Chapter 3

Willy wakes up the next morning with one of the worst migraines of his entire twenty eight year life, reminding him much of his twenty first birthday. He narrows his eyes, peering around the room, not recognizing it at first, before realizing he is on his office floor, with his head underneath his desk. Feeling that his right hand is heavier than his left, he looks down to see an entirely empty bottle of his expensive, imported rum; he openly curses into the air, before shutting his eyes once more.

Suddenly there is a knock at the door. Its soft, but it does nothing but torture to ease his pain with each sound.

"Come in," he whispers. By some miracle, the person on the other side hears it and walks in. Willy hears each and every step the person makes before they are sitting on the ground beside him.

"Will," says an evidently high male voice, "why, pray tell, are you lying on the bloody floor?"

"Foster," he replies to his right hand man, "I'm actually not entirely sure. Can you find me my sunglasses and painkillers, please?"

Foster applied for the position for Willy's assistant about a year and a half ago. Madison had sent out a request in the newspaper, without bothering to include Willy in the decision before hand. She had noticed that her friend was becoming busier and busier with the company become more and more popular. It didn't take a rocket scientist to see that Willy was overworking himself and needed help.

Madison had attempted to interview the applicants by herself, but had unsuccessfully timed Willy's break time. So when the first person arrived, Willy beat her to the door. The man quickly explained his reasons for being there and was hired on the spot. Willy never explained why he did what he did, nor did he ever bring up the event to Madison. He had found the newspaper with her help wanted add the day it came out; however, was not going to tell her that.

Willy had sent another letter to the newspaper, explaining that all applicants had to go through a phone interview. Therefore, when Foster appeared at the door, Willy put on the show for Madison,, purely for the purposes of messing with her.

Foster had quickly become Willy's best friend (besides Madison, of course) in a matter of days- for the agreed on just about everything when it came to candy. Willy knew if he could trust someone with his candy, he could trust the person with just about anything. Foster had taken on doing just about everything that Willy did not want to do: dealing with the money, hiring and firing people, and advertisement, just anything that was boring. He also was the one to apologize to those who Willy had meetings with, and to carry on wherever Willy had left off, when he decides he can't handle the other's poor ideas and leaves.

Though Willy and Foster agreed upon candy and ideas, their personality and appearances were polar opposites. While Willy relies on his heart and imagination, Foster relies on his brain and logic. While Willy tended to dress a little outside of the box and allowed his hair to be natural, Foster always wore matching suits with a solid tie and kept his dark hair perfectly gelled down. And while Willy was very straight when it came to sexuality, Foster was very gay.

Willy attempts to sit up; taking his aviators from Foster and cover is eyes, before taking the painkiller and drinking all of the water in the large glass, which Foster had supplied.

"As endearing as it is to see you hung over, my friend," Foster whispers, "please tell me that you did not get our poor angel drunk as well. I mean, I get it. Birthdays are always a cause from celebration, but she is still pretty underage for partaking in alcohol abuse."

"It was her birthday?" Willy asks himself.

"You really don't remember any of last night, do you?" Foster replies with a question and with all of his control vanishing, he is unable to stop his laughter from erupting at the end of his words.

"Not a single thing," Willy replies, taking Foster's hand to be pulled up from the ground, "Is is bad that I don't?"

"Let me break this down for you, in the best way I can, Will," Foster keeps his hand upon Willy's waist as he leads him towards his bedroom, "You, who hates drinking, hates sleeping, let alone laying on uncomfortable surfaces, woke up with a hung over on your office floor. You happened to get very drunk on the night of your favorite person's birthday. Yes, it is a bad thing that you don't remember, because what caused the situation will come back and bite you in the butt. However, for your sanity, I believe it is better that you don't remember right now. And right now, I also believe it would be best for you to sleep off this headache and deal with your actions once you're feeling better."

Willy allows Foster to help him into bed. Just as Foster is pulling the covers over Willy, the candy man finally speaks up, "what if I don't feel better?"

"You're just hung over," Foster laughs once more at his friend, "it will pass."

"Not that," Willy replies, "My heart hurts and I don't know why."

"Are we speaking physically or?..."

"Yes and no," Willy looks up at Foster and for the first time in their friendship, Foster is taken back by how serious Willy's demeanor becomes, "It feels broken. I feel broken. I rely my entire business on my heart, Foster. Every decision I make, when it comes to candy, it based on what my heart tells me to do. My heart is breaking or broken…it hurts."

Foster does not know how to reply, Willy didn't look broken, but if he says he is, you would have to trust him. He finally speaks up after what feels like forever and suggests that maybe some sleep in a real bed will fix it, but being honest with himself, he is not entirely sure.

Once Foster leaves, Willy does fall into a dreamless sleep. He wakes up, his headache weaker, but his heart felt as if it walked away during his nap, and didn't return. Slowly he gets up and dressing in black slacks, a white shirt, and a black tie. He even puts on matching black shoes that he had forgotten he owned and walks out of the room. He does not skip or run, but walks like a normal person. He makes his way to the dining area, hoping that his cook has prepared lunch by now.

He grabs the newspaper from his usually spot at the middle of the right side of the table and makes his way to the left head side. Then he opens he paper and begins to actually read it instead of finding the comics and ditching the rest of the paper to the floor.

Willy hears someone enters the room, but doesn't look up, believing it to be his cook, but when he hears a familiar French voice he is taken back, "Foster, have you seen Willy?"

Foster doesn't reply, and quickly Willy realizes Madison was addressing him. Gradually, he lowers the paper just under his eyes, without speaking, and quickly brings them back up, returning to the economic article he had been skimming.

Madison remains silent after that. Not much time later, his cook appears, placing a plate of grilled cheese and a bowl of tomato soup in front of each of them. The cook even places food in front of Fosters chair as he leisurely walks in. His eyes remain on Willy in utter confusion. Willy was not lying when he said his heart hurt and it was evident in his sudden change in fashion.

"Willy…" Foster starts of, but is quickly interrupted the Wonka.

"It is Will, William, or Mr. Wonka," he states, "Do not call me Willy again."

"Alright, Will," Foster continues, "what's with the, ah, sudden interest in black. I though you distasted that color."

"First of all, Foster," Will starts off, "Black is a shade not a color. And secondly, I guess you could say I have had a change of heart. I am the CEO of the Willy Wonka Candy Company and it's about time I started acting like it, don't you think?"

Foster and Madison stare at the insane man as if his head had finally popped off. Will doesn't pay attention to them, however, and returns to his food. Madison, on the other hand to turns to Foster, "Is this some kind of a joke?"

"I don't know," Foster replies, keeping his eyes glued on the man in question.

Madison turns back to Will, "Willy, this prank or whatever it is, is not funny."

"Mademoiselle La Bouff, I feel sorry for you that you are unable to take what I have said seriously, " as Will speaks, not once do his eyes leave Madison's, " However, this is no joke. As I have previously stated to Foster, I wish not to be called Willy. That is my brand, not my name."

"Well," Foster says, breaking tense feeling that had been absorbing the room, "the press are going to have a field day with your with your new lifestyle choice."

"Simple," Will replies, taking a sip of the glass of water in front of him, "We hold a conference. I will explain to them just as quickly as I explained to you why I have changed and will answer whatever questions that follow in the same manner."

"Hold up," Foster says, bringing his hand to his hand, "You're actually going to answer questions."

"I will answer any question regarding the company and my change of appearance. Anything else will be will not be deemed dignified enough to reply."

No one says anything after that. The cook comes back in to see if anyone's drinks need to be refreshed. Will however, asks the cook to bring a glass of rum, confusing Foster and Madison once more.

Foster quickly finishes his meal first, so that he can make the appropriate calls for Will's new plan of actions, leaving Madison and Will alone once more.

"I am sorry," Willy hears as he places down his empty glass. Madison's French accent played very heavy on her words.

"It's alright, Mademoiselle," Will replies tapping his fingers upon the table, "With my history of foolery, it's perfectly reasonable for you to be confused to what may seem to be a sudden change in me."

Madison quiet for a minute contemplating what to say this is new man, her cheeks turning red, "though I am sorry for that, my intention was for apologizing for last night- I was out of line."

Her blush is not hidden from Will and he takes note of that. Now it is his time for silence. His memory still remained foggy of the previous events; however, he would feel bad to let her know, "It's alright, apology accepted."

Will watches a single curly stand of Madison's hair fall in front of her doll like face and suddenly his hand starts itching. He looks down at his hands and decides he should start wearing gloves.