Superficial (DE)

One.

"Move GiGi!" Cerise shouted at her two year old teacup Yorkie who's favorite hobby was to always be in the way as Cerise hopped around her bedroom on one foot trying to hurriedly put on her matching nude patent leather pump.

Cerise had no idea what time it was, but judging by how high the sun is currently in the sky from the view of her uptown condo on the twenty-fourth floor, she was at least a couple hours late for work. This was her third time this month, and if it weren't for the fact that she was employed at her fathers law firm she surely would've been fired by now.

Cerise had gone to dinner at Nobu with a few of her girlfriends the night before. She told herself two drinks max because it was a Sunday and she had to be up bright and early the next morning but somehow that had gone out the window. She'd woken up still in her dress from dinner with the same face of makeup on and an unforgiving hangover.

Grabbing the black Birkin 30 off the kitchen island that she used as a work bag gifted to her by her parents two christmases ago, she ran out of the door but not before blowing GiGi a kiss, allowing the automatic lock to lock itself on the way out.

"Good morning Ms. Harvey—," The door man to her building greeted as he opened the door for her.

"Otis," She smiled politely, running out into the bustling New York morning traffic, immediately hailing a yellow cab.

Cerise stopped at Einstein's bagels and grabbed breakfast for the office and a black coffee for her father— just the way he liked it. If she was going to be late might as well add a few minutes to it. Maybe then her father won't be as mad once he sees she bought him something— right?

"Please come visit us soon— your father and I miss you,"

Brandon clenched his jaw tightly, standing in front of the elevator waiting for it to come down from the fifteenth floor. He watched the number countdown slowly— from fifteen to fourteen, from fourteen to twelve, skipping the thirteenth floor.

"Do you hear me?" His mother asked.

"Yes ma'am," Brandon answered. "I have to go— I have a meeting with an attorney,"

The line fell silent. Brandon's mother didn't have to speak for him to hear the disappointment. Her son went from a brilliant straight A college graduate, mechanical engineer and aircraft pilot to a felon seemingly over night.

"I love you son," She spoke, her voice solemn.

"I love you too,"

The elevator doors opened just as he ended his call, stepping on and hitting the sixteenth floor button— Harvey Law. He placed his hands into his Armani slacks, straightening his posture as he watched the floor numbers go up— one through twelve, skipping thirteen again, and continuing up until the elevator dinged on the sixteenth floor.

"Brandon Valentino— I have an appointment with Mr. Harvey at eleven," Brandon said to the receptionist, an older black woman.

She nodded and picked up the phone notifying Mr. Harvey that Brandon was there. Brandon stepped off to the side with his hands in his pocket, looking around the polished law firm with a clean modern aesthetic which had a pleasent view of downtown from the enormous floor to ceiling office windows— not better than the view from his penthouse though.

"Mr. Valentino,"

Brandon lifted his head upon hearing his name, seeing Mr. Harvey appear in the doorway of an office holding the door open and inviting him in. Brandon shook Mr. Harvey's hand, taking a seat across from him at his polished desk.

"I'm Michael Harvey but you can call me Michael— what can I do for you today son?" Michael asked as he sat in his plush office seat, adjusting his crimson red tie suavely as he sat back.