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11
RACHEL
My stomach grumbles angrily at me while I slowly unwrap my sandwich, which I bought from a small, mom and pop store on my way to work today. My shoulders feel tense from running around the entire morning. Who knew so much happened behind the scenes at a museum? Originally, I thought I would be lounging around, drinking espresso while providing help to any lost tourists. Recent events have proved that is definitely not the case, and I’m kinda an idiot for thinking so.
I have a feeling Dr. Arnaud would agree with me on that. I grimace thinking about my boss. She has yet to grace me with a smile and I’m beginning to think I will also be a stain on her good day.
I should have gone to the first meeting, I tell myself, mentally kicking myself for being, once again, a freaking idiot. I lift my gaze, watching the tourists take pictures in front of the palace. I haven’t even attempted site seeing. Maybe this weekend, when Lucas isn’t at work. Seth could use a break from thinking about the marathon.
I’m really beginning to worry about him. This morning he only had a banana and a table spoon of peanut butter for breakfast before his run, and I know he’s shooting for at least 15k. He’s pushing himself way too hard. At this rate, he’s going to get hurt.
I shake my thoughts of Seth and look at the time, groaning when I see I’ve already wasted 10 minutes of my precious lunch obsessing about things out of my control. Thankfully, I haven’t had to deal with Lauren too much today. Only a curt hello from me and a dark scowl from her.
I’d call that a good day.
My feet dangle while I sit on the wall, listening to the rushing water from the fountain. I shove my sandwich into my mouth, moaning as the meat and cheese practically melt into my mouth. My phone vibrates in my dress pants and as I munch on my single bite, I frown at the unknown number on the caller ID.
“Hello?” I ask into the receiver in-between mouthfuls of food.
“Did I catch you at a busy time?”
My brows scrunch at the familiar voice, trying to place it, yet no-one is coming to mind. Definitely not my mom, nor is it any of the bros. “Who is this?” I say hoarsely after swallowing my lump of food.
“It’s Samuel Allen.” I hear him chuckle, my eyes widening. How does he have my phone number? I look around, wondering if he’s going to say he’s standing across from me, but there are too many people and I can’t find him in the crowd.
“How did you get my number?” I ask while standing.
“I got it from Lucas, of course.”
My brows pinch together. Lucas told me he didn’t want me working for Samuel. So, why did he give him my number? “Ok,” I say hesitantly. I stuff my sandwich back into my bag, eyeing it sadly, but my lunch is nearly over and I don’t want Dr. Arnaud chewing me out for my tardiness.
“I was wondering if you gave any thought to the job I offered.”
I grimace. I was hoping I could just let that whole thing silently die. I wasn’t expecting him to call me and demand for an answer. “Well, I don’t know,” I say while walking briskly inside the Louvre. “I’m already busy at the museum. I don’t think I would have the time.”
“Really?” He sounds astounded, as if I told him I won a million dollars, which makes me even more nervous and curious. “It would be great experience for you, given that you are a photographer. Of course, I understand. If you don’t have time, what else can I do?”
I nod along, smiling awkwardly at Dr. Arnaud staring at me from the other side of the hall. Her eyes narrow on my cellphone and I know I should hang up in the next two seconds or else she’s going to take my phone and squash it in her tiny hands.
“But, I took you for the type of person to seize what you want.”
I grimace, not liking here this conversation is going.
“Is the museum really giving you everything you hoped and dreamed of?”
No, I think while Dr. Arnaud turns towards me. Each step she takes in my direction makes my hard pound louder and faster in my ears.
“Are you able to use your skills to your full potential?”
No, I’m pretty much a doormat and adeliveryperson, I think, my grasp tightening on my phone as Dr. Arnaud draws closer.
I turn away from Dr. Arnaud, my voice lowering as I say, “No, but I made a commitment.”
“And how is that going?”
Absolutely terribly.
“Miss Miller,” I hear Dr. Arnaud calling bitterly.
