vision.
"Tell me about yourself, what brings you stateside?" I asked curiously. The first unscripted question I'd asked all day.
"Well, I've always sort of had a knack for writing. I haven't been able to find my personal style or genre," he stated, "With one single idea, I can write anything! I like to think my passion for it is much like the ocean, vast, unexplored and colorful. I wish for nothing more than to help people explore a new world in their imaginations, even if it means my name isn't on it. I like the euphoria of being a part of something bigger than myself, you know?"
My face brightened as he continued to speak. It was as though he shared my thoughts. The energy he expelled as he spoke of his love of writing felt familiar, rich and smooth. The same feeling as eating red velvet cake. Absolutely captivating.
"As to what brought me here," he continued, "um, I'd have to say adventure. You know, new sights, new people a fresh start to maybe give me a jolt of inspiration! When I found your company online, I thought it was brilliant, a company helping writers and idealists dreams come true! It's exactly what I need," he beamed.
I smiled back and nodded pretending to write down notes, I had no idea what to say! I was impressed, to say the least. The more he talked the more captivated I became, the way he spoke and emphasized certain words was pure poetry. He was a storyteller through and through, and it was everything I needed to know. A talent I'd always dreamed of having, but my poetry only resonated well on paper.
My mind was beginning to draw a blank, it had already made up its mind... but I knew Leo would never forgive me if I didn't ask more.
"Do you have any questions you'd like to ask about the position?" I came up with.
"I'd like to know about you?" he asked suddenly.
"Excuse me?" I questioned, shocked.
"Tell me about yourself, I'd like to know about my potential employer," he leaned back in his chair whilst simultaneously crossing his legs and interlocking his fingers.
"Aren't I supposed to be asking the questions," I replied nervously, more like a statement.
"Says who," he smirked.
"Says the person who might want to sign your checks," I said more confidently.
"Well, well, well, you're a sassy one, who would've thought! He exclaimed, making the edges of my lips curl up involuntarily. "All jokes aside, unless you have any more inquiries for me, I honestly would like to ask you some questions, play along, yeah?"
I threw my hands up in surrender, giving him the OK to go ahead. Maybe it wasn't the most professional decision, but I had asked for something less boring; this was certainly it.
"SO," he clapped his hands together loudly, startling me a bit, "is Jerrie short for something or..."
"No, it's merely Jerrie, Jerrie Marie Howard," I stated in such a way it became an interview.
"And how old are you Miss Howard," he said picking up a pen and the printed resume he brought from my desk.
"23," I answered as he scribbled something on the paper. I couldn't tell if he was mocking me or simply having fun. Either way, I found it amusing.
"23, fairly young to have a business this well-developed, how did you start it?" He looked up from his piece of paper, his brow furrowed with concentration.
"Well, I graduated from high school at 16 and went straight into university as an English Literature major. During my freshman year, I was roommates with a girl named Raakel, whose cousin was the campus hotshot, always flashing around in sports cars and throwing wild parties."
"Let me guess, your future business partner, Mr. Cordell," Charlie interrupted.
"Indeed. One day, he came to our dorm complaining to his cousin about his parents cutting him off until he could raise his grades. Long story short, I helped him edit his essays and studied with him and his grades started to improve. Leo began to tell other students how I helped him, and they came to me, willing to pay for the same results. At first, it was all schoolwork, then students with ideas for stories and others with hidden passions or guys trying to impress girls with poetry came to us as well, thus, Lion Publishing was formed," I ended my story.
"Well did his parents ever reinstate his funds," Charlie asked, utterly interested.
"Once they realized how well he was doing on his own, they did. They actually invested, which helped propel this into a legitimate business." I told him.
Suddenly there was a beeping coming from Charlie's direction, he looked at me repentantly and I nodded, indicating it was alright. He scooped his phone out of his pocket checking the notification.
"I'm so sorry, but it seems there's an emergency I need to take care of," he apologized, rising to his feet in a rapid and somewhat clumsy manner.
"Oh, it's no problem," I said concerned with his disposition.
Charlie arose, shaking my hand, "It was nice meeting you and I hope to see more of you in the future."
"Nice to meet you too," I said as he rushed out of the door.
The room felt empty, he knew how to make a lasting first impression. My other interviews were wiped from my mind like junk files. He was fresh, witty and had an impeccable taste in clothes. I had to hire Charlie, but I knew I would have to convince the head lion himself.
2.
OVEREXPOSURE
NOUN: exposure of a film or a part of an image to light for too long a time.
5:00 couldn't come soon enough as I rushed out the door the second after, leaving Kat to close up shop. I walked down the street, knowing exactly where I was going but my mind elsewhere. The hours after Charlie left appeared to drag on forever. A million ways to convince Leo he was the right choice crossed my mind, but none of them felt quite right.
I always encouraged Leo to keep our business and private life separate, and we took our positions seriously. People was his skill, and he'd be offended if I simply told him I had a feeling Charlie was a great choice. After picking up a fresh bowl of chicken noodle soup, I hailed a cab and was on my way to Leo's, deciding not to overthink things for once. If I could turn my thoughts into spoken words with anyone, it would be him. "$33.50," the cab driver said once we pulled up in front of Leo's apartment building.
I swiped my card and sprinted to the front entrance. The elevator opened to the top floor and revealed the modern penthouse I was so familiar with. It was contemporary with an open floor plan and large ceiling-to-floor windows overlooking the city like mine but on a much larger scale.
The windows covered what would be two walls of the living room, letting in massive amounts of sunlight since it faced south. One of the remaining walls was decorated with a black and white photograph of Leo, which he had made into wallpaper. The kitchen donned black granite countertops and black cabinetry which matched the black integrated refrigerator, and stainless-steel appliances trimmed in gold details. It was beautiful, but useless for a man who never cooked.
"Leo," I called, walking into the kitchen.
"I'm in bed," I heard him croak in the distance. I emptied the soup into
