Summary: Rowan Whitehorn needed a pair of jeans. Celaena Sardothien sells Levi's jeans. 1940s. Cali.
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters-they go to the beautiful mind of Sarah J. Maas.
Warning: this first chapter contains a little bit of abuse.
Chapter 1: Conundrum
Celaena's POV
"Quite the business today," Arobynn Hamel, my adopted father, remarks, eying each costumer out the employee's window. "I expect you to make sure each male in here buys something."
I internally throw up, catching the underlying meaning of his words. Arobynn is one of those wealthy men corrupted by the power they hold, their happiness and anger depending on each dollar they make or lose. In his case, he's owner of the entire Levi's jeans company, which is one of the big businesses in all of California.
Arobynn adopted me when I was little, only because of my looks. He expects me to use those looks to get the opposite gender to buy jeans. It's disgusting, but I have to, because I owe him so much money for the medical bills, providing me with food and education, and etcetera.
His eyes narrow at me when I don't respond immediately, spotting my reluctance. After a few more seconds of staring at his forehead, he sneers, "Maybe this will help make up your mind."
I stifle a gasp as he smashes the nearest iron bar into my stomach, my legs collapsing. My vision clouds for a second, and I distantly hear him say, "Understood?"
"Understood," I manage, setting my jaw, making my way out of the employees' room. How I wanted to be free. Ironic, considering I was in California, where new opportunities and freedom were commonly advertised.
There's the usual clamor of people who come here, and I spot one of my favorite costumers-Nox. He makes his way over towards me, a layer of sweat and grime coating his entire torso and up, indicating he was mining recently.
"How'd you rip your old ones this time?" I tease, folding the jeans that were all crumpled into lumps. I wince as my shirt brushes over my stomach's wound-hopefully there'll be a nasty bruise at the minimal.
He shakes his head and waggles his eyebrows at me. "Who said I ripped them? Maybe I came here because I enjoy your company."
My eyes involuntarily flicker towards the window where Arobynn was, watching me intently. A bitter taste in my mouth forms, and I swallow. "Well, since you're here and all, you might as well buy something."
His eyebrows rise. "Really? Yesterday you were saying to not buy anything to piss off Arobynn." Seeing my expression, he adds sourly, "You could just run away, you know."
I sigh. "You don't get it; I owe him. I have to pay off my debts."
He snorts. "He's your father. He shouldn't make you return the favor, adopted or not." He nods his head towards me. "'Till next time."
I look up at the window again, and to my relief, see Arobynn not there. Nox was the only one who knew about the disagreements I had Arobynn. He usually played along, but I wondered if he thought I was his friend just to use him. That was how it was with most of my friends, and how I lost most of them.
I turn around, heading towards the back of the room, not wanting to talk to anyone with the pain becoming unbearable. Just then, Arobynn grabs my arms and throws me into the employee's room. "You brat," he sneers, "You just let one costumer go!"
"He didn't have money on him!" I quickly fibbed, not bothering to squirm under his death grasp.
"Then why did he come?" he slapped my cheek, the rings on his fingers burning my face.
"Perhaps he liked my company!" I yelled, now struggling under his grip, the pain in my stomach hurting as I inhaled air rapidly. "Not everyone hates me like they do to you!"
"Bitch," he hisses, throwing me against the opposite wall, my back sliding towards the floor. "Watch what you say. I expect higher profits than yesterday." He storms off towards his office, and I fully sink to the floor, closing my eyes.
"Truth hurts," I whisper to myself, standing up.
…
Other than this morning, today was uneventful. I picked at my food wearily, knowing that someday, I would have to pay this off, in a form of money. Disgusted, I pushed the food bowl back.
"Not hungry?" A voice says, sitting across from me at a dusty, red picnic table.
I look up, seeing a well-built young looking silver-haired male. The most striking thing about his was an enormous tattoo stretching across the entire left of his face, setting off a darker personality of him.
"Quite the opposite," I murmur, still taking in his appearance
He raises a single eyebrow, his fingers drumming against the table. "So what's the conundrum?"
I blink, meeting his piercing eyes, just as my stomach growls. I'd been rejecting the food Arobynn gave me, just so it would be one penny less paid in the future. Life could be defined synonymously as a conundrum in my world.
"Think I'd spill my story?" I demand, suddenly hating everything. Would I just starve myself to death? Arobynn probably wouldn't care, just adopt another girl and use her. Who was this man to just ask about a freaking conundrum?
"No," the man says slowly, drawling out his words. He eyes me carefully, his fingers now still. "Just realize that whatever you do, there are other choices that aren't obvious that may be better than the other current options."
I frown. What the hell was he on? I could only manage to say, "conundrum?"
The corners of his mouth twitch up. "You work for Arobynn. Nothing's ever clear or easy related to him."
My stomach suddenly starts to throb at his name. Arobynn. I wouldn't owe him so much money if he didn't bother to abuse me. I wouldn't owe him money if he would act like a proper adopted father. Hell, I'd probably be a lot happier if it weren't for him. I was just throwing my life away like all his other employees. If I didn't leave now, it wouldn't be possible to pay off any debts at all to him.
"Are you suggesting that I run away with you?" I comment dryly, now staring at the food bowl.
He coughs, and I look up, seeing his discomforted state. "That could be an option, however, not the best one."
It's my turn to raise my eyebrows. "What are you suggesting?"
He stands up, an unfathomable look on his face. "Nothing," he says, shaking his head, and quickly walks away with long, purposeful strides, not bothering to look back.
XXX
Dorian's POV
"So you want me to ask-no, demand-my closest friend, to seduce our rival company's boss's daughter, just so we can figure out what fabric they use to make the jeans last longer?" Dorian cried, his voice cracking.
His father stared him down. "Yes. Adarlan Co. must pevail against our enemies, especially with that ruthless Arobynn ruling over Levi's."
Dorian was flabbergasted. His father was taking this way over the top. Heck, he didn't even know his father was so embarrassed by his own company since five minutes ago. Arobynn had to have done something completely over the top to work his own father up like that.
"Son, we must take action if we are to not go bankrupt." There was an evil glint in his father's eyes as he said so, a plan no doubt formulating in his mind. "So ask your friend to seduce that young girl. It would be to suspicious if you were the one to do it. After all, I do own Adarlan's jeans co. I don't care if she's ugly. What's your friend's name? Something weird-like Coal?"
Dorian mentally face-palmed himself. "Chaol," he repeated. "Kay-ul."
His father didn't seem to hear him. "Yes, yes, ask Coal to seduce the girl."
"Father!" he protested. "No! What the heck are you talking about?"
His father glared at him, his shoulders tense. "Are you disagreeing with me, son?"
Dorian didn't know what to do. What the heck did Arobynn do to piss of his father so much? "We're getting along just fine, father." He said uneasily. His father, Adarlan, (A/N: I know Dorian's father isn't really called Adarlan, but the book didn't really clarify his name, or I just forgot, so his name in this fanfic is Adarlan) was bipolar, and Dorian often treaded in murky waters with him.
"Fine?" his father slapped Dorian's cheek. "Fine?" he roared again, slapping Dorian's other cheek. "I guess then it's safe to assume your definition of fine is not the same as mine! Go to Coal and tell him what I told you! If he says no, then he's not your friend, hence I'll have my men kill him-he's a useless person in the billions of people here."
Dorian swallowed thickly. All he could say was, "It's Chaol. Not Coal."
And his father slapped him again with his other hand, the rings on his fingers grazing Dorian's cheek.
So this idea came into mind, and I'll continue it most likely. What do you readers think?
