50 Shades of Drake 5 and 6

Chapter Seventy-One

    "Oh my God."

    "Sherry, look."

    "Is he here for an interview?" 

    "What is he doing here?"

    "I don't know. I just looked up and he was there."

    "Damn, he looks good."

    "He looks good as hell."

    "I heard he's dating someone, but I don't even care."

    "He's not just dating someone, he's reportedly engaged."

    "You're the only person I know who says 'reportedly' in every day conversation."

    There was no point in whispering when someone was walking past you. You might as well speak in normal volumes, because nine times out of ten, the whispering went heard by the person you were whispering about. Aubrey strode through the offices of the Los Angeles Times with one hand in his pocket and the other stroking his perfectly groomed beard. His stride managed to come off as being both casual and purposeful. His eyes were narrowed; he was seeking out someone in particular, and this went noted by some of the writers that he passed by.

    Good old L.A. Times...they made it easy for him. There was an office door at the end of the aisle marked "Adam Gorosky, Editor-in-Chief." His lips curled into a smirk as he stood in front of the door. He turned his head to the side.

    As expected, everyone in the office still had their eyes on him. They were waiting to see what he would do next. They wanted to know who he could possibly be here to see.

    He swiveled his head back around and looked at the frosted glass on the office door. His first instinct was to raise a hand and knock. After all, that was the gentlemanly thing to do. But...the thing was, he didn't feel like quite the gentleman today. Instead of knocking, he reached out, grabbed the door handle, and twisted it.

    The dark-haired man with the eyes as round as globes had to be Adam Gorosky. Adam stared up at Aubrey. His expression morphed from one of shock to recognition to awe.

    "Good afternoon," Aubrey said, walking into the office and closing the door behind him.

    Adam removed his hands from his keyboard. "You're...you're..."

    "I'm...I'm..." Aubrey mocked with a grin. "I'm Aubrey Graham, yes." He gestured to one of the chairs in front of Adam's desk. "May I sit?"

    Adam wiped his brow. "May you sit? Shit, of course. Yeah, go ahead."

    Aubrey unbuttoned his suit jacket and sat down. He glanced around the office. This office couldn't even compete with a low ranking executive's back at Graham Enterprises. It lacked in decoration and personality. There was a desk, a few paintings that looked like they could've been purchased at a local thrift store, and a coat hanger over in the corner. "I understand that you had the pleasure of meeting Destiny Richards yesterday."

    Adam's eyebrows shot up. "We're getting straight to it, then?"

    Aubrey glanced around the office in disdain. "I don't want to spend more time in this office than I absolutely have to." His glance swung back around to Adam. "No offense."

    "None taken," Adam replied. "I did get the chance to meet Destiny, yes."

    "She was told that her job would be fetching coffee for other writers." Aubrey made it a statement and not a question.

    Adam stared back at him, as if he was waiting for him to say something else. When he realized that no more words were coming, he stammered, "Y-yes. That is the information she was given, yes."

    "Why?" Aubrey asked.

    "That is the job that was initially offered to her," Adam explained.

    "Why?" Aubrey persisted.

    A tic started working at the corner of one of Adam's eyes. "Uh...because that is the job generally offered to recent graduates, so they can work their way up."

    "Why?" Aubrey asked again.

    Adam burst out laughing and broke eye contact.

    Aubrey continued staring at him, and there was nothing funny in the look he gave the editor.

   "Come on, man," Adam said, looking back at Aubrey. "You sound like one of those little kids who keeps asking 'why.'"

    Aubrey leaned back in his chair. He raised an arm and adjusted the cuffs to his right dress shirt sleeve. "Have you read any of Destiny's work? I assume she sent examples of her work with her application."

    "I have, yes."

    "Your thoughts?" Aubrey questioned.

    "She has potential to be a phenomenal journalist," Adam remarked.

    "And when someone has the potential to be a phenomenal journalist, you make it a habit to sit them on the bench instead of putting them into the game, based off of when they graduated college?" Aubrey queried.

    Adam opened his mouth to answer, then closed it.

    "Do you see the flaw in that logic?" Aubrey asked.

    "I...I guess so, but it's tradition."

    "Tradition." Aubrey rose out of his chair and walked over to one of the random paintings hanging on the wall. The artist had attempted to capture a scene with a jockey riding a horse. "Do you like horses?"

    "Not really."

    "You have a painting of one hanging in your office."

    "I noticed that, yeah."

    Aubrey arched a look at the editor over his shoulder. "You. Your office. The...traditions of this office...they remind me of everything that I hate about Los Angeles. They remind me why I moved back to Toronto. As beautiful as this place can be...and as beautiful as the people are... there is no authenticity in this city. There is no pride for this city, and what a wonder that is when there's nothing for them to be proud of. Basketball wins here and there are nothing. Foam. And that is coming from someone who loves basketball. But in the ultimate scheme of life, people deserve more than that to be proud of. You had the chance to have a true dedicated writer on your team, someone who would have ridden for your paper until this building turned into dust, and now you won't have that chance. You won't have that chance because of shitty traditions and a shitty mentality."

    Adam sat up straighter in his chair. "I think I'd like for you to leave."

    Aubrey turned and approached the desk. "Do you have security in place to apprehend me if I don't comply with that request?"

    Adam's face turned beet red.

    Aubrey placed both hands on the edge of the desk and leaned close to Adam. "You're lucky. If I wanted to, I could buy this paper. I could buy this building. I would own this building and everyone in it. But...when it comes to the things that I own, I tend to have high standards. This paper...this building...and you do not meet my very high standards. So you can keep your little traditions. Destiny would like to regretfully reject your offer to make her your slave. She already has one master to serve, and that master's name is not Adam Gorosky."

    "What the hell does rejecting our job offer prove?" Adam demanded, leaping out of his chair. "Do you think she'll get a job anywhere else in this city, after everyone hears about the way you stormed into my office like you owned the place?"

    "She won't need to," Aubrey said, straightening his posture and backing away from the desk. "If you know what's good for you, you won't speak one word about this conversation to anyone...but even if you do manage to let it slip, all you'll be doing is giving my baby girl promo. So whatever you speak on is up to you, but know this: she will single-handedly show you and your entire staff what a real journalist is capable of. And that day is coming sooner than later. Take care of yourself, now." With those words, he exited the office and closed the door at his back.

    Heads whipped around and the whispering started back up.

    This time, he smiled at everyone he passed on the way out.