A/N: Thanks everyone for your reviews. Just want to let you know the 3rd chapter might be a little delayed. Heck, my whole output might slow down a smidge. Personal, real-life stuff.
And to top it all off, just earlier today; I've been in an accident and lost my car. I'm OK but a little depressed.
Please let me know what you think, as always. And if you haven't reviewed yet, please do because I love them so. Could really use them right now
BLAM! BLAM! BLAM! BLAM! BLAM! BLAM! BLAM! BLAM!
The alarm from Tori's cell phone was like an air raid siren. Traditional ringers and buzzers weren't enough. For Tori Vega to get up in the morning, it required the urgency of nuclear fallout. Indeed, the alarm did its job and a very exhausted tan arm reached out from underneath the covers and searched aimlessly for the phone to switch it off. Slender fingers made their way to the nightstand and grabbed hold of the vibrating, blaring cellphone. It vanished beneath the pile of blankets and pillows and a sudden silence filled the apartment.
Tori let out a powerful yawn as she emerged from her bunker of slumber. She hated that feeling she got when the alarm sounded and she hit the snooze. It gave her that feeling of anxiety. See, the first sound of the alarm wakes Tori up. The second one threatens her with that god-awful siren. That's the one that really gets her out of bed and it sucks, those 8 minutes ticking like a bomb. If she didn't switch off the alarm completely that day, the snooze would bring the earth-shattering noise once again.
The half-Latina sighed as her bare feet touched the hardwood floor, lamenting how perfectly warm and comfy her bed was and how it was a shame to leave it. Turning off her alarm, she then checked her phone for messages on her way to the bathroom. Much to her horror, there were 9 missed called from her big sister, Trina. Not to mention a slew of angry texts: "Where are you?" and "Seriously?" and the always popular "Again? Fucking again?!"
Tori swore at herself as she quickly disrobed and jumped into the shower. No time to turn on the waterproof radio and get her jam on while she thought about the day ahead. Get in, get out. Will wash hair at a later time. Use scorching hot water for optimum hygiene and alertness.
As the piping hot water hit her flesh, a pulsating pain struck her right shoulder. She rubbed the area with her left hand.
"Guess I overdid it a little last night," she winced to herself.
Tori took the above-ground train because it was the quickest way to get to downtown.
At the center of Kinopolis is the Siegel-Shuster Building. At 108 stories, its the tallest skyscraper in the city. It stands as a gargantuan of steel and glass that harbors a multitude of lucrative businesses.
This is where Tori works. Or to be more precise, for a fashion magazine named The Future Fashionista, which is run by her older sister Trina Vega.
"Good morning!" said Tori, rushing past the doorman.
"Yeah, just barely" he chuckled, looking at the big clock in the lobby.
Tori frantically pressed the elevator button for the 55th floor. "Come on, come on, come on..." Eventually, the doors shut and the car began its ascension. The brunette paced around the little box, thinking of what could be a good excuse. She has been late almost every other day.
The metal doors opened and Tori careened down the corridor until she gets to the door of The Future Fashionista. She opens it and makes eye contact and waves high to the various people she runs into, from Maureen in accounting to Derrick in advertising management. Tori checks Trina's office and finds her sister isn't there. That usually means that she is holding a meeting.
"Oh fucking great," Tori told herself. "I'm not only late but they must be discussing the next issue. I gotta get over there now!"
Tori came through the conference room door, looking like a disheveled mess. She had assembled a sensible outfit and her typical conservative makeup. However, running around like a crazy person kind of undoes all of that effort.
Her eyes immediately locked with a standing Trina, who had her hands on the table, originally facing her staff, only she's glaring at her younger sister with a fiery fury.
"Tori," she said in her usual monotone that she used in mixed company around the office. The voice actually gave Tori chills because dressed in a business suit with shoulder pads and a broche, speaking to her like an authority; Trina was the spitting image of their mother. It wasn't a bad thing, unless you were in big trouble. "Late."
"Didn't you get the memo?" asked Carl who sat next to Trina.
Tori couldn't stand the guy, so condescending and always willing to throw her under the bus.
"Yes, I did. But this new phone," she chuckled nervously. "Not quite figured...out...the...calen...dar..." her words trailed off as she was aware that Trina wasn't moving a muscle.
That indicated that she was not in the mood. Not by a long shot.
"I'm sorry," Tori blurted out.
Trina turned back to her people and said "I think we're done here. Everyone, the layout looks great. Now if you'll excuse me..." she turned to Tori. "I have to fill the rest of us in on what we're doing for August."
"Assuming some of us will still be around in August," whispered Carl.
That wasn't low enough because Trina gave him the glare and that shut him down. He quietly gathered up his things and left with everyone else.
"Tori..."
"Yeah, Trina?"
The older Vega was visibly shaking. "Gonna...gonna need a minute. Can you go to my office and wait for me. Now!"
"Yeah, okay." Tori responded as she retreated out of the conference room, slowly closing the door behind her.
Tori sat in one of the two chairs across from Trina's desk. It was a spacious dark wood with neat piles of everything she has finished on the left, things in progress in the middle and items yet to be tackled on the right side.
Her older sister wasn't obsessive compulsive or anything. She was tired of being overwhelmed with all of the duties that an editor-in-chief has to deal with. Trina figured out a long time ago that the best thing she could do was handle each thing on at a time. She would do some publishing triage and determine the most urgent from the least and adjust her pile accordingly. Her dedication did help shape this relatively new magazine as one of the leading authorities in the fashion industry.
Trina had a reputation that gave off the vibe that she was a bitch, or not particularly smart, or a combination of the two. However, when things weren't going her way in the world of performing arts; Trina did a 180 and began taking business classes and eventually started taking journalism. She ended up graduating with a bachelor's and took over what was originally a more regional fashion magazine and used her charisma to lure photographers, graphic artists and even some models to her book. Tori's sister wasn't dim, she just got bored easily when she was looking at show business.
Irony or ironies; her influence nowadays have attracted media moguls from around the country and parts of the world. To be featured in The Future Fashionista was a sign that you made it. So today, Trina Vega, the wannabe actress and singer that nobody wanted was being sought after by entertainers left and right. Tori was proud of how much Trina matured over the years and was eternally grateful when she offered her a job when her old freelance photographer left for other things.
Tori always had a good eye and enjoyed taking pictures growing up. She even won a few juvenile awards, so she had the goods to back it up. Tori may have gotten her foot in the door because her sister was the editor, but she proved herself.
Unfortunately, chronic lateness really undermines your credibility.
The door opened and slammed hard, which made Tori flinch. Trina didn't say a word as she walked past her to behind the desk and sat down. The only sound audible was the rolling of the chair's wheels.
Tori found it strange how she faced almost 10 brutes with guns last night and this is what is making her heart pound.
"What the hell?" Trina threw up her arms. "Do you have any idea how foolish you make me look when you do this?"
"I know," Tori sighed.
Trina slapped down her hand, which made her nameplate shift a little.
"I don't think you do," she retorted. "I mean how hard is it to be on time..."
"Can't you change my hours? Have me start a little later in the morning?"
Trina sighed "You know why I can't, Tori. The layouts get done the night before and you have to be here at the bright with your positives so we can approve what were going to use." She began massaging her temples. "You need to stay on mornings because the schedule won't allow it."
Tori folded her arms "Worth a shot."
"There's more," Trina said. "There's been a lot of talk, and it isn't just Carl, that I keep letting you slide. I already went through enough crap from people who were crying nepotism when I first hired you. And I thought finally we were past that but now this...not a week goes by when you're not incredibly late. Anybody else would've fired you by now."
"I know, Trina. I fucked up. So do what you gotta do."
Trina huffed and rolled her eyes.
"You didn't fuck up utterly and completely. Not yet, anyway. You're my sister and I love you very much but I'm trying to run a business and I cant have rumors that I'm an ineffectual leader percolate. You're late again, you're getting written up. Five write ups, lets just say Thanksgiving will get really goddamn awkward."
Tori began to stand up, "Fair enough." But when she used the chair's right arm to support herself getting up, the shoulder pain came back with a vengeance and Tori winced. "Shit, gah!"
"What's wrong?" Trina sat up straighter in her chair, not sure if she should get up to help her sister.
"I'm okay," Tori breathed. "Just need to...get over it..."
Trina then sat back, folding her arms "No wonder you've been late." She threw a newspaper at Tori, which was folded onto an article about a masked vigilante who beat up accessories in a grand theft ring. She only read the first paragraph quickly but the headline kind of said it all: "WHO IS LADY VICTORY?"
"You know you scare the ever-loving hell out of me when you go out at night," Trina said, looking concerned.
"I don't mean to," Tori said. "But its something I have to do."
"But why?"
"I can't help it any more than you can help being in the publishing game. It's in my bones; I'm compelled. Look, I'm grateful for the opportunity you gave me and I'm doing what I can to make the most of it. Yes, its a nice job and I meet a lot of cool people and its enough to pay the bills and keep my bank account from sinking. I appreciate your turning my childhood hobby into a career. But its not who I am inside. So I might just stay on for fifteen years. Or maybe you'll fire me next week. Either way, I will continue to go out there because people need help!"
Trina rested her face on her hand, both admiring and detesting her younger sister's stubbornness.
"You're so much like dad."
"Is that a good thing or a bad thing?" Tori asked.
She shrugged "A bit of both."
"Can I go, Trina?" Tori asked, gesturing the door.
"Just one more thing," Trina said. "Have you thought about my idea?"
Tori groaned.
"What?" Trina asked.
"No," Tori responded.
"What do you mean, no?"
"You will not let this go, will you?" Tori asked.
Trina stood with her negotiator's grin. "Come on, baby sis. It'll be our bestselling issue ever! An exclusive with the mysterious Lady Victory herself. It will be something no other magazine has ever done before: Femme Fatale Fashions! What is vogue in the underground crime fighter racket?"
Tori rubbed her face. "Oh GOD!"
"Will you give it a little more thought?"
"I DID. And I said NO!"
Trina scoffed, "If you're worried about the cops, obviously we will do the photo shoot at an undisclosed..."
"Doesn't matter, Trina. If you associate this magazine with me in any way; you might as well paint a big target on this building. Sorry but this office is filled with people I love more than anything. And I wouldn't be able to live with myself if anything happened to them!"
Trina walked over and hugged her little sister.
"I'm sorry, that wasn't fair to you. I didn't mean to upset you."
"It's just that you know I have my reasons for keeping this part of me separate from everything else."
The older Vega really let Tori's words simmer. She understood where she was coming from. Trina gets carried away when she is in editor mode sometimes.
"I love you, Tori" she said. "And I really am sorry."
"I'm sorry too, about this morning. I'll do better, you'll see."
"Just look at it this way; coming to work on time prevents me from having a heart attack because I find out right away if my baby sister survived the night before."
"Fair enough," Tori nodded and left the office.
Oliver and Harris walk into the chief's office for a powwow of their own. Only this time the chief was waiting for them and he was fuming.
"Morning," Harris told the chief of police.
"Shut up, Harris" the 52-year-old man spat. He then turned to Oliver. "You got anything to say, surfer boy?"
The nickname sort of stuck with Oliver due to his tan complexion and wavy hair. He looked more at home on the beach waiting to catch that perfect wave. He hardly looked like he came from the Great White North.
"No, sir" Oliver replied, unwittingly saying something in the process.
The chief stood up, sneering at his two subordinates.
"Do you two clowns realize what the fuck you put me through? I just got off the phone with the DA's office. Good news is they have a case with the robbery and kidnapping. Only trouble is I have three witnesses. Two of them are a couple of cowboys who are too stupid to wait for backup to arrive. And the third is some crazy broad in a Halloween mask!"
He brandished his burning cigarette.
"Now do you understand why my wife can't stand you guys? Because of you and your shenanigans, I cant quit smoking! I try and I try and then the pair of you start a bunch of trouble. And the only reason I can't suspend you is because the commissioner LOVES the shit out of you. He thinks the light shines out of your asses! Despite your brain-dead antics, you get results and that makes the offices look good. Of course it makes my job a living hell because you threaten to make our department uninsurable!"
Harris and Oliver exchanged glances as the chief continued his rambling.
"I would promote you two in a heartbeat if that meant it would keep you off the streets. But, NO! My luck you would use your newfound power to make an even bigger mess. So here's what we're gonna do."
The chief gestures for the boys to stand up and follow him to the main squad room. He stopped at two grey desks facing each other.
"Maybe if I chain you guys to a desk you won't fuck around out there!"
"Ah man," Oliver sighed.
Harris objected "But chief..."
"Save it!" the chief barked. "One more word and it'll be THREE WEEKS and I take your guns! Won't be needing them now anyway because this is your beat, boys. You'll be filling out forms, answering calls, and if you're really good and I'm feeling generous; maybe I'll let you assist Cecil in the evidence locker."
The chief then grabbed a monstrous stack of paperwork and dropped it between the two, who dropped down into their chairs in defeat. It landed with enough force it blew several pencils onto the floor.
"You kids...watch too many movies. This is where the real police work happens. Now get crackin'!"
And with that the burly, cigarette-chomping behemoth left and slammed his office door.
Harris looked at his partner "Beck."
"Yeah?" he replied.
"Sometimes I really don't like you."