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She sighs. “It’s fine. I guess? I don’t really know how to respond to that.” Bex glances off towards where King is steadily tearing down boxes with a box cutter. “Tell King the school knows a photographer from Ward Enterprises will be dropping by. They’re welcome to take pictures of the outside of the building and the people working, but that’s it. Anything with a student name is off limits for privacy reasons.”
“Alright. I’ll make sure he knows.”
Bex shuffles back a few steps. “Then let’s get to it.”
Before I can figure out a poor way to bid her farewell until the end of our time, she flounces away quickly back down the hallway she pointed at from before.
Turning around, I head towards the stage where King is working. There’s three large platforms to walk up, almost like steps that are slightly too far apart for comfort. There’s a cart with box cutters, replacement blades, scissors, and a box of mermaid bandaids on top.
Grabbing a box cutter, I turn towards where King is working and begin slicing through tape to break down the cardboard box easily.
King gestures towards a few boxes on the far end of the stage not on a pallet. “If you tear it up by accident, put it over there. The students use the cardboard in art class instead of tossing it out. These boxes will go back to the food bank.” When I raise an eyebrow at him, he points down the stage towards the cafeteria tables where Freddy is at. “He gave me a quick rundown while you were busy talking to Bex.”
“She says the photographers are welcome to get photos outside or inside of us working but steer clear of anywhere that children’s names would be.” I gesture towards some of the artwork on the walls. “Probably avoid the artwork or blur it in the background of the photo.”
King nods. “I’ll make sure they know. This will be different, though. A picture without her in it since she’s put some space between the two of you. I hope it wasn’t because of us.”
I can’t tell if he genuinely is saying that or not. Instead of responding to him immediately, I shrug off his words. “We’re making her life a little more difficult by chaperoning us coming to these events.”
“Is that what she said?”
Deciding to be blunt, I nod.
King frowns as he glances over towards where Bex disappeared to. Lowering his voice, he says, “There were some things that came up recently we didn’t find on our original dive into Bex’s background.”
I narrow my eyes as I glance to where he’s seamlessly cutting through boxes without breaking a sweat. “Things we need to be concerned about?”
King pauses. “If you’re asking if what we’ve uncovered will affect the outcome of this, then no. It’s information that can be easily discarded.”
Huffing out a breath, I grunt as I slice through a particularly thick tape job and end up mauling one of the flaps on the box, “Then why bring it up?”
Another long moment of silence stretches between the two of us. Thankfully there’s a low murmur of voices constantly chatting that no one pays us any mind. “I wasn’t sure if you wanted to know everything in regards to what we discover about Bex or if you wish to be kept in the dark.”
The problem here is Iwantto know everything about her. She’s an addiction I’m fully delving into now that we’re actively in the same places. Beforehand she was an idea, a memory of someone I thought disappeared when her love turned to hatred. Except she’s kind and a bit of a ballbuster now. I want to know everything, but I also want to learn it from her. “Keep me in the dark about anything that doesn’t pertain to her involvement with my image.”
King angles his chin upwards, acknowledging he heard me.
If only the shareholders could rob me of my addiction to a certain fiery blond, would they understand the true addiction that just came back into my life.
11
“Wicked people will always be determined to come out first.” - Bex
My mind is running through a million different scenarios right now as I tap my pen on the legal pad in front of me. There’s always the chance my words are going to be strewn when reporters hear them, so it’s pertinent that the speech I’m working on remains factual, to the point, and offers little chance for things to be taken out of context.
The computer screen glares blindingly at me. The stark whiteness with a continuous blinking cursor making my teeth grind. I always organize my thoughts with my legal pad before writing on the computer. It helps me stay on track for what I need to say. Helps me get into the voice of the person I’m writing for. It’s not just the words that are important in matters like these, but the tone. The voice it comes from.
Detrick interrupts my procrastination by nudging the door open with a frown. “You have a visitor.”
I raise an eyebrow at him. “Is it Thorin?”
“If it was Mr. Ravenscroft I would have just sent him back here and let you yell at me later.” He rolls his eyes. “That man is too good looking to be kept waiting.”
There’s only a few people who know where I work who would seek me out here. “Emilia or Whitney?”
Detrick clicks his tongue. “Neither of them. This one looks more like a streetwalker for Mardi Gras after midnight begging for some beads than a woman who works for a living.”
Not a single soul comes to mind now. “I have no idea who it could be.”
