to console me saying that no one faces a battle with death without side effects. Our mother’s aren’t visible, they are in the hippocampus, the part of the brain responsible for storing memories. She remembers absolutely everything up to the day of the accident. After that, nothing else. No new memory can’t be created in her bruised brain. She can follow a conversation, but if anything distracts her, the wind, a loose thread in her clothing, the song of a bird, then the last few minutes will fade and she will find herself lost, not understanding where she is and who she is talking to. My father met her in university. She got a scholarship in Angola to study in Germany. She decided to stay here after graduating. They moved to my father’s home city, Heidelberg, where they got married, she got German citizenship and had two kids with him. Not long after my 16th birthday, my father had an heart attack and passed away. My had now to raise us by herself. She went through a lot, to make sure we had a proper life. I can’t let her down. And it’s with her in mind that I straighten up in my chair, Googling the name Ivan Sokolov in hope of gaining some insight into his personality and thus creating something that will please him. I’ll then head to the graduation party and remain at the event until it’s time to go to Dusseldorf. ‘Buy tickets’, I write at the top of the notebook. I’ll take advantage of the 2h train trip to put the finishing touches on the project. And I can continue working into the early hours of the morning, as soon as I arrive at the hotel… Then, amidst the bitter taste that the possibility of failure has left in my mouth, I realize something of utmost importance: I’ll be in another city that night. I won’t be able to meet up with Fred. And, if I can’t see him, he won’t have any chance to ask me for marriage. Not that I believe that Fred really intends to do it. There has to be a good explanation for the ring… But what if Nina is right? I can’t say yes. But also saying no will certainly have consequences. Am I about to lose the only normal thing in my life? I stare at the red and white graph until the computer screen goes blank and wonder what is my problem. Why can’t I be happy to know that my boyfriend loves me so much to the point of wanting to share the rest of our lives together? What am I waiting for?

Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

kurtköy escort ankara escort ensest hikayeler sakarya escort sakarya escort içmeler escort escort malatya escort kayseri escort eryaman escort pendik escort tuzla escort kartal escort kurtköy çankaya escort maltepe escort izmir escort bayan izmir escort gaziantep escort ankara escort kayseri escort gaziantep escort ataşehir escort üsküdar escort kartal escort mersin escort ankara escort kocaeli esgort beylikdüzü escort esenyurt escort izmir escort bayan izmir escort izmir escort ankara escort mecidiyeköy escort sincan escort kızılay escort rus escort keçiören escort konuşanlar izle mersin escort kızılay escort escort ankara hack forum eryaman escort escort demetevler escort ankara escort bayan mersin escort bahis siteleri canlı bahis canlı bahis canlı bahis bahis siteleri bahis siteleri