@pancakesareelite:
What do you do when you don’t want to do something but you also have to?
@theanswerisno:
Oh, it’s simple really.
I let it consume me until I become a husk of a person who can’t do anything, including the thing I need to do, but not excluding all the other stuff I could have been doing if I just did that one awful thing
@theanswerisno:
How about you?
@pancakesareelite:
Oh, I dive in headfirst and almost always regret it, but then I get to tick it off. I like to get stuff done
@theanswerisno:
You’ll get me killed
@pancakesareelite:
Yeah, maybe, but then we can mark it as done *tick*
I sent the drawings off to the printer and rested my aching head against the desk. I’d been staring at my screen nonstop for almost ten hours. But it was better than facing the hurricane of emotions fighting for attention inside me.
I grabbed my phone.Should I text Lincoln and apologize that I’d be imposing, orshould I message Link and apologize for ambushing him?
Once again, I decided on neither. I had to do this face-to-face.
A message popped up from an unsaved number.
Elizabeth, could we get your comment on this? Moonlight Media would love to hear about your experiences as a working girl.
There was a link attached, and my heart dropped down to the depths of my abdomen. I could see the preview, and with every read word, an old, cold presence seemed to circle me.
Douglas Gordon-Bettencourt’s daughter Elizabeth has left Hollywood and is pursuing a career in engineering. The CEO of GB Productions tells us about the hard decisions parents have to make in order to help their kids, no matter how old they get.
I exited and slammed my phone face down on the desk. I couldn’t read it. I didn’t want to read anything he’d said about me.I stood, straightened my skirt, and wobbled over to the printer.Was everyone watching me? Had they seen the article?
There was no reason to believe they’d see it. It was fine. It was all fine.
But when my gaze accidentally met Cedric’s, I knew it wasn’t fine. His smug smile was now locked and loaded, and there was nothing I could do to protect myself from the words that would be fired.
“I made fun of you for placing seventh, but considering how screwed up you are, it’s actually impressive.”
Ignoring him, I grabbed the drawing and motored toward Mr. Anders’s office. The sooner he could approve everything, the sooner I’d be out of here.
But when I entered Mr. Anders’s office, I knew the last of my luck had completely run out.
“Gordon-Bettencourt…” He shook his head. “You lived quite a colorful life before coming here, didn’t you? It’s not a great look for Simucon, but there’s no such thing as bad publicity. I just hope you know we’re not as forgiving as your father. Mistakes in this industry kill people.”
“I’m aware,” I said, my mind spinning. I should have known that awful man would have retaliated when I turned Alistair away.
Anders scrutinized the drawings in total silence and then rolled them up. When he looked at me, the modicum of respect I’d earned was gone. “Off you go.”
I mumbled my thanks and rushed home, keeping my head low.
