Chapter One: Odd Jobs
"Yes, August. I am well aware of what it states in your contract. I drew up those documents, if you recall," she spat into her cell phone as her heels clicked down the busy concrete sidewalk of Madison Avenue. "Arendelle Publishing has a bunch of imbeciles working for them. That's why I told you to rethink Fairytale Playhouse before signing anything. Playhouse is a much more organized company with a lot more advantages."
She paused while he responded, fishing through her purse for the key to her apartment building. She listened while he spoke, rolling her eyes when he was being unreasonable.
Regina Mills is one of the most prominent and decorated intellectual property attorneys on the whole island of Manhattan. Intellectual property cases deal with copyright infringement and the protection of anything done creatively by an individual. At the moment, she was discussing publishing options with August Wayne Booth, bestselling author of Once Upon a Time and soon-to-be bestselling author of Happily Ever After, the sequel to the former.
"Fairytale Playhouse is a better company all around for the types of books you write, August. Trust me on this one. Ultimately, it's your decision, but they were good to you with the initial publication of Once and it was a huge success. I can negotiate a better contract with them before Arendelle even returns my phone call."
She turned onto 81st Street and stopped in front of a building with a big, beautiful sign that read, "Welcome to Enchanted Plaza Apartments." She turned her key in the door, hand crafted wood with an old iron lock to give the building a castle-like exterior, and entered the lobby. The phone was pressed against her ear by her shoulder as she approached the rows of mailboxes. She placed a smaller key in and turned, opening the rectangular door to reveal the many bills and junk she'd have to sort through later that night.
"I know I'm right, August. You should really listen to me more often. It would save us a lot of trouble," she chuckled into the receiver. "I'll call Playhouse first thing tomorrow morning to schedule a meeting and negotiate your very long and absurd list of provisions for the sequel."
Just then, Regina looked up at the cork board that hung beside the mailboxes. There were fliers for missing dogs and general announcements for the residents of Enchanted Plaza. One flier in particular caught her attention as she ended the call, "Alright, I'll do my best. Have a good night, August."
Need help moving? Don't have a babysitter for date night? Just need someone to feed your cat? No need to fret! Henry Trotter is your guy! Seeking any odd jobs around Enchanted Plaza. Any job is a job for Henry!
The boy's contact information was listed below clip art pictures of various household chores being done by cartoon children. Just below those was a disclaimer written in smaller font than the rest of the flier.
*Rates vary depending on hours worked and type of job. Negotiable at employee's discretion*
Regina laughed to herself at the disclaimer, shaking her head as she pulled the mail close to her chest and shut the mailbox. She turned to the elevator and pressed the button, waiting patiently for the sound signaling its arrival. She took a minute to look through the envelopes in her hand.
Verizon: the cell phone bill. Comcast: the cable bill. A postcard from Spain: her mother. The latest issue of Victoria's Secret. Junk. Junk. Junk.
She looked up when the elevator doors opened and stepped inside, pressing the number three causing the doors to close. She smiled when she spotted another flier taped to the wall. The doors opened and she stepped out, making her way down the hall to Apartment 13.
She turned her key and opened the door with a sigh, happy to finally be home after a long day of negotiating and paperwork. She kicked her heels off as she closed the door, throwing her keys and purse on the table that stood next to it. The sound of footsteps behind her made her grin as she turned, the refrigerator door opened letting her know where they were coming from.
"Hi mom."
"Hello my Prince. Did you do your homework yet or does that classify as an 'odd job?" She loved to tease him, finding it easier to do as he got older.
"Isn't it a great flier?" Henry chuckled, pulling a pitcher of iced tea from the fridge.
"It's very clever. I especially enjoyed the disclaimer at the bottom," she said, reaching into the cabinet above the island for two glasses.
"I learned from the best," the boy smiled, pouring the liquid into the cups.
"That's right," she smiled and kissed the side of his head. She used to place those same kisses to the top of his head, but he'd grown so much in the last year that she could no longer reach. "But you didn't answer my question. Did you do your homework?"
"Just finished. But you know mom," he said, turning to put the pitcher back as he spoke. "I'm 14 now. I'd like to think I'm responsible enough to get my homework done without you checking up on me."
"You're right. I'm sorry," she shrugged and sipped her tea, humming at the sensation of the cool liquid against her tongue and down into her throat.
"How was work?" Henry asked, leaning his back against the island as he took a big gulp from his own glass.
"Busy," she said with a sigh. "I was buried in paperwork this morning and then August took up most of my afternoon."
"He's still hung up on Arendelle Publishing?"
"I think I convinced him to stay with Fairytale Playhouse. I'm giving them a call tomorrow to continue negotiating his contract."
"I don't understand. They published his first book. Why are they taking so long to negotiate this time?" Henry was genuinely interested in his mother's work. Most kids his age were concerned with high school and dating and rebelling against their parents. Henry had his time to rebel when he was 11. He was quite a handful at that age: stealing candy from the corner store, running away to Brooklyn without so much as a phone call. She assumed it was all for attention because she was working sporadic hours; it was a busy year for copyright infringement. It also didn't help that he didn't have a father figure at a time when he really needed one. Regina was surprised her hair didn't turn gray before his 12th birthday. But one day, Henry woke up a more mature boy and stopped being so hard on his mother. She couldn't have been more relieved.
"He was a no name author before they published Once Upon a Time. Whatever they were willing to give him, he took. Now he's a bestselling author so he has all these ridiculous demands that they don't find reasonable," she sipped her tea again.
"Like what?"
"Like," she thought for a moment about one of the more unreasonable provisions August requested. "Oh, this is a good one. He wants Playhouse to provide him with a full length bus for his book tour."
"But doesn't he only do signings in like three states?" Henry laughed as his mother nodded in response. "I mean, don't get me wrong. August is a cool guy with an insane imagination. Once was an incredible twist on fairytales, but it's not like he's JK Rowling or something."
"Exactly. At least Rowling was polite in her demands. Her American publisher gave her a contract for a rerelease just last year and the only difference was the illustrations," Regina pointed out.
"She must have magic of her own to have gotten that approved," Henry scoffed before finishing off his glass of iced tea.
"Or an excellent attorney," Regina said with a laugh and Henry rolled his eyes, placing his glass in the sink.
"Yeah. I wonder who that was," he said sarcastically and Regina straightened her back, proud of her accomplishment in signing such a big contract with the author of the Harry Potter series. "So what's for dinner?" He asked as he stretched his arms over his head. It was something a lot of teenagers did, Regina noticed. They would stretch in all different ways, some even rubbing their stomachs as they did so. She couldn't remember if it was something she did at that age, but it was an interesting habit.
"What are you in the mood for?"
"It's already seven and I'm sure you don't feel like cooking after such a long day," he said opening the freezer to see what they could heat up. Regina stepped forward and closed it, forcing him to face her.
"What are you in the mood for?" She repeated, her eyebrow lifting slightly as she waited for him to answer.
"Honestly," he drew out the word for as long as he could before finally saying, "I've been craving your empanadas all day today."
"That's what I thought," Regina laughed. "Empanadas it is then."
Henry's cell phone rang from his bedroom; his ringtone was the Star Wars theme. He started walking toward his room to get it when his mother shouted, "Dinner is in an hour, Mijo! So don't stay on the phone with Grace for too long."
Henry's girlfriend was Grace Chapeau. She was also 14 years old and attended the same high school as him. They met in their elective course, Intro to Creative Writing. They were asked to read their poems aloud one day which caught Henry by surprise; his was a love poem written about Grace. With his cheeks flushed and hands shaking, he read the poem and it didn't take her (or the rest of the class) long to know who it was about. Later that day, Grace slid her own poem through the opening in his locker and at the bottom was her phone number. They'd been inseparable ever since.
That's why Henry was trying to make some extra money. At first, Regina didn't mind giving it to him for some pizza and a movie. But after a few weeks, it was time for him to be responsible for his own finances; at least when it came to dating.
Regina got to work on the empanadas, which she always made from scratch. Her father was an excellent cook and taught her everything she knows in the kitchen. Her mother was also an attorney who worked ungodly hours at the firm, but with her bringing in the money, her father was a stay-at-home dad. Considering Regina was an only child, her father was her best friend growing up.
She rolled out the dough, sprinkling the flour often as she kneaded it to an even level. Once the pan on the stove was hot enough, she threw in the ground chicken. While it simmered she added the seasonings: garlic and chili powder. Next she placed the chopped peppers and onions into the pan to soak up the excess seasoning and add more flavor to the chicken. Her final, and secret, ingredient was a tablespoon of mild salsa; it kept the chicken from becoming too dry while it baked. She turned off the flame on the stove and cut the dough into circles before scraping the chicken on top of it. She sprinkled on some Monterey Jack cheese before folding the dough in half and pressing down along the edges with a fork, creating that unique empanada look. When they were in the oven and the timer was set, she pulled a bottle of wine off the rack and filled a glass for herself.
Just as she was taking a seat at the island to look through the new Victoria Secret catalog, Henry came back out to the kitchen smiling from ear to ear.
"Well that was quick. How is Miss Chapeau?" Regina smirked into her glass.
"I wasn't talking to Grace," he responded with a smirk of his own.
"Oh," Regina placed her glass down and folded her arms as she leaned her elbows against the countertop. "Shall I dare ask who it is that has you smiling like a giddy schoolboy this evening?"
"Robin Locksley," Henry held his chin up and puffed his chest out knowing that his mother would request more information.
"I can't say that I've ever heard of her. It's a shame. I did enjoy Grace, but you're young and should explore your options, I suppose," she sighed and sipped her wine.
"What? No. Mom," Henry laughed as he continued, "I'm still dating Grace. Robin Locksley is a new male tenant on our floor. I guess he saw my flier and asked if I would help him and his son move in next week. I put them up as soon as I got home from school today and I already have my first job!"
"Oh, sweetheart! That's wonderful!" She reached across the island and placed her hand over his, giving it an affectionate squeeze.
"News like this deserves homemade empanadas and a celebratory glass of wine," Henry said, reaching for his own wine glass.
"Nice try," Regina stood up and closed the cabinet before he could pull one down. "You're already getting the empanadas. Don't push it."