RIDE ✧ {H.S.}

9.

The walls were lined with candid photos of legendary musicians, some half naked, coked up, and all entangled with Livia.

Interesting taste in office decor.

Given there were no windows in the studio, she'd taken that luxury to plaster the most promiscuous photo's around her workspace. One thing unique to every framw was her involvement. She'd been in the foreground in each picture. Her fingers wrapped around these men, they'd bow down to her or be the subject of humiliation. There's a weird bout of discomfort that soaked in my chest, knowing she may have this dynamic with her other clients.

I had to be quick dropping off this envelope for Harry. There wasn't much space on her messy desk for anything to be left in clear sight. There were thousands of loose papers sprawled across the wooden surface, crinkling and conforming to the air movement around. Besides a stack beige notecards was a thick pile of crisp white sheets adorned with the Accardi logo at top.

Harry's Accardi Contracts.

I could easily swipe these papers to destroy, but that wouldn't stop them from reprinting or continuing on with the deal. He'd still be the face no matter what, but the legalities might change if these papers were ruined. I'm not sure how'd that would change any real world dynamics, given we barely had a connection to be severed. We'd talked, snorted, and sucked. As acquaintances.

I knew tampering with something as official as contracts was far beyond my reach at this company. I'd been practically removed from Accardi as I know it, my status revoked as the next executive. While my father's never gone to this length to emancipate me, I knew he'd come around. Maybe I'd conjure up a scenario to victimize myself back into his life. Using weakness was a great tactic at infiltrating a higher power. When someones at a league of their own, they know they can't be penetrated.  Out of everything in this room, this damn stack of papers irked me the most. The eyes of the lewd photographed men stared while my fingers parted each of the papers' apart to get a view of the next page. Stretches of business jargon and restrictions bled through each line. Upon the last page was the signature mark, labeled with a giant 'Fuck You'.

I had thought the contracts were signed, but Livia was unsuccessful at securing the deal. I'm not sure if she knew that. A week or two ago she'd mentioned meeting privately to tame this situation, speaking of that event as if she locked him in. She spoke of metaphorically grabbing him by the chest. All of this said with a crude sense of pride. Her goal was to break him down and rebuild him into something 'better'.

Similar to the postered men lining the walls, Livia wanted Harry to be her puppet. While we have our differences, I can relate to her on some level. The desire for power. She'd grown up, similar to me, in her fathers world. Successful men. She'd been the heiress for A.C. Records, living off old money. I don't admire a single ounce of her, but I sympathize with her darkness. It's simply the repression she'd held down becoming louder than honesty.

My fingers retracted from the desk as some distant hallway noise inspired anxiety through me. I can't get caught. I've already spent enough time psychoanalyzing the posters on the wall and her disorganized space enough to have gotten caught several times already.

I left the envelope at Harry's instructions, before silently trailing to the door. Harsh footsteps could be my fatal mistake. My toes carefully curled with each step, softly descending to the floorboards with a muffled sound. I clasped around the offices doorknob slow enough to delay any sound of my rings hitting the metal. This is how I felt as a teenager, sneaking out every weekend.

Meeting the hallway lights felt like a breath of fresh air, but my battle had only now begun. Around my neck hung Harry's newly gifted camera, hitting against my chest with each labored breath and harsh movement. It felt like a weight, but must've held something valuable if Harry delivered it to me. The maze-like studio halls grew lighter when I neared the exit stairs. Once out the building, I had to deflect from any bystanders or paparazzi and find the car.