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Ch. 3: TGIF

TGIF. Thank Goodness It's Friday.

Sunlight was streaming through my bedroom window when I woke the next morning.

Wait, my bedroom window?

Why was I still in my mother's house?

I'd only planned on lying down for a few minutes…

I guess a few minutes turned into a few hours. Not a big deal. At least I had showered.

It was so refreshing to have slept. In a bed. For more than two and a half hours.

I checked my watch, and immediately went into panic mode.

NINE THIRTY!

Why was it nine thirty and I was still in bed? Why hadn't my mother woken me up?

Why didn't I have anything to wear!

It didn't matter. I had to get to work!

I said I was going to wear sweatpants anyway…why not sheep pajamas?

I borrowed a few dollars and hailed a taxi, leaving a note for my mother. She wouldn't mind. It was her fault for leaving me sleeping anyway…

"The Wellington building, and step on it." I growled at the driver, who didn't seem to have heard me.

Then again, I didn't look very intimidating right now. My purse was in my office, my clothes were in my office, and I had literally just rolled out of bed.

I caught sight of myself in his rearview mirror and sighed.

Apparently the sleep I had gotten hadn't done me any good.

I still looked like hell.

Dark, almost bruise-like circles extended down from my tired brown eyes deep into my cheekbones, my skin was bone pale from overexertion, my plain brown hair was frizzy and unkempt…

I was in sheep pajamas…

I wouldn't take me seriously, either.

At least I'd grabbed my bra from yesterday on the way out?

I started putting it on underneath my glorious sheep pajama top—I assure you, I hadn't worn these since high school, they were all I had left at my mother's house—and glared at the cab driver as he watched.

Well, we were stuck in traffic and his job was to ferry around strangers all day, one of whom had produced a bra from her coat pocket and was trying to maneuver it underneath sheep pajamas…

I didn't really blame him, but it was just annoying.

Pervert.

With traffic, it took half an hour to get to my building.

I ran into my office building, and not having time to wait for the elevator, took the stairs up the six flights to my newspaper.

I didn't have time to think, nevermind notice that Robb was trying to tell me something as I rushed into my office and immediately started removing clothes.

I stopped dead in my tracks, upon seeing that my desk was occupied, by a man I'd never seen before.

"Who the hell are you and why are you in my office." I demanded, not even noticing that currently I had only a bra covering my upper half.

"What I want to know is why you're getting naked in my office." The man said, an amused look on his features.

It was then that it actually hit me that I only had a bra on.

Oh. My. God.

Thank GOD I had grabbed the bra.

Nobody ever went into my office, so normally I wouldn't have to worry. If I had stripped down to nothing before noticing a strange man in my office…

Oh my. That would have just been awful.

Maybe the man upstairs felt bad for what he did to me yesterday, with the hot soup…

"Do you mind?" I snapped, turning around as he continued to watch me, a strange light dancing in his green eyes.

Why had I just noticed that his eyes were green? What did I care?

Pervert! He was still watching me! He was almost as bad as that cab driver!

"Actually, I do mind. I was under the impression that you would be here all day. I've been here for half an hour, and you finally decide to grace the office with your presence." He said, not bothering to turn away as I rummaged through the portable closet thing I'd brought here for some clothes. "Why should I show you courtesy if you didn't show me the respect of showing up on time?"

Oh, he was way worse than that cab driver!

"Think what you will, I'm usually here at five." I said coolly. At this point I couldn't care what he thought, I only cared that he was purposely making this difficult.

It was one of the most awkward moments of my life. He refused to give me the decency of looking away as I changed clothing, putting on black dress pants and a tank top under a white polka dotted dressy shirt.

"I'm going to guess that you're Mr. Cullen's son." I said, no longer amused.

Well, I hadn't really been amused in the first place, but I wasn't frantic anymore.

I saw that yesterday's paper was on the desk, open to the article I'd written.

I don't even remember what I wrote about. I think it had something to do with tax cuts eliminating the meals on wheels program.

"Well, you do have a brain." He said with a smirk, not vacating my seat. "From this article, one wouldn't think so. And this office is atrocious. What, do you live here?"

"BAM! Hit the nail on the head, buddy." I snapped, not even realizing that I had voiced my thoughts aloud.

He was one of the most infuriating people I'd ever met, and I'd known him for all of two and a half minutes.

Look at him, sitting there at my desk with his tie and his shirt and his jacket. His stupid bronze hair looking perfect, his stupid green eyes smirking with his stupid perfect face…

Why the hell was I even noticing this? He was a horrid man.

Even if he was one of the most beautiful people I'd ever seen in my life.

I now knew what Carlisle meant when he said he didn't pay me enough. If I had to work with him…

Ugh, he was so infuriating!

Wait. Had I really just said that?

I take it back, God. You suck.

"I mean…I happen to be moving right now." I said through gritted teeth.

"Yeah? To where? It has to be better than this dump."

I opened my mouth to say something, but stopped. He was right, this place was a dump. I knew it. I'd known it for quite some time now. In fact, my old apartment was a dump too. I didn't have the money for anywhere nice. My mother had bought all my clothes, as part of her attempts to help me out.

"What I want to know, is why this paper is still running." He said, picking up the copy he had on my desk, and throwing it back down as he changed the subject. "This…Clemons fellow needs to go…Smith, Harris, all of them. They're awful. The only decent thing here is yours, and it's not even that good. It's bearable, at best."

"They worked for my father. I found no need to hire new people when I was just going to sell the paper anyway." I said stiffly. I knew I wasn't the best, but I didn't like when people ripped apart my writing.

Even though I knew that lately it was simply wretched.

I hadn't had time to put a decent effort into it, I was so caught up in so many things…

"Well your father was an idiot. I looked up some figures on this paper, when Carlisle told me it was mine, and do you know how much debt you're in? When are you planning to pay it all off?"

"I've been working on it." I really wanted to slap him.

I wasn't an overly violent person, but I wanted to slap him.

Who the hell did he think he was, to look up my records, waltz in here, and throw them in my face?

"Why were you late this morning?" he asked, his face serious. "I mean, if you live here, it can't be that hard to get to work in the morning…"

"I was at my mother's. She lives across town."

"And it took you five hours to get here from there? You're always here at five."

"Why are you on my case? Who the hell are you, anyway, to be giving me this kind of treatment! I was late, once! I usually pull twelve, thirteen hour days around here, then go to a second job! I bust my ass for this freaking place, to keep it going, to pay my bills, to pay my debts…"

"Look, princess, you work for me now." He said coldly, standing and leaning over the desk at me. "You do what I tell you. You be on time tomorrow, or I fire your ass. Do you understand?"

"I take Saturdays off, I work at my mother's flower shop on Saturdays." I snapped. "I'll see you Sunday."

"You're under new management, sweetheart." His voice was like acid, and there was something more than frightening about his green eyes… "You be here tomorrow, at seven. Or you're gone."

"You fire me, your whole staff quits, like that." I threatened, snapping my fingers. "They might not be the most talented people in the world, but they know what respect is, and know that it has to be earned. And they know what loyalty is."

"People aren't loyal to people, they're loyal to money." He leaned over the desk, in my face and almost hissing. "They're loyal to their paychecks. When was the last time you heard about someone quitting their job because of morality reasons? Face it. You lose, I win."

I remained silent.

I couldn't say anything to that. He was right. I was one of those people, too, the slave to the paycheck.

What frightened me most, more than being technically homeless, more than losing last night's job, would be losing this job. I was only a waitress or a bartender at the other one. I only worked part time at my mother's flower shop.

But this…I was a journalist.

Even if I didn't particularly care for what I was writing right now, since I was so caught up in other things, it was still my profession. I had a degree, I had worked hard through school for this.

And I didn't doubt that this hard ass would fire me if I was late.

We stared at eachother for a long moment, playing chicken with our eyes. Would he give in? Would I?

He was the owner now. I'd signed the papers yesterday after I got the check, and sent them out. Now, I was just another employee. He could do with me as he pleased. He could fire me, he could keep me, he could probably get me to be almost his personal slave. I needed money.

And I needed it badly.

We'll continue this battle later.

"You're right." I said softly, straightening to an overly proper posture. I made sure my voice was extra sweet with an edge of sarcasm. I didn't have to like him, but I could try and be almost civil to this jackass…while also getting my point across. "How foolish of me. I'm so glad you corrected my mistaken thinking. Now if your Majesty allows, I was going to get some coffee. Might I get you anything, your Highness?"

"It's good that you got fired last night." He said, his tone haughty as he ignored my question. "You won't have time for second jobs. I want you here every morning at seven, sharp. You will stay until I say so, and any work you don't finish you will take home with you…oh, that's right, you live here. So you'll stay here until you finish it. I want all of this gone by tomorrow. You have the rest of the day to do it."

What the hell?

How did he know about last night, for starters, and two, who did he think he was, my master?

"I'm guessing you like your coffee black? You know, bitter, dark, and awful?" I said, at the door with my coat.

"You have less than twenty four hours to clean this up. I suggest you start now." He said, picking up a snowglobe I'd had on the desk, while putting his feet up. "Oh, and cream, two sugars."

I slammed the door, and strode immediately to Alice's cubicle, where she was having coffee with someone I didn't know.

I didn't know them, nor did I care to. That man was the most irritating person to ever walk the planet.

"Have you seen him?" I exclaimed, bursting in on her conversation.

"Who?"

"That man in there, that…Cullen. The son. What the hell is his problem! He think he can just waltz in here and take control of everything—" I started, unloading all my rage on this poor girl and her friend.

I'd only met her yesterday, but I felt that we'd probably be friends, when I had time. She'd helped me immensely, for the sake of doing it.

And I was beginning to crack under all the pressure. I needed some sort of support system…

"Oh, that's Edward." She said with a smirk, exchanging a look with her guest. It was the first time I noticed him.

He was tall, built, with visible muscle to his form, and had soft blond hair. His features gave off the air of observance, like he knew what everyone was feeling.

"He's always like that." The man said with a grin, holding out his hand. "Jasper Cullen."

Cullen.

Jasper Cullen, Alice's fiancé.

Cullen. Jasper Cullen, son of Carlisle Cullen.

"That's your brother?" I gasped, covering my mouth. Why did I never think before I spoke? "Oh…I mean…he's…he's um…very…"

"Oh no, it's okay." Jasper laughed. "He's very cranky. I've been dealing with him for quite a long time now, I understand."

"Does he get any better?" I sighed, relaxing a little. I couldn't handle this. I was having such a bad week.

Thank Goodness it's Friday.

"Eventually." Jasper said with a sort of wan smile. "If you can stand him long enough to find out."

"Ah." I nodded, contemplative. I liked this Cullen a lot better than that horrid man, that Edward. "Well…sorry for interrupting. Have a nice chat."

God, I needed coffee to calm my nerves. Or another hot bath, but I doubted I could leave in the middle of the day, take a bath, then come back.

I glanced through my office window on the way to the elevator, and saw him in the same position as before, his feet up on my desk, amidst my junk, staring at the outside window. He looked pensive, and I didn't know what to think of it. He didn't look like the asshole that he really was, behind closed doors…

What did I care?

I needed coffee. My mind was doing strange things, almost thinking that that horrid man, that Edward, could be human, nice to someone.

Entering the coffee shop, I saw the owners to my building, and inwardly cursed. No doubt they'd be harassing me about payment…

Well, I had the money, back at the office, where my purse was. Right now I was spending my mother's money, extra from the cab ride.

"Miss Swan! Fancy meeting you here!" Mr. Oliver Wellington exclaimed, as I stood behind him in line. "Do you have the payment?"

"It's in the office. My checkbook." I said with a weak smile. I hated talking to these money hounds. "I'll drop it off by the end of the day."

"Oh, nonsense! Why don't I just come up to get it, on the way to my office?"

"That sounds good too." I said, positive my face fell. I hated any interaction with the Wellingtons.

They were obnoxious.

That's it, just obnoxious. I supposed they might be decent people outside of work, but when I saw them they were always pestering me about money.

Whatever. After this payment, it was Edward's job to pay them. I was off the hook.

I entered my office with two coffees in a tray and Mr. Wellington on my heels. Edward was still there, and looked up at my entrance as I set the coffees on the desk.

"Mr. Wellington, may I introduce Mr. Edward Cullen, new owner of the East Side Herald. Mr. Cullen, Oliver Wellington, the landlord." I said rather boredly, as I found my checkbook and started writing.

"Mr. Cullen!" Wellington gasped, rushing forward to shake Edward's hand, though he hadn't extended it. "It's a pleasure, meeting you."

"Miss Swan, what are you doing?" Edward addressed me, not paying any attention to Mr. Wellington's gushing.

"Writing a check. Paying rent." I said, confused. Did he know anything about business?

He didn't say anything, but stood and ripped the check out of my hand, as I was going to hand it to Mr. Wellington. He began ripping it to shreds.

"What are you doing!" I exclaimed, taking the pieces out of his hand and laying them on the desk, trying to piece it back together.

"When was it due?" he asked Mr. Wellington.

I froze.

Oh, no. He hated things being late. The payment was two weeks late…I was going to get canned.

"Um…the first." He said, his voice shaking. He was just as intimidated as I was.

"I see." His voice was stern, and he shot a glare at me as he reached into his coat pocket for his own check book. "And that was for one month?"

"Yes, sir."

"Well here's a check for six months. I don't want to see you for a very long time, Mr. Wellington." He said cordially, but also ferociously. There was something animalistic about his tone.

"Yes, sir." Mr. Wellington said, leaving the office as quickly as he possibly could.

As soon as the door shut, Mr. Edward Cullen turned to me, his green eyes flicking to mine. I was certain I looked petrified.

And I was.

My heart was beating hard in my chest. I knew it. This was it. Fired from two jobs, in two days.

"From now on, you leave money matters with this newspaper to me." he said, taking his coffee from the tray. He took a sip, then spit it out all over the floor. "Ugh, what is this!"

"Oh…that's mine." I said, smiling a little. His reaction was hilarious. I might have laughed if I hadn't been sure I was going to be fired.

Needless to say, I took my coffee strong. In fact, I had a triple shot of espresso in it, just for the caffeine.

"Why on earth would you have it like that? It's awful!"

"Caffeine." I shrugged, handing him the right one and taking mine. He just stared at me, which unnerved me a bit. Why was he looking like that?

He leaned over the desk, close to my face, still staring at me as I sat awkwardly in the chair.

"You look like hell." He said, drawing back. He paused, by the window, absently playing with the string to the blinds. "You really do live here, don't you?"

"Did you think I was lying?" I blurted out, kind of offended. It wasn't good, but it wasn't horrible. At least I wasn't on the streets.

"Thirteen hour days?"

"Five am to six thirty."

"Then another job?"

"Until last night, yes."

"Until when?"

"Usually two, one if it's not busy." I said, wondering why he seemed to almost care, now. I narrowed my eyes in his direction, as he continued to stare out the window.

He was probably just shocked that I was telling the truth. Pretty boy didn't look like he'd worked a day in his life.

"Um…not to be rude, but why are you asking? You have my file." I couldn't help but speak. He was kind of freaking me out right now.

"I'm trying to understand what would motivate someone your age to work so hard." He said truthfully, looking at me again and sitting in the chair across from me. "You know, keeping that up, you could work yourself to death."

"I have debts." I said coldly, using his own words. "When am I going to pay them off?"

"We'll get to that later." He said seriously, still looking me in the eye. "For now, focus on this job. Your first assignment is to write an article on the candidates for the upcoming election. Why they're campaigning so early this year, the works. I want interviews, I want statistics, I want it well done."

"I can't possibly do all that for Sunday!" My jaw dropped. "And how am I supposed to do this, I can't just knock on their doors and start asking questions."

"Did I say I wanted it by Sunday?"

"Then when do you want it?"

"Thursday. And there's a function Monday night, I want you there."

"Those are invitation-only."

"Did you forget who you're talking to?" he smirked. It was a kind of wicked smirk, but was a lot better than that scowl. "Now about your living situation…"

"Why are you doing this?" I asked, confounded. Why was he being nice, all of a sudden? Not that I minded, but why did he change his mind from that wretched person I'd met earlier. It didn't make sense. It was like he was a different person.

Men. Who needs them.

"Miss Swan, nobody should be working as much as you have. You don't have to worry about the paper anymore. That's taken care of. Don't worry about your debts, either. Worry about your job. Worry about writing an article worthy of the New York Times."

"Mr. Cullen, I don't understand."

"That's good, because you don't have to." He stood, putting his coat on. "I'll see you Monday, at seven."

He left, leaving me stunned.

What the hell was that?

You know what that was? He was pitying me. Another one, pitying me.

Well, it was Friday at least. Even if it had turned out to be a confusing one, I had until Monday…

I slumped in my chair, and brought my coffee to my mouth, but didn't take a sip.

I didn't want it anymore. This was ridiculous.

It wasn't healthy to have that much caffeine at once. It wasn't healthy to work as many hours as I had in the past three months, it wasn't healthy to be living out of your office…

Screw this. New management, new office. New office, new lifestyle. New lifestyle, no worries. I'd pay everything off eventually.

I picked up the paper I'd printed yesterday, and began to read. What had I been printing, lately?

Review! What will happen next, between Bella and the mysterious Edward Cullen? Review, and find out!