#like online chain places are hiring but i’m sorry there’s no way in hell i’ll be able to work in starbucks or anything

[selfconsumerofmywoes]

kind of miss working in a cafe - would love to work in one a few hours a week but i literally have no idea how to go about getting a job in a city

[wefoundloveunderthelight]

Love, War, and Books by GleefullyCaptainSwan

Chapter 3/3 Notes:

Thank you so much for reading and going along on this journey. This 3 chapter AU took me more time to write than any of my other fics, I really stepped outside my comfort zone with this as I prefer to write original stories and struggled with an AU based on something everyone knows and loves. I haven't liked every word, but I grew to love the tale and I hope you did too.

Read on AO3: | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

Or on FF

Stacy's Tortured Crew: @teamhook @kmomof4 @stahlop @lfh1226-linda @ilovemesomekillianjones @itsfabianadocarmo @mariakov81 @qualitycoffeethings @zaharadessert @jrob64 @jonesfandomfanatic @natascha-ronin @tiganasummertree @xarandomdreamx @therooksshiningknight @batana54 @superchocovian @onceratheart18 @ultraluckycatnd @snowbellewells @karlyfr13s @the-darkdragonfly

Chapter 3: The Book of You

“Well now that you’ve put her out of business, I wonder if she would come work for me? She’d be an excellent children’s book editor.”

Killian made a snorting sound, “I’m pretty sure she wouldn’t work for anyone associated with me.”

“I think I’m going to offer her a job anyway.”

“She wouldn’t be good for you; she lacks that killer instinct you like in your employees. What is it you always say, never apologize as long as you win?”

“Like you’re one to talk, you’re just as insensitive as I am, I don’t even know why we’re having this conversation.” She complained, punching the button on the elevator to their floor. “The only reason I have the chance to hire her is because you put her out of business.” She narrowed her eyes. “Who’s insensitive now?”

Killian internally groaned, watching the numbers on the elevator move slowly as Milah droned on beside him. Emma would never work for someone like her, she could never be as cutthroat as he had seen Milah behave. She wasn’t like her, or for that matter, him. Emma was a rare breed.

The elevator jerked violently to pull him from his thoughts, lights flickering on and off as it came to a shuddering halt.

“What the hell!” Milah yelled as the other occupants in the elevator began tapping on the buttons.

“I’m sure it’s just a technical issue.” He offered reassuringly. Milah pulled out her phone, dialing and waiting impatiently for someone to answer. He leaned against the wall, smiling at the woman with her young daughter. “They’ll get us out shortly, no need to worry.”

“No one is answering, how incompetent do you have to be to not know how to pick up a phone?”

“Milah, it’s possible there was an electrical outage that affected more than us, I’m sure the phone lines are busy.”

“I’ll be putting in my complaint to the city.” She squealed and Killian pushed himself down toward the floor, sitting on the ground and removing his jacket.

“I’m sure they’ll be awaiting your call with bated breath.” He grumbled to himself. “Shouldn’t be long, someone will come and get us out.” He announced to the group. “Might as well get comfortable.”

Three hours later and Milah was testing his nerves. He had expected her complaints to die down once the air in the elevator had gotten thicker and harder to take breaths, but it seemed to only intensify her anger.

“When I get out of here, I’m going to call my daughter and apologize. I haven’t spoken to her in 3 weeks, and I don’t even remember what we were fighting about.” The man beside him spoke to no one in particular. Killian smiled at the man; it was a lovely sentiment.

“When I get out of here, I’m going to apply for that job I’ve been scared to be rejected from. Even if I don’t get it, at least I will have tried.”

Milah jumped in, “When I get out of here, I’m going to get Botox.” She announced, staring at herself in her hand mirror and pulling at her skin. Killian rolled his eyes. He knew exactly what he was going to do when he got out of here.

“When I get out of here…” He began.

“Do you have my gum?” Milah interrupted and Killian exhaled, reaching into his jacket beside him to pull out his gum and toss it toward her. The moment was gone, but the second he left the elevator he did exactly what the moment called for. He told Milah it was over between them.

She barely gave up a fight, as he gathered his items, promising to return to pick up the rest of his stuff, and taking Smee out the door with him. Killian didn’t care, he was just happy he could stop pretending. He realized in that elevator that his and Milah’s relationship had always been pretend. He dated her because it was the next logical step in their relationship, they moved in together because that’s what you do when you’ve been dating for as long as they had. She was in the book business, she had contacts that he used selfishly for his own business, and beyond that they had nothing else in common with each other. It was over before it had even begun.

Killian sat down in front of his computer, he wanted to talk to Emma. She was the first person he thought about when faced with what he was going to do once he left that elevator. He needed to come clean to Emma, tell her who he was. But he knew that once he did that, it was all over. She would never speak to him again. But maybe, maybe if she got to know the real him, the real Killian Jones, maybe he wouldn’t lose her.

JR10: Tonight, I got in the elevator, something I do every day. Three hours later I got out of the elevator and Smee and I moved out of my shared apartment. It was like the smoke had cleared and everything just made sense to me. It’s a long story, full of all those little details we don’t share about ourselves, maybe one day we will.

~*~

Emma stared at the screen in front of her. He had been living with someone. She couldn’t be angry; she had been doing the same. She understood how he was feeling though, the smoke clearing. It was exactly how she felt with August. Like the world just opened to her and suddenly she got tired of playing the game. She just wanted to be happy and clearly she hadn’t been.

Lonelygirl: Change is a funny thing isn’t it? It’s like dominoes. One little thing changes and suddenly there is this chain reaction and when you look up everything around you has changed. Six months ago, when I met you online, I knew exactly who I was, what my life was going to look like, and where I would be for the rest of my life. Now I know nothing. My store closed this week. I haven’t told you I owned a store, but I did. It was a beautiful little bookstore that my mother had when she was alive. And maybe I held onto it so fiercely because it was my way of keeping her alive, but either way, it closed and I’m heartbroken. It’s like my mother has died all over again and there’s nothing anyone can do to make it right.

Emma walked down the street, looking up to see the Jones Books logo staring down at her, mocking her. She bit her lip and walked up to the door, yanking it open forcefully as if somehow her strength was going to topple the entire building to the ground.

She marveled at the size of the inside, stairs leading to a second and third floor, lights hanging in every corner, large comfortable chairs full of patrons sitting together, reading books. The place was full, she’d never seen so many people in a such a large space before. The registers were full of customers purchasing armfuls of books. She climbed the stairs slowly, stopping when she saw the children’s section.

It was a marvel, bright, colorful, with stuffed animals lying around for children to play with. She sat down on a large bean bag, tears falling softly down her face.

“Do you have the shoe books?” A woman asked one of the employees standing a few feet away from her.

“Shoe books? Who’s the author?” Emma rolled her eyes.

“I don’t know the author, my friend just told me that I need to find the shoe books.”

“Neal Streatfeild. The author is Neal Streatfeild, he wrote all the shoe books.” She announced to the pair as the tears started to come faster. “I’d start with skating shoes, though ballet shoes are just as beautiful.” She said with a snort, looking up to see them staring at her with a tentative look of concern. She wiped her nose with her sleeve and stood up, quickly exiting the building.

~*~

Killian stared at his computer. Sadness overtaking him at her words. He really was the bad guy.

“Cora and I are over.” Killian looked up at his dad.

“So soon, you just got engaged.”

“She was dating the nanny.”

He burst into laughter. “Well, that makes up for you leaving Kristen for the nanny.”

“No, Kristen was the nanny, I was with Kelly at the time.”

“Ah, so many, I lose track.”

Killian turned his attention back to his computer.

JR10: I’m so sorry about your store. I don’t know what else to say that doesn’t sound trite and inconsiderate. I hope that you will be alright.

He sent the message, but he felt sick inside.

“How’s the store? Business must be booming, and I heard that the children’s book lady finally closed.” His father poured himself a drink. “You met her; do you think she would date me?”

His father handed him a glass and Killian sighed. “On to the next, I guess.” He said with a shrug.

“Father and son, back together again.”

Killian could hardly believe that as much as he tried to not be like his father, here he was living on his boat, parked on the slip right next to where his father was currently hiding out in his. Father and son, indeed.

The next few days he went in search of a new apartment, checked in with Belle at the store, and waited anxiously for a reply from Lonelygirl. When he had heard no response from her after a week, he decided to reach out again.

JR10: Why haven’t you written back? Are you alright?

When Emma didn’t reply, he walked to the store, checking in to make sure that everything was going as expected for the new store. Business had taken off in the past week, Belle had made a very important hire, bringing in Will Scarlett from The Golden Swan to run the children’s book section.

After Killian had observed Emma in his store, listened as his employee was unable to assist a customer, he challenged Belle with the task of bringing in the best department head she could find for the children’s section. Will may not have seemed like the best option for customer services with his dry wit, his sour attitude, or his arrogant behavior, but when it came to children, the man turned into a new person. He told stories, acted out the parts, played the different voices, and children flocked to him. He was a rare find in their world.

When he returned home later that evening, he found a new message from Emma.

Lonelygirl: I’m sick. I can’t stop sneezing, my ears are clogged, my nose is blocked. I feel terrible. I haven’t left my bed in days. The worst part is that all I can do now is sit here and think about my life. Who am I kidding? What life? What am I going to do now?

Killian groaned, if he felt worse before he felt terrible now. He had ruined this woman’s life. And now here she was feeling like she had no future. He caused that. She was a bright woman with a bright future, and he needed her to know that too.

He jumped up from his chair, rushing out the door.

Ten minutes later he was standing in front of the brick apartment, staring up at the windows above him. This was a risk, but he needed to take it.

~*~

Emma lay in bed, sneezing for yet the fifteenth time that hour. She felt terrible. She closed her eyes, trying to find sleep when the buzzing forced her eyes open. “Oh God, not now.” She groaned, pulling herself up from her bed and stumbling through the apartment. The sound buzzed again, and she put her hands to her ears. “Please stop doing that.” She moaned. Pressing the button to the intercom.

“Go away.” She yelled into the box.

“Hi, Hello. This is Killian Jones.”

Emma stood back from the door like it shocked her. What the hell was he doing at her apartment?

“Go away.” She repeated. She had no idea what that asshole was doing at her apartment but whatever it was, it wasn’t a concern of hers.

“Can I come up?”

“No that’s a terrible idea. I’m sick, I haven’t been sleeping, I might be contagious so I would really appreciate it if you…”

There was a loud knock on the door she was currently leaning against. She jumped at the sound. “Hello?”

Emma stood back from the door. Killian Jones was standing outside her apartment. She looked around the room, scattered used tissue paper littering every surface, blankets draping the floor and chairs. She ran around the room, gathering items in her arms, tossing garbage away as fast as she could.

“Emma?” She heard his voice on the other side of the door. She looked down at the pajamas she was in and looked around anxiously for anything to cover herself up with. Reaching for the closest item she could find she wrapped the long coat around her and tightened the belt before reaching for the door.

Opening the door, she came face to face with her worst enemy, holding a bundle of flowers. “Why are you here?”

“I heard you were sick, I wanted to check on you.”

Emma stared at him, open mouthed. This was a new development, she didn’t think empathy was a trait of his. “You put me out of business. Are you here to gloat or offer me a job?”

“I wouldn’t think of it.” He announced, stepping into her apartment, and slipping past her into her living room.

“Hey!” She said, spinning around and following him. “I’ll have you know, I already got offered a job by your girlfriend.”

“Ex-girlfriend actually.” He offered and Emma narrowed her eyes in his direction.

“Oh, what happened?”

“We broke up.”

“Oh, that’s terrible you two seemed perfect for each other.” She slapped her hand over her mouth. She did it again. Said something really awful just to hurt someone. That wasn’t who she was. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry, I don’t know why I said that it was really mean. I’m not like that, but every time I’m around you…”

“I know, the words just fly out of your mouth.” He offered with a laugh.

“Yes actually, but I’m sorry. Thank you for coming. But I think you should leave.” She opened the door and tapped her foot.

“I brought you flowers.” He said instead of walking out the opened door. He held them toward her, a beautiful array of snowbells. “Do you have a vase?” He turned and walked back through her house, wandering off toward the kitchen.

“Where are you going?” She argued, chasing him through the house.

“They need water, you should sit down, you’re sick.” Emma stared at him dumbfounded. What the hell was this man doing here? She sat down lazily onto her couch, staring toward the kitchen to see if she could see the man who was currently invading her life. He stuck his head out of the kitchen doorway, “Did you know that Will came to work for me? He’s a great kid. He’s the one who told me you were feeling sick. Did you know he has a PHD in children’s literature?”

Emma nodded absentmindedly and mumbled to herself. “Of course, I knew that.”

He returned to the room with the flowers and Emma smiled at the large bouquet of beautiful buds that almost lit up the room. “When did you break up?”

“What?”

“With your girlfriend, when did you break up?”

He put the flowers down, quietly speaking. “A couple of weeks ago.”

“Everyone is breaking up recently. This other person I know broke up with his girlfriend in an elevator. Or outside one or near it, something. It was stuck. And then everything was clear.” She said, her mind hazy. “When I saw you that night, at the restaurant, he’s the one I was waiting for and I was…”

“Enchanting.” He said almost reverently which caused Emma to snort.

“I was not enchanting, I was mean, you said it yourself.”

“Well, you looked enchanting” He said, before turning back to the kitchen and rummaging through her cabinets. “Tea?”

Emma nodded, “Top cabinet on the left.” She mumbled, blowing her nose into the tissue in her lap.

“Well, I was upset that night. And I was really rude.”

“I was the rude one, love.” He replied, handing her a cup.

“Yes, but I have no excuse.” She grabbed the flowers, the tea, and her blanket and walked toward her bedroom.

He followed her, “Whereas I am a horrible human being and thus have no excuse but to be rude. Correct?”

“No that’s not what I meant.” She said before sneezing violently. “I’m done being a mean person, even to you.” She crawled into her bed.

“But I put you out of business. You’re allowed to hate me.”

“I don’t hate you.” She sighed.

“But you’ll never forgive me.” He added with an almost sincere expression on his face, to the point that Emma almost believed that he felt sorry for ruining her life. She knew that was ridiculous because Killian Jones was a ruthless businessman, he wasn’t sorry for doing his job.

“You don’t care if you get my forgiveness or not.”

“It wasn’t personal.” He said softly.

“It was business.” She laughed. “What does that even mean? I’m so sick of it. All it means is that it wasn’t personal to you, but it was personal to me. What’s wrong with personal?”

“Nothing.” He added seriously.

“Exactly, if anything, it should at least start as being personal.” Emma shook her head, “My head is fuzzy, I need to go to bed.” She crawled into her blankets. “Why are you here again?”

“I thought maybe we could be friends.”

“You are crazy.” She laughed.

“I know, I guess it was too much to expect. Can I ask you something?”

“Well, you’re here aren’t you.”

“What happened with that guy from the Café?”

Emma’s shoulders sagged. “Nothing.”

“But you’re crazy about him?” He asked, a look of hope in his eyes she didn’t understand.

“I am.”

“Then why don’t you run off with him? Start a new life with this lucky man.”

Emma frowned. She knew she was about to sound completely stupid. “I don’t actually know him.” He smiled at her, and Emma was waiting for the retort. “We met…” Don’t tell him Emma. “You are going to think this is ridiculous.”

“You met him online.”

Her eyes widened. “Yes.”

He pulled the blankets up to her chest, a move that suddenly felt very personal and warm. “Well, I’m happy for you both. But I think maybe you should meet him, love.”

She laughed nervously, “I don’t think I need to take advice from someone who…”

His hand slipped against her lips, and they immediately tingled from his touch. “I’ll save you from saying something else you’ll regret.” His thumb grazed her bottom lip as he pulled it away. “Get better, Emma.”

She stared at him dumbfounded. “Uh huh.”

He smiled, his blue eyes shining down at her and causing her stomach to make unexpected flips. What was happening to her? It must be the medication.

“Goodbye.”

“Goodbye.” She repeated as she watched him retreat from her apartment and shut the door.

~*~

Killian couldn’t stop thinking about Emma as the days went by. He had almost given up hope that his words to her at her apartment had fallen on deaf ears when he got the message two days later.

Lonelygirl: I’ve been thinking a lot lately, and I think maybe we should meet.

He smiled. Now he just needed to work on his relationship with her. Get her to know the real Killian Jones before he told her he was JR10.

JR10: Of course, we will meet, but right now I’m in the middle of a project that needs…tweaking.”

It’s showtime.

He left the house ten minutes early, taking the route that would get him to Starbucks. He stood in line, keeping his distance from the blonde woman at the front of the line. When she turned to face him, his mouth dropped in fake surprise.

“Emma?”

Emma stopped, “Killian?”

“How funny running into you here. Do you come here often?”

“Just every morning.” She laughed. “What are you doing here?”

“Weird, I come here every day too. Funny how we’ve never run into each other before. You look like you’re feeling better.”

She smiled. “Yes, much, thank you. Well, I should…”

He nodded, “Yes of course, nice seeing you.”

He ordered his drink and walked slowly past the table she was sitting at. Looking around he mumbled to himself. “It’s always so busy in here. Nowhere to sit.” Looking down he made eye contact with Emma and she sighed.

“Do you want to sit down?”

“Yes, thank you. How have you been?”

“Great.” She said shortly. “I’ve started writing a book.”

“That’s wonderful news. How’s that fellow of yours? Have you met him yet?”

She looked down at her newspaper. “No.”

“No? What’s stopping you?”

She exhaled loudly. “He said he’s working on a project that needs tweaking.”

“Tweaking? What does that even mean?” He paused. “I bet he’s married.”

Her mouth dropped. “No, that’s not possible.”

“Have you asked him?”

“Of course not, how do you just ask someone if they’re married?”

“Pretty sure you say, are you married?” He laughed.

When he got home that evening, he found a message from Emma that made him smile.

Lonelygirl: I’ve been meaning to ask, are you married?

JR10: How could you ask me that? I thought we knew each other better than that. Wait, are your friends telling you that I’m probably married?”

That evening, after conveniently running into Emma at her favorite diner, he casually brought up her internet friend.

“So, he didn’t answer the question?”

Emma paused and then put her hand to her mouth. “I guess he didn’t, did he?”

“Maybe he’s fat.”

“Killian!” She exclaimed. “I don’t care about that.”

“You don’t care that maybe he’s horribly disfigured or walks with a limp. Maybe he spits when he talks.”

“I highly doubt that.” She snorted.

“Why else would he be taking so long to meet you? Maybe he’s…” He opened his mouth and then closed it.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“Killian, what?”

“What if he’s waiting until he gets out of prison.”

“Oh stop. Will already thought he was a murderer.”

“What’s his username?”

“I’m not going to tell you his username.”

“It might help tell who he is.”

“Fine, JR10.”

“What kind of a name is that?” He huffed.

“Maybe it’s his initials.” She offered.

“Or how many tons he weighs. Just Round 10 tons.” He teased and she burst into laughter. “Or how old he is! Maybe you found a technological genius who is 10 years old.”

“Could be an address or a location…” She laughed. “No that would be stupid.” Killian tried not to choke on his coffee. “Either way, it doesn’t matter. I mean besides being married or in prison, the only other deal breaker is the boat thing.”

“Boat thing?” He inquired.

“I could never be with a man who has a boat.” She said simply.

“I have a boat.” He said, his tone serious. “So that settles it.” She looked at him with confusion. “We’ll never be together.” He met her gaze, not breaking the contact.

“So, what is the book about?” He asked, changing the subject.

“It’s a children’s book, I know this editor from the store who wants to read it as soon as I’m done writing it. You know, JR10, he was the one who really made me think about writing.”

“You mean Mister 10 felonies committed before age 24?” he teased.

“More like Mister 10 ways into my soul.” She said almost lovingly, and he felt the desire to reach across the table and kiss her. “It’s weird how much we’ve been running into each other lately.”

“Wanna run into each other say, tomorrow, round lunch time?”

“Sounds great.” She said with a genuine smile.

Killian thought about Emma his entire walk home. The way her hair glowed bright with the sun shining on her, or how her eyes were the perfect shade of green. It was becoming harder to fight the urge to kiss her each time he saw here. He needed to tell her who he was, soon.

JR10: How about meeting me tomorrow? 4pm. The park on 88th. Where the flowers bloom in the garden and the path curves. You’ll find me there.

~*~

Emma stared at her computer. She was finally going to meet him. A part of her was excited, the other part of her was feeling something else that she couldn’t put her finger on. She’d been focused so much on meeting this man but between those moments she had formed something of a friendship with Killian Jones. It was a friendship that somehow she had learned to value.

He had offered her advice on her book, some to talk to about JR10, and in the times when they were together, a companionship that she had been missing. It was like he understood her better than anyone she had ever known before.

They were meeting for hot dogs for lunch, she was happy for the distraction from her nerves of meeting JR10later that evening. Killian would know the right thing to say to her to calm her down and prepare her for this meeting.

“Today?”

“I know right? This afternoon.”

“That’s very exciting, I bet he’s the clock maker on 82nd. You’ll never need to have your clock fixed again.”

“Stop. That guys like a hundred years old.”

His mouth grew wide. “That’s it, he’s 10 centuries old.”

Emma rolled her eyes. “You’re ridiculous.” She bit into her hot dog, ignoring the way he was watching her. Lately he had been looking at her with a feeling that was almost akin to want. Which was ridiculous but also gave her butterflies for some reason.

“He was smart. He waited until you were certain there was no other man in your life that you could love.” She glanced at him and nodded but then he set his hot dog down and stared at her, his blue eyes glistening in the sunlight. “Sometimes I wonder…”

“What?” She asked anxiously, feeling like whatever he was about to say was important.

“If I wasn’t Jones Books, and you weren’t The Golden Swan, and we met…”

“Don’t do that.” She interrupted.

“I would have asked for your number, and I wouldn’t have waited until I got home to call you. I would have asked you out for drinks, dinner, and your every desire, for as long as we both shall live.”

“Killian.” She warned.

“And then we wouldn’t have gone to war, and I wouldn’t have put you out of business.”

“Killian, please don’t.” Her heart was pounding in her chest.

“Can I ask you something?”

“I need to go.” She couldn’t be standing here listening to Killian saying these words to her, not now, not when she was finally getting to meet the man of her dreams.

“How come you can forgive him for standing you up, but you can’t forgive me for this tiny little thing of putting you out of business.” He reached out, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Oh, how I wish you would.”

“I need to go.”

“You don’t want to be late.”

She turned away from him quickly, practically running down the sidewalk to put space between them. She needed to stop herself from turning around and kissing him.

Fleeing the scene, she returned to her home to prepare for her date with JR10, ignoring the sinking feeling in her stomach.

Stepping out onto her sidewalk, she practically skipped to the park, she was about to meet the man of her dreams, the man who knew her better than she knew herself. Her soulmate.

She arrived early, taking her time to wander through the park, admiring the flowers, trying to embrace the nervous feelings currently building in her stomach. She stood on the path, where the curve bent around the park, adjusting her dress nervously.

“Smee.” She turned quickly, looking in the direction of the voice. A dog came bounding toward her, his leash dragging behind the pup. She bent down to pet the runaway dog when he came into view. She knew it, it was the only thing that made sense. It had to be him. He was her soulmate.

She stood up as he approached her, tears slipping from her eyes. Before she could react, he wrapped his arms around her, and she melted into his chest. “Don’t cry lonelygirl.”

She looked up into his eyes. “I wanted it to be you. I wanted it so badly.” He smiled and her heart melted as his lips touched hers.

Two lonely souls, Emma and Killian, had found love in the middle of a war over books.

[wolfpawn]

I Hate You, I Love You, Chapter 108

Chapter Summary -  Danielle laughs at people's ideas as to how she was in LA and Britain at once and as she settles back in to London, she gets a visitor.

Previous Chapter

Rating - Mature (some chapters contain smut)

Triggers - references to Tom Hiddleston’s work with the #MeToo Movement. That chapter will be tagged accordingly.

authors Note - I have been working on this for the last 3 years, it is currently 180+ chapters long.  This will be updated daily, so long as I can get time to do so, obviously.

All image rights belong to their owners

tags: @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog @jessibelle-nerdy-mum @nonsensicalobsessions @damalseer @hiddlesbitch1 @winterisakiller @fairlightswiftly @salempoe @wolfsmom1

If you wish to be tagged, please let me know.

As expected, there were a plethora of comments regarding Danielle’s apparent ability to be in two different parts of the world at once. Reading through the comments online, she found herself in stitches at some of them. That she had a sister, that she had hired a private jet to get from one place to the other, that she set up the other girl as a decoy to allow her to spend the afternoon unnoticed in Suffolk. She was unperturbed by it all, all she cared about was enjoying the good weather and spending time with Diana, something she did not get to do as often with her and Tom working or spending time in London.

‘So, back to London on Thursday?’ Diana smiled after Danielle had regaled her of the stories going on online with regards her location.

‘Yes, I have to meet with a solicitor there.’ she explained, less than pleased at going back, she loved spending time in Suffolk again, London was great, but a few days away was what she needed.

‘So he is a friend of Tom’s?’

‘No, he is a solicitor in contract law.’

‘So what was it about a friend of Tom’s?’

‘One of the men that works on the Avengers, he does house renovations as a side business, so he offered Tom to have my business offer looked at by his business partner in that,apparently that is something he is good with, accountancy or some other such field, which they did, got me the best offer I could ask for and I did that, now Lucas is sending the new, amended contract for me to get signed legally and from there, I will be the head of the company here, in Europe.’ She smiled.

‘That is a considerable job.’ Diana looked at her in concern.

‘Yes, but let’s face it, better to get a quarter part now and learn everything before I set up my own and have no idea what I am doing.’ she smiled.

‘You always were so determined.’ Diana smiled fondly at her before frowning. ‘A quarter? I thought you said they offered you twenty percent.’

‘They did, I asked for a quarter and they gave it.’ Danielle smirked, ‘If I am working hard, I want more of the profits.’

‘Good girl.’ Diana squeezed her hand. ‘Why let anyone else have it?’

*

Danielle sighed as she entered Tom’s house in Belsize. Even after months living there, it was still Tom’s in her mind. She liked it, but were she the one who had been looking for a house in London, she would not have gotten it, it never really felt right. Too modern in a sense she could not articulate. She liked older style houses, but nonetheless, as much as it was Tom’s house, she saw it as a home.

Mac sniffed his food bowl as though expected to find some food there, disappointed to find none, he trotted over to his bed as Danielle sorted herself.

Tom was due back the middle of the following week, so considering her own work she needed to do, she simply got what was needed for the next few days for herself and Mac and took out the now fully signed and official contract, along with the titled paperwork for Danielle Hughes, Partner and European Co-ordinator. Looking at it, seeing her name embossed in such a way, made her excited for the work she was about to begin. Having scoured the company for concerns such as credit and money issues, she was given a suggestion to go for her venture by the man that Renner worked with and thus, her plans were brought to fruition as she had envisioned, years ahead of schedule.

After an afternoon of cleaning and organising the house, she made a simple dinner before relaxing on the couch, not paying much attention to the TV as she worked on more work needed for Branagh’s movie. She dozed off during the ten o’clock news on the couch, Mac laying on the floor under her feet.

*

Tom was exhausted, the flight was delayed twice and he had done early hour filming before he was able to get home, but when they offered him an earlier jet back to Britain, or wait a few more days, there was no discussion, he was ready in half an hour. He knew from his conversation with his mother earlier in the day, that Danielle had returned to London, so he hoped to surprise her, bringing a large bouquet of flowers he had Luke order be readied for him on his arrival as well as a gift from the US. He noticed the lights on when the cab arrived outside the house, so he paid the driver and got out, getting his suitcase and other belongings with him and making his way to the door, he knocked and stayed quiet, not wanting to reveal who was on the other side of the door. There was no response so he knocked again. That time, there was a few barks from Mac to alert Danielle to the door. He grinned as he heard the dog on the other side.

‘Who on Earth would be here at this hour?’ he heard Danielle’s voice on the other side of the door, clearly, he had woken her up.

Feeling guilty, he put the bouquet where she would see them and waited for her to unlock the door. The door opened only slightly at first, the safety chain still on as she looked out. ‘Good evening Ma’am, is is true Danielle Hughes, a partner of Safeguard Limited lives here?’

‘Tom!’ she closed the door for a moment to open it wide and let him in. ‘You’re home early.’

‘Yes, they apparently like to not even tell us when and where we are off to keep things quiet, Hello Darling.’ he put down everything and wrapped his hands around her, kissing her as he did so. ‘I missed you.’

‘Mm missd ou.’

Tom chuckled as she continued to kiss him and speak, pulling back to hand her the flowers, ‘These are for you, and no, you don’t need to be suspicious.’

‘I feel like that is something someone suspicious would say.’ She smiled, taking them. ‘What’s the occasion?’

‘I missed you and I wanted to get you something I thought looked nice to celebrate your incredible achievement with something nice, starting with some flowers.’

‘Starting?’ She asked, her concern apparent.

‘Yes,’ he grinned wickedly. Mac rushed between his legs looking for attention. ‘Hey buddy, I missed you.’ he rubbed the dog, who licked his chin with excitement. ‘I need to get these things upstairs, and after that, I need to spend time with you, five weeks apart is hell.’ he kissed her again.

‘You have dog drool on you.’ Danielle laughed as she wiped her chin after he rubbed his chin against hers.

‘Sorry.’

‘Come on, I’ll take your hand luggage, you take the other bag.’ she smiled, lifting the smaller back and heading for the stairs. Tom followed suit with the other bag. When he went into their room, he smiled, it was clear she had organised things again, a fresh batch of books brought from her own house, Tom gave her a raised brow. ‘I don’t apologise,’ She smiled, causing him to chuckle. ‘Do you need something to eat?’

‘I am starving.’

‘We’ll get you something…’ she stopped what she was saying as she looked down at Tom’s hand, which was on her wrist. ‘Tom?’

He grinned and pulled her to him, kissing her again as he did, his hands making their way to her ass. ‘I’m not starving for food.’ He leant down and kissed her neck where he knew she liked it. ‘I have not had you in over a month, Elle.’ He kissed up her neck. ‘I have dreamt of you and your incredible body at night, you have no idea how many times I wish I was home with you.’ He pressed her into the wall and began untying her sweatpants, his hands frantic as he tried to get them off her.

‘Tom, do you not want to wait until later and go slowly?’ Danielle asked as she undid his belt.

‘Oh, you seem to be under the impression you are leaving the bed tomorrow before noon, you are sorely mistaken. But I need to have you, right now.’

‘Did you have a pill or something before you came that you cannot wa...Oh God, Tom.’ He hoisted her against the wall and pushed into her at the same time, her body, much to his relief, she was already prepared somewhat for him. ‘Fuck me.’

‘What a coincidence, I am doing that right now.’ he grinned as he began to move his hips, biting his lip as he concentrated on their pleasure.

For her part, Danielle used dresser next to her to take some of her weight as she used her strength to help bounce herself on him, gasping as her body seemed to realise what she had deprived it of in his absence and reacted by moaning as he ensured to hit the points in her he knew she loved. ‘Tom, fuck. I’m gonna…’

‘Yes, good girl.’ she bit his bottom lip, moaning as he continued to press himself against the most pleasurable parts of her, bringing her closer to the edge. ‘Elle, God.’ he moaned as he felt her body tightening around him. ‘God, yes.’

Danielle came as he pressed into her again, using the angle he knew she adored as he did so. She pressed her head back as she clenched her teeth, a strangled moan of absolute pleasure escaping her as she felt her body grip onto his length, using it to lose itself in pleasure.

As she went limp from her satisfying release, Tom continued to chase his own. Her orgasm had made her even wetter, the lewd sound of his entering her again and again only adding to the sensation. After another minute, he finally got his release, something that had been eluded him since he had left, craving Danielle’s body against his. He was slightly louder than he usually tended to be, but without her for so long, it felt more intense than he was used to. ‘Fuck.’ he gasped as he tried to catch his breath.

‘Good?’ She smiled as her breathing had regulated once more.

‘Fucking incredible.’ His lips made their way to her neck again before snaking them up her throat to her jaw, littering open-mouthed kisses as he did so. ‘I love you.’

She smiled adoringly back. ‘I love you too, you silly, sweet and incredible man. I am so glad you are home.’

[caroline18mars]

A Man On Fire - Chapter 15

“Shayla, stop! Will you stop? It's not what you think?” Sean caught up with her at the elevator, “leave me alone, Sean” she rammed on the button like a maniac, “no, I won't! This is all a misunderstanding, just come with me to my room and let me explain” his heart was thumping in his throat, was he really sure he wanted to do this? Ok Sean, wait a minute, this is your girlfriend..but Harper..she was so stunning, seeing her in that bath had stirred something in him, something inexplicable. What the hell was going on out there? He could barely hear himself think, Jared pulled open his door only to step right into the middle of a huge fight between Sean and..Shayla? What the hell was she doing here?. “Either you put her on a plane right now or tomorrow at the latest, either way, she NEEDS TO LEAVE!”, wow he had never seen Shayla this angry “I don't know what's going on and frankly I don't need to know, but could you take this to your room?” Jared sighed. “Jared's right, come on, my room's right there” Sean grabbed her arm and tried to steer her away from the elevator, “NO, this is all your fault, Jared!!, all your fault! She needs to leave!” Shayla hissed at her boss. Jared pinched the bridge of his nose “What is? And who the fuck needs to leave?”, did he really need to listen to this? “your oh so important light designer, that's who!” she snapped, her nostrils flaring in anger. “Harper?? you kidding? She's not going anywhere, except to dinner with me and the entire crew in an hour or so, so whatever your problem is, you're going to sort it out, get over it and calm the fuck down, is that clear? Or the only one that's gonna be put on a plane is you, Shay�� why had he ever hired this girl? she was good at her job, but an emotional wreck in her private life and those were the two things she couldn't seperate which resulted in a lot of trouble and mayhem for everyone involved with her. Jared turned on his heels and went back inside his room, he had far more important things to do like replying to that e-mail and put the record straight and after he was done, Shayla could start checking his agenda so he could finally meet up with Coco, he needed a break from all these lunatics already and the tour hadn't even started.

From: BJLCubbins

To: HCDeRobiano

Subject: Re: I don't know, but I'm confused

Coco,

It would only be fair to say that I was confused too at first when I read your e-mail, but then it finally sunk in that my last e-mail left little to the imagination..and things could easily be misinterpreted, so I'm gonna put the record straight: she's my ex and that's what she'll always be, nothing's going on between us, she's happily married last time I checked, so.. I think it's a good thing that people can somehow stay 'connected' all their lives even after their physical relationship ends, because who still means anything to anyone in these 'modern times'? You meet someone, give your heart and body to them for a certain period of time and after that you just forget that person ever existed? Whatever that experience was, you can never 'unexperience' or 'unfeel' it ever again, our present is shaped by all those relationships past, they partly brought me to where I am now. It just made me think of something you wrote in one of your first e-mails where you said something about people being glued to a screen and not interacting with each other anymore..and I'm gonna agree with you on that, what if we all let go of our bloated Instagram-egos once and for all and started 'living' in the real world again? I swear, nobody would ever have to fake #happyfamilies on facebook ever again!

So how about we take the lead and avoid the misunderstandings by meeting up? I'll have my agenda checked and I'll send you a time and place? I know you're 'in the middle of something' but maybe if you ask your boss nicely, he or she will give you some time off?

What about you though? You share so little about yourself, do you have an ex that stuck or still sticks to you?

P.S. I loved that you care so much or you would've never sent such a 'snarky' e-mail, just so you know I care a lot about you too..

Regards

Joe

Get the hell out of this bath and get dressed before he walks in again, that..disgusting piece of..never in a million years could she have guessed that he was such a pervert..he had a key to her appartment as well, how many times had he been been spying on her under the shower? Or seen her naked? She quickly dried and put on her widest hoodie and pajama pants and stomped over to the door to double lock it, barricade it, don't care, he was NOT getting in again, first he had been checking her phone, sleeping in her bed, and then sneaking up on her in the bath? No, no, no way, not happening again. Just when she wanted to put the chain on, a knock made her jump back, “I don't need to know, Sean” she yelled, “It's Jared..”, oh..she carefully opened the door, he was dressed to the nines, no sign of floppy hair as it was all pulled back in a tight ponytail. “You ready?” he smiled at her, oversized hoodies, leather jackets, anything you could put on looked amazing on her, “I'm sorry but I'm not feeling so good, think I'm coming down with something” she wanted to go if it was just him, but he had said something about the whole crew going to dinner together. Damn, that was a dissapointment, he loved talking to her. “Oh..ok..that's a shame..do you need anything?..” he heard himself say, “no thank you, I was just going to bed, so uhm..” ok let's not stretch this to an uncomfortable length, he was going to find out soon, if he hadn't already..”I understand, ok, well, feel better?” he couldn't help but feel dissapointed, he didn't want to put her on the spot, maybe she wasn't feeling too well because of being drenched all afternoon but the main reason she didn't want to go was because of Shayla and Sean, what the hell happened anyway? Please don't say it was because there was something going on between Harper and Sean, ugghh..wait why did that bother him so much?. “Thank you..I'll try..you enjoy your dinner..” she hesitated as their eyes locked “Goodnight” she breathed, please don't tell me I have to go when Shayla shoots off her big mouth later on, I want to get to know you better. Jared nodded his goodbye and turned to walk down the hallway.

A quick roomservice call and 10 minutes and a big tip later there was a trolley being rolled into her room with a lot of scrumptious food, yummm she took the bowl with noodles with her to bed, crawled under the covers and switched on the television. But after flicking through every channel, she ended up with another episode of 'Catfish' on MTV, pushing another fork of noodles in her mouth, was that really the way anyone wanted to end up on TV, by telling Nev and Max about your suspicions that the internet love of your life isn't probably the person you think him or her to be? Sure honey, you're in an internet relationship with Katy Perry tssssskkkkk sillllyyyyyy, that was just as silly as thinking she was in love with some guy that said he was..well ok, let's take him as example, Jared Leto on the internet, or Jared pretending to be some ordinary Joe online, helloooo!?! ridiculous much? On the other side of town, the restaurant was really busy and particularly LOUD because of Shayla arguing with Sean every time he tried to talk to her, there was nothing interesting on his phone, ahh food being served, perfect timing! “She's leaving! I don't care if she's your friend..or your secret lover” Shayla's voice ruined his appetite, his fork clattered against the plate “Enough! I don't care which one of you but either you or Sean is gonna  tell me what the hell happened with Harper?” he banged his fist on the table hard enough to make the adjacent tables stop talking for a second. Sean suddenly thought his plate was much more interesting than engaging in this conversation so Jared glared at Shayla who stuck out her chin “Harper seduced Sean, why else would she give him the spare key to her room? She thinks she can solve a quarrel by getting naked in front of him”. Harper naked? Very, very interesting, those curves, that cute butt.. “if that's true, then Sean shouldn't have accepted the key in the first place, not if you two are so much in love, right Sean?” he turned his attention to Sean who was now pushing his food around on the plate, classic, Harper didn't try and seduce Sean, it was the other way round, it took a man to know another man's body language. “Anyway, can we just eat now? Harper is not leaving by the way” Jared picked up his fork and continued eating, case closed, the only thing he reluctantly had to do now was push the image of a naked Harper away.

Uhhhh overeaten again, put the bowl away now! A dull 'thud' as she pushed the bowl on the bedside table, made her look over the edge of the bed, ah..phone, hopefully no damage to the screen, then again she could afford a new screen..or even a new phone now that she was gonna have so much money in the bank. The phone vibrated warmly back to life, Joe of course, who else? What attracted her so much in this guy? Definitely his way with words, this man could make everything seem reasonable, so jealous of him having every single one of his thoughts in check and then write them down so eloquently.

From: HCDeRobiano

To: BJLCubbins

Subject: Re: re: I don't know, but I'm confused

Joe,

There's just no running or hiding from you, is there? No matter how hard I try, I keep hovering around my phone like a moth to the flame, you're trouble, Joe, and I know it..

That's why I'm not saying yes just yet but I'm not saying no either, I'll go with the flow and see what I can do, it's just that I'm scared you'll make an absolute fool out of me and stand me up again..and those chances are real, don't deny it.

That's why I decided I need to protect myself, so if I do decide to meet up with you and it's a no show from you again, then I'll pull the plug on you and you'll never read anything from me again, is that clear?

Regards

Coco

[davidfostercomedyblog]

Secret Shopper: The Only Time I Unknowingly Broke the Law

Before he was outed as a rapist Bill Cosby had a great bit about parenting (many actually) where he declared that if you only have one child then you can’t fully know the experience of being a parent… because you always know who to blame.

 I’ve applied a loose parallel to job hunting: If you’ve never job hunted without a present job or savings and/or with someone else sheltering you, you cannot fully know the experience of job hunting. I myself was in that more fortunate, unknowing group for most of my life, until I moved to L.A. with no money or contacts, only hopes and dreams, figuring it was good that originality doesn’t much sell these days.

 Real job hunting becomes a perpetually desperate state of panic, albeit within the pragmatic reality of “Groundhog Day:” Wake, eat, Craigslist, click, copy, paste, attach, send, repeat, repeat, repeat 50-100x over the course of 6-12 hours interrupted by naps and more food, exercise or masturbation or both, and occasionally either proactive motivation or cabin fever will be the impetus to a ride around town, just popping into places the old fashioned way: “Wanted to see if you guys might be hiring.”

 I once walked in to every front desk in an office building on Hollywood Blvd., feeling like Will Smith in Pursuit of Happyness (sans the racial handicap and ultimate success), and one guy took me in for an interview on the spot. He was so excited and sweet in what I’d come to identify as a very L.A. kind of way. Unfortunately I didn’t get “the job.” To be honest I don’t know if there even were any jobs, or if so which I was applying for. I went home. More masturbation – I mean exercise.

 One guy from a Craigslist link kept calling me back, Brian Cooper, and he couldn’t have sounded more like the character, “Douchebag” had he been reading for it in an audition up the block.

 “Yeah man, yeah, David, right?! So sorry, bro’, sorry I haven’t gotten back to ya, it’s just been crazy here, absolutely crazy. I got a job for you though, dude, I definitely do. Easy money, not alotta work! Sound good?”

 I said it sounded good, even though he didn’t. He was fake and flaky (can’t spell flaky without fake!) and nothing thus far had worked out, so why should I expect any different? Nevertheless, consistent with my equally pathetic online dating pursuits I followed up and returned Brian’s calls and eventually, also similar to dating pursuits, it sorta kinda briefly paid off.

 Apparently Brian worked for big companies, the likes of Apple and Verizon, which at least explained the “easy money, not alotta work,” platitude. His department was customer service review, not something that I’d really ever heard of, but it sounded like a thing, plus what about any of corporate America had I ever heard of? I was desperate and broke – not “broke” like the people who can’t afford the vacation or car they want and have to be mindful about their budget and spending on eating out. Actually broke: There’s no money. Credit cards maxed out, parents have no money and I’m borrowing $50 or $100 from various friends to put together this month’s rent, shoplifting toothpaste and every meal is either homemade rice and avocado or taco truck food. Broke(n).

 This experience is a small part of the reason why I’ve become more generous with the homeless. Whether conscious of it or not I think we’re all guilty of believing laziness or self-destruction are ingredients that lead most people to homelessness. Meanwhile at this stage in my life I had a B.A. and Master’s degree, had worked as hard as I possibly could every week of my life, appeared on HBO and Showtime as a comedian, won competitions in national festivals, and I had nothing. I digress.

 The job title Brian offered was “Secret Shopper.”

 “I’m gonna assign you to a team, you guys just drive around all day, scout different locations to make purchases, go in and review your experience with the staff. Sound easy enough? You’re a comedian, so I know you’re a good judge of character, right?”

 “Haha, yeah, totally.”

 I never understood this – even the positive stereotypes that get assigned to comics by the infinite ass hats trudging over our Godforsaken planet. Is a Master’s degree in Psychology suddenly prerequisite for a career in stand-up comedy? How do you know I’m a good judge of character? What if I’m the worst comedian in the world?

 No matter. Beggars can’t be choosers, and I was the closest to being literally a beggar I’d ever been. The job was to meet up with Cici at the Starbucks in North Hollywood tomorrow morning, and basically follow her lead, driving around all day, assessing… customer service?

 The whole thing was suspicious, and as I sat in front of the café, dutifully early, sipping my morning coffee, taking in the lovely L.A. morning that never got old, I grew “cautiously eager” (caffeinated) to see how this would play out.

 Finally Cici called.

 “David.”

 “Hey, yeah. Is this Cici?”

 “Oh hi, it’s Cici.”

 Right. Anyway…

 “Hey.”

 “Are you there?”

 “Yeah, I’m sitting here in front having coffee. Are you--?”

 “Okay, I’ll be there in a few minutes. Can you meet me in back, in the parking lot? The whole crew is there waiting already. I’ll be in a red Toyota, okay?”

 “Yeah, sure, no problem.”

 “Okay, thanks. I’ll see you soon.”

 I made my way to the back parking lot and noticed a crew of young adults standing around who seemed to not be saying much to one another, thus were probably unfamiliar with one another, thus probably fellow beggars in a work crew.

 “Hey. Are you guys waiting for Cici?”

 “Yeah,” one of them barely offered, and I noticed they were uncharacteristically unfriendly for L.A. A young white heavy metal-looking guy and a pretty young black girl, and I immediately wondered if they were a couple, and should I be jealous of the guy? Finally was an enormous young black dude, and he was the only one who didn’t look downright miserable, instead wearing a confused, dumbfounded expression that I imagined mimicked my own. He was the only one who smiled when I shook his hand.

 “How you doing, man? Charles.”

 I immediately liked him. The others I did not.

 “John (Preston).”

 And: “Hi, I’m Rien.”

 Ugh.

 John took out a cigarette and Rien took out her phone and apparently we’d go on as strangers. It’s obviously a cliché, but I immediately felt empowered by being from New York, especially having run in mildly criminal circles as a teenager. The whole situation was suspect, and I figured the smart thing to do was gather information. Fortunately we live in a day and age where it’s considered socially acceptable, even expectable, to ignore all physically present beings in exchange for typing on our phones so I opened up my note app and began slyly recording whatever I could.

 Rien drove a Prius, just like everyone else in L.A. who didn’t drive a Benz. License was Vermont (vomit): FTX504.

 Cici finally arrived in a red Toyota Yaris, license: 7CDF875.

 “Hey guys, sorry I’m late, Jason (Cruz) kept me at the office to determine our plan for the day. We just had some delays.”

 “Oh, no problem,” Rien’s tone had changed, perked up for Cici, and I wondered if it meant Cici was the boss or Rien was just especially turned off by me. I assumed a bit of both.

 “Are you David?” Cici extended her hand and was at least a bit more pleasant.

 “And Charles?”

 They shook hands and I was ecstatic to not be the only new guy.  

 “You guys are gonna roll with me.”

 Even more ecstatic. Let the love birds pout off in the Vermont-mobile while I get to roll with the homeys whose cheekbones and outer lips at least raise upward.

 First stop was Ralph’s, some stupid L.A. supermarket chain, though I had no idea why we were there. Where were we going on this mission? Would there not be places to stop and eat? Was an earthquake in the forecast? Did we need supplies?

 “Wait here,” Cici requested. “I’m just going to run in and get a drink real quick.”

 “No problem,” Charles passively mumbled, but I said nothing, and if I’d been a cartoon my eyebrows would’ve been raising to inhuman heights, eyeballs popping out of their sockets with frazzle lines around my neck and shoulders.

 We just came from a Starbucks. Now she realizes she wants a drink and feels she has to get it from a Goddamn Ralph’s. Ya suspect!

 I decided it was past time that I ingratiate myself with my fellow inmate.

 “So this is your first day doing this too?”

 “First day, bro. I’m in it with you.”

 “Right, right.” I paused, not wanting to let on my suspicion too quickly, because what if he’s lying too?

 “You ever done this before though? Like for any other company?”

 “What, like secret shopper job?”

 “Yeah.”

 “Nah. I heard of it though. Couple of my friends done it. Supposedly an easy way to make some extra cash, which I definitely need…”

 I believed him. I couldn’t tell you why, except that I liked Charles and he just felt sincere. He was a tech guy by trade with a passion for comic books and other typical nerd things, and in spite of being from Compton everything about him fit the bill. He wore glasses and an unkempt afro and when I mentioned my Master’s in Chinese Medicine he told me about his hyper-reactive skin conditions. If he was in on it – that is, if there was an “it” in the first place, Charles’ performance was exceptional and he should have been at Central Casting, not working as a secret shopper or whatever the hell we were doing.

 I paused again. I thought of my HBO appearance, and how I didn’t have any shows booked yet for the week. How did I get here?

 I turned to Charles: “Don’t you think this is kind of weird though?”

 “What?”

 “This. I mean, I dunno. This whole thing. Why are we at a supermarket right now?”

 “So she could get a drink.”

 “Right, yeah.”

 Longer pause. “You think this is legit though?”

 “Yeah, man, secret shopper,” and he shrugged his shoulders so matter-of-factly that I was almost convinced. In any case it’s not like it’d be my first time breaking the law and I definitely didn’t feel in danger. I know we can’t assign any one individual as representation for an entire city, but I did think it was funny how the black guy (from Compton) was taking everything they said at face value and the white guy (from New York) was constantly peaking over his shoulder in criminal paranoia. Cici eventually returned from her suspiciously long drink purchase, which immediately changed the topic of conversation.

 Cici was mildly attractive and had an accent, something Eastern European, and I at least appreciated how chatty she was. As a matter of fact everyone was, making for a pretty fun drive-around dynamic and for a brief moment I felt almost happy and optimistic, a passing feeling that would become eerily familiar for me out west. For the moment I sat back and enjoyed the ride.

 We arrived at some Verizon store on Ventura Blvd. and Cici took out a piece of paper for me to review before going in. A customer survey without any real official-looking branding on it.

 “These are the questions to keep in mind when you go in, okay?” she instructed.

 “How quickly were you greeted by the Verizon professional?”

“Were all of your questions promptly and fully answered?”

“Was there anything about your experience today you would change in the future?”

 It was as if they’d copied it out of every online survey I’d ever seen, but then again, so is every online survey I’ve ever seen.

 “Take this credit card,” and Cici gave me what looked like a fake credit card, though I think it was just prepaid and/or some corporate thingamajig that impoverished luddites like myself know nothing about. Nevertheless, there was a fake name on it, which Cici quickly addressed.

 “Do you think you can sign that name when they give you the receipt?”

 “Yes, I can.”

 “Okay, so as soon as we get the green light you’re gonna go in and buy the new iphone 5s, okay? All the features, take whatever they offer in extra data, applications, everything, okay? Because we need a full assessment. But you can’t let on that you work for Verizon. Just play it totally straight. If you get confused or you think they know you’re a secret shopper just leave the store and call me, got it?”

 “Yup, no problem.”

 It reminded me of my work as a hidden camera actor on MTV eight years prior, though that was a much better job, and you know… relatable to my passion. Nevertheless it was useful experience in deceitful teamwork, strategy and of course, acting, albeit in a different context.

 I waited for the green light, went inside and told the customer service professional what I wanted. He was young and eager to help, eager to sell, even more so than his east coast counterparts, surely not as accustomed to as much attitude or rejection. I had no idea whether or not I was breaking the law, but my conscience was clear. I was a desperate man without a dollar to my name and as far as I knew just doing my job. What’s more, it felt nice to have money to spend, for the first time in my life to not feel like I had to duck and dodge every additional offer and feature, to not have to get the most affordable option and decline everything extra since I could barely even afford the basic device. Of course nothing about the phone was mine, but still, it made the shopping experience more pleasant to be able to appease the young lad surely working at least partially off commission. I followed all of Cici’s instructions, forged some asshole’s name and walked out of the store with some fully loaded adult toy that I couldn’t care less about, but made my “boss” very happy. 1 for 1!

 “Okay, your turn, Charles.”

 Cici got on her phone and laptop to report back to home base and prepare for the next secret shopper and my nerves calmed down much like they did in the wake of so many shoplifting successes in adolescence.

 “How was it man?” Charles asked.

“Fine. I, uhh… I bought a phone.”

 He laughed.

 “Cool.”

 “Okay,” Cici, chimed in. “I’m gonna give you a different credit card now, obviously (obviously), but you’re going to get the same thing, okay? Same exact thing. Because we want to see if your experience is any different, and honestly it helps that you’re African American.”

 Ugh, these fucking Californians and their “African American.” Haha!

 Charles and I laughed, and Cici scrambled to support her rationale.

 “No, seriously though, it’s important for employee review. That’s why we paired the two of you together and Rien and John. We have to know if any of these assholes are racist of course.”

 For a moment I was convinced. Maybe I wasn’t a part of some low frequency, slime bucket criminal enterprise and hadn’t just committed petit larceny. Maybe Cici and Brian and Charles and I really all worked for Verizon and we were doing the Lord’s work of seeing to it that one of the planet’s most powerful conglomerates could become more powerful via the fair and responsibly receptive treatment of its millions of inadvertently enslaved customers. Maybe. And maybe Rien and John weren’t a couple after all.

 We waited for over an hour in the car to give Charles the green light, but I never got bored, also figured we were getting paid by the hour. The weather was great, car windows were open and I felt great. We talked about astrology and comedy and Chinese Medicine – okay, I guess I was steering most of the conversation, but Charles and Cici were eager participants and whenever they got distracted by the job or a call came in from headquarters I pounced with the corners of my eyes.

 Cici would open her laptop to communicate over email with one person while she spoke on her headset with someone else. Her email was cicimissy84@gmail.com and she wrote to Justin Stevensen, who was supposedly the man in charge. Finally Charles got the go ahead and headed into the store.

 “Good luck, man!” Don’t get arrested, I exclaimed silently to myself.

 There was more confusion with Charles’ mission than there was mine. He kept having to come out and get more information, and finally even needed a different credit card. Fuckin’ nerd, I thought.

 After a bunch of confusion it worked out and Charles finally exited with another fully loaded, fancy new phone. He was sweating, wiping the beads from his brow as he collapsed back into the back seat, but I assumed this had as much to do with his weight problem as any nerves or apprehension. After all, Charles’ conscience was even cleaner than mine. “Secret shopper,” right?

 Cici then burned rubber, screeching tires out of the parking lot and pulled out a loaded .45, emptying the clip through the sunroof into the air as we made off with our new devices. No, she didn’t. We quietly pulled back on to the road and headed for the next destination, Encino shopping mall.

 Nothing happened at the mall. A lot of waiting and talking and walking around and checking in with Justin Stevensen, but no green lights and no more purchases for the day. Cici said she was happy with our performances – that we both proved worthy of, achem… “employment,” and asked if we were both free to work tomorrow.

 “Sure,” both pathetic souls replied, and I was thrilled to be paired up with Charles.

 “Since today was a trial I’m going to pay you in cash now, but tomorrow will count as the start of your employment, which means you’ll get a check in the mail next week, cool?”

 Yes!

 By the time we got back to Starbucks it was 8pm, a long day but so fucking easy. Cici handed me $120 cash and had me fill out a W2 in the car, and gradually I was becoming more convinced. I just wasn’t sure what was less conceivable – that such a job actually existed or that I could actually fall ass backwards into such a good situation. I decided it was too late to hit the comedy clubs and instead chose to head home and get a good night’s sleep for more secret shopping.

 The next day brought more of the same, but this time we forewent Starbucks and just met at the first location, another Verizon store in Westwood, a wealthier, more bourgeouis part of town. This time Sir Charles would go first. He successfully bought another cell phone and I awaited my green light that never came. For some undisclosed reason we had to move on to another location.

 We trekked all the way to some mall in Ventura and my mission was to purchase an ipad from the Apple store. The clerks, true to form, could not have possibly been more friendly and helpful, but we kept hitting a roadblock. It seemed that my credit card required some kind of passcode that neither I, nor Cici, nor Justin Stevensen upon follow-up communication, could provide. Twice I had to scramble back to the car and report what was going wrong and twice I returned to the Apple store for unsuccessful re-tries.

 “No problem,” Cici sighed. “That’s not your fault,” she said, as if I needed to hear it.

 I’ve been doing stand-up comedy for 13 years. If you think a purchase rejection at the Apple store rattles me you’re out of your fuckin’ mind.

 I reclined back in my chair and spent the rest of the ride home inquiring to Charles about how to convert the format of some video footage I needed to edit. Charles seemed to know just about everything about technology, and I think we both looked forward to a mutually beneficial friendship, he for my tech issues, me for his dermatological ones. Cici seemed a bit stressed and I couldn’t have cared less. Still, when she dropped us off at our cars Cici was pleasant and appreciative.

 “Brian’s gonna contact you either tomorrow or this weekend and let you know your days for next week, okay? And your check should go out tomorrow.”

 “Sounds good. Thanks Cici! Have a good weekend, y’all.”

 They wished me the same, and I was off. I was happy, even optimistic. This job was weird, but seemed more legitimate and innocent with each day, and so perfectly fit my needs. Money, first of all, and a part time gig with free evenings to do my shows. At $120/day and my present rent I could work four or even three days a week and get by. I was grateful. And then, I never heard from them ever again.

 I gave Brian a call over the weekend and got no answer. I followed up on Monday and got voicemail again. When the following Friday came and went with no check arriving I couldn’t have been less surprised. I realized of all people I’d forgotten to get Charles’ contact info and had no idea what his last name was to search Facebook.  

 While unemployed with no friends or girls, minimal stage time and no resources with which to enjoy life one has plenty of down time, which I’d intermittently use to call or email Brian or Cici. First my messages claimed to be just following up for my check, but after a while I began unapologetically saying I knew what they were up to, reciting their license plate numbers and email addresses. I should have reported them to the cops, but just didn’t have the energy, nor desire or time. I needed a job.

 Several months later I missed a call from a strange number, checked the voicemail and it was Charles! I was so happy he’d kept my card, not as happy to hear the news.

 “I got arrested.”

 “What?!”

 “I got arrested, bro’. That whole secret shopper thing turned out to be a scam (ya don’t say, Charles?), and I got bagged last month trying to buy a laptop in another Apple store. I had no idea what was going on and when I tried to tell them about Cici and them they just all played dumb, like they didn’t know me. I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind testifying for me, you know? Or at least go on the record that I wasn’t in on it and my lawyer said I could plea, and hopefully it won’t have to go to court. They’ll just knock it down to shoplifting or whatever.”

 “Of course, bro’, of course I’ll testify, and I actually have a lot of their information – license plate numbers, emails and stuff. I never trusted them.”

 “I know, man, I should have listened to you. Is that why you quit?”

 “Quit? I didn’t quit. After that second day we worked together I never heard from them again. I never got my check for that day and just never heard from anyone.”

 “They told me you quit.”

 “I bet they did. How much longer did you work for them for?”

 “’Til now. Until just last week when I got arrested.”

 “What?! You’ve been working for them this whole time?!”

 “Yup.”

 “Holy shit. You must have made some good money, huh?”

 “Yeah, it was all right, man, but now I’m fucked up. Gotta give it all to my lawyers.”

 “Right, right.”

 I thought about the awful, abusive restaurant jobs I’d held during those six months and was overcome with jealousy. Then I thought about Charles being pulled away into custody by the police and pleading to the police in high-pitched panic: “Secret shopper, secret shopper!” and it took everything I had to not laugh.

 “Yo, so it’s okay if I have my lawyer call you, right?”

 “Yeah, yeah, of course, man, keep me posted.”

 “Okay, thanks so much. He’ll probably reach out to you tomorrow or the next day.”

 “Alright. Take care, Charles.”

 I hung up and couldn’t believe it. It all felt like a lifetime ago. I was on my third (and first decent) job since Secret Shopper. I was finally in a good place and felt bad for Charles. I wondered why they’d kept him and not me. Were they suspicious of my suspicion? Had Cici noticed the corners of my eyes? Had Rien noticed me stealing glances at her license plate, alternate with her cleavage? Would that matter? I looked forward to hearing back from Charles. My life was still so boring and shitty and I was excited for some excitement, also excited to partake in bringing those douche bags to justice, but I never heard from Charles again.

 I think there are legitimate secret shopper jobs, but this apparently was not one of them, obviously just a strange crew of con-artists using that label as well as unsuspecting desperados as a front for their scams. I hope they get what’s coming to them. More importantly I hope Charles is okay… that is if he’s not one of them!