Page 8 of House of Bass

The car was still there, its headlights on, she stormed towards it but was quickly stopped in her tracks when the passenger door opened. Out walked two people, an older man and a girl, both in formal wear. The man wore a navy blue suit while the girl, who looked a little older than her, four or five years give or take, was in a pinstriped white shirt and neat black skirt paired with about three-inch heels and white socks, however she was also wearing a leather jacket. Her black hair was parted with a singular clip holding to the side. She looked so put together Harley felt a little self conscious. She glanced down at her outfit, tugging on the ends of her hoodie as they neared.

Despite their intimidating walk up, she held her head high, still a little out of breath and lightheaded from her sprint down the stairs, so uses it as her excuse for blurting out, “Who the fuck are you?”

The man smiled and stepped forward as the girl hung back, not perturbed by the language. “My name is Frances Able. I work for your father, Harley. We both do.”

She had assumed as much. “Where is he? Could he not say whatever this is to me himself?”

“Your father is a very important and busy man.”

She scoffed in disbelief. That sounds about right. He’s been busy for twenty years.

“Assuming you read the envelope left on your front door, you know why we’re here.” She nodded, then he continued. “Ideally we would like for you to leave with us at once but–”

Harley’s eyes popped wide open, “Leave? Slow down, I didn’t agree to that.”

He looked back at the girl, who just rolled her eyes, before facing Harley again. “You said you read the envelope? Everything will be funded for, including where you live.”

“I don’t care about the money, I’m not going to pack up my whole life to follow two strangers into the night at the whims of my sperm donor who didn’t bother to deal with me himself.” Her voice started to rise and that was no good in an area like this, it would garner attention she didn’t need or want getting back to her mum.

The late summer wind whistled in the silence that came after. The girl stepped forward and asked,“What life?” sounding bored and hardened simultaneously.

“Excuse me?” Harley blinked, taken aback.

“What life?” she repeated, as though she wasn't saying it to be mean, just honest. “You have none. I have been in charge of watching you for weeks, and from where I’m standing, there’s absolutely nothing worth holding on to. Your life is a shitshow, Harley. Take the opportunity given to you to get out of here and make something of yourself.”

The girl was right, she did not have a life. Harley couldn’t help the tears that threatened to fall. Her every waking moment had been about how to put food on the table or making sure her mum didn’t end up dead from indulging in her addiction.

“I can’t leave her,” she said softly as she looked away.

The girl raised an eyebrow and Harley clarified, “My mum. I can’t leave her.”

“Don’t use her as an excuse to not do the right thing, you’ve been doing it for long enough.”

That felt like another bullet to the chest. Harley felt chastised and she hated it. The girl turned to leave, “See you on Monday.”

Frank spoke after she left, “Regarding your mother, we will handle everything. The only thing you have to do is get in the car and leave. She’s right, by the way. You have to think about yourself.” And with that sentiment, he went in the same direction as the girl had and they drove off, leaving Harley with her thoughts.

4

ST. ANNABEL

I love Monday mornings. Most people hate it because it means school, work and obligations, but I love the fresh smell of a brand new week, shedding the stench of the old one.

However, this Monday I have been summoned to my father’s office, and like a dog answering its owner’s beck and call, I am here. After spending almost two weeks screening his calls, I knew I couldn't avoid him any longer.

The early traffic is abysmal and it took me over an hour to drive down here, so I am aggravated before even seeing his face. I look up at the Astaeris building, situated next to the infamous Gherkin, and sigh. Ever since I began university, I have been coming into the office once a week to shadow senior employees, board members, and mainly my father himself. I don’t mind it. I am good at it. But it isn’t what I want.

Rain splatters on my face as I rush into the building; the first day of September and it is already pouring, how dreadful. Plastering on my public smile, I wave to the guards and ask about their kids, speak to Sarah and Jessica at reception, and chat to the employees I recognise in the lift until it is just me left going to the highest floor.

There are only two rooms on this floor, his and mine. I near my father’s office and his secretary, Natasha, sits in her open cubicle right by his door. She sees me and smiles. She is a beautiful redhead in her late twenties with big tits and a pretty smile; it makes me wonder if he has ever slept with her too.

“Hello, my darling.”

“Annie, hey, how was your summer?” she asks as she pulls me into a hug.

“Fantastic,” I answer , returning the hug, wondering if she could detect the sarcasm.“Is he busy?”

“He’s in a brief teams meeting but I’ll phone in on another line and tell him you’re here.”