What You Don't Know (Sequel to "Secret Love")(Hunter Hayes/James Marsden)

Organized

It was nothing extraordinary. The front room looked almost identical to that in Trenton's main office, with all-white walls and a single grey chair in the middle of the left wall. No paintings, no extreme light from the tiny chandelier above. Most importantly, though, there was no one there to occupy the lonely seat.

Perhaps Rory is out somewhere? She hoped he would be gone for a while if that were the case. There was nothing more irritating than knowing one simple-minded assistant could very easily ruin her plan.

She sneakily checked the ceiling for cameras, but saw none. She was a little disappointed by that, actually. Would Trenton not have set up some sort of video security system if this place held secret information? Surely it made sense, since he had put so many security pass codes between the front door and the main office.

She punched in the second code and pressed on. Oddly enough, that door only led her into a hallway. The walls were black, not white, and there was naught but a string of embedded overhead bulbs to guide her. She continued down the inauspicious hallway until she reached yet another door. She turned back for a moment, and was surprised to notice that she could not see the door from which she had come.

What a creepy place, she thought. Whether this is a secret lair or not, I don't think I could work in this building!

The last code was eighteen numbers in total, and her hand shook as she pressed the digits on the keypad. She managed to get it all correct on the first try, and as the door swung open, she heaved a sigh of relief. She was in!

The room was completely dark, devoid of even a window to provide the tiniest bit of sunlight. She felt along the wall for a light switch, finally finding it in the middle of the wall, just above her shoulder. Light poured into the room, and she was comforted by the fact that this central room was far better lit than any of those preceding it.

Two plush chairs sat in front of a chestnut desk. Behind it was a high-backed, black leather swivel that signified power and authority. Bethany almost scoffed, imagining Trenton sitting there with his hands folded over his enormous belly, with his ridiculous comb-over.

On the desk was nothing but a few pencils and a large manila folder. Bethany scanned the area for cameras again, but found none in there either. Right off, Bethany saw the jacket hanging on the back of Trenton's chair, but did not immediately head for it. Instead, she routed herself around the desk and gingerly lifted the cover of the manila folder.

Trying not to get the papers out of order, she flipped through the few on top. They seemed innocent enough; just portfolios of various people. Her own picture was the first one she saw, beaming in her official Broadway backstage pass. Her information was listed below, her references, her resume. It was just a copy of what she had sent in when they had worked together on West Side Story. The next was the profile of someone named Dean Mosby. The name sounded slightly familiar, but the face was not one she knew. The next was a man by the name of Lynn Shelby, also an actor.

All of the pages looked exactly the same. Name after name, pictures and information flashed before her: Terry Martin, Marvin Lovegood, Brain McAdams, Leslie Beck, Bruce Clemens, Rice Leving. Nothing odd, not even a red mark or a dog ear!

Her mouth turned down in disappointment, and she turned to look at his drawers. All of them appeared to have locks on them. She hugged, though that did explain the massive number of keys on Trenton's key ring. She supposed her next mission was going to be finding a way to get a copy of those keys. Surely he kept something more sinister than actor profiles in drawers he had to keep locked.

Just as she was replacing the papers and grabbing the jacket, a buzzer sounded and the door swung open. Her heart froze. She turned, face flaming, to see Rory glaring at her in suspicion.

"Why are you here?" he said, not bothering with pleasantries.

Bethany, well acquainted with Rory's aptitude for curtness, simply pulled the prop ring out of the jacket pocket and held it out for him to see.

"Trenton gave me the codes. We need this for rehearsal. Which you're supposed to attend, by the way," she chastised him, giving him her own glare.

He looked unabashed, turning and holding the door open for her and watching as she exited, clenching the velvet box in her hand and rolling her eyes.

What a successful mission, Beth, she thought sarcastically. You managed to find out that Trenton locks his drawers and takes his work home with him. Nice. The FBI will be really interested in that!

As the day wore on, she tried to decipher some hidden meaning to the profiles on the desk. Why was hers at the top? For that matter, she did not recall seeing any other women's names in the stack, though she had not been intrigued enough to go through the entire folder. Perhaps her profile had been misplaced? Put in the wrong file?

None of the names had sounded familiar, besides Dean Mosby's. She could not remember where she had heard it, but she could feel the pinch of a vague memory in the back of her brain. All of the others had been men she had neither seen nor heard of, though she assumed they were all actors. Why else would Trenton have portfolios of them?

She could not help but ask herself why that particular file would have been left out on Trenton's desk. Sure, it was possible he had simply forgotten to put it back in whichever drawer he kept such things, but that seemed rather unlikely, as she had never known Trenton to leave papers on his main desk, either, and there was nothing even slightly suspicious in that room. Why would he have been looking at that one in particular, though, when it would seem that the only name in that file associated with this production was hers?

She shrugged, deciding to talk it over with Jeremy Willakers at her weekly update meeting in the morning. She was probably thinking too far into it. Perhaps she simply did not understand Trenton's organization style.

However, she made a concentrated effort to remember all of the names she had seen in the folder, writing them down and tucking them in the zipper pocket of her purse so she would not forget. She would be certain to look them up later, just in case. 

Here we go. An update! xD Haha. How is everybody doing?

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