Action (DNF)

Chapter 39: Sick

George POV.

The moment that I got Clay’s message I stood up, pocketing my phone before beginning to walk out of the building from through the side door in the breakroom. For a few moments as I walked silently along the side of the building, only hearing my footsteps, but then almost like I entered a different atmosphere I could hear chatter from the front of the building.

I quickly stepped out onto the street, noticing Clay sitting in his car on the opposite side of the road. Maybe if my head wasn’t hurting that much, and I wasn’t that fazed from my brief interaction earlier with the man who caused all of this, I would have run over to him before the rest of the crowd realising anything, but I didn’t do that.

The thing is, nobody seemed to notice that Clay was here, all too focused on trying to get into the bar to see me. I felt bad for both Wilbur, and whichever other coworker was going to come in to cover for me, that they’d have to deal with all of these obsessive weirdos.

As I moved to cross the street one of the members of the crowd noticed me and they all suddenly swarmed me like insects. My breathing quickly started to pick up as they all began asking questions or taking photos, or asking me to sign something. I just remembered what the blond had said and just politely turned them down.

The most terrifying thing though, was the fact that some people actually had photos of myself, which I don’t have any clue how they found. It unnerved me about how insane a lot of these people were. Plus, did none of them have anything better to do with their lives, other than obsess over me at work.

It was difficult, and the crowd didn’t allow me to move much, with their endless bombardment of questions and demands just slowing me down. Eventually though I managed to get to the street and I ran across it to Clay’s car.

The blond was standing outside waiting for me, or waiting for a sign that he had to approach to help, but I got to him before he needed to do that. The moment I crossed the street his arm was around my back and he directed me to the passenger seat. We walked around the side of the car before the obsessive fans reached us and then the blond hurried to the driver's door.

It took less than thirty seconds from when I reached him to when he started driving, and now that I was alone I felt like I could breathe again. I looked over at Clay, a somewhat sad smile on his face as he glanced over at me. “How are you feeling?” He asked while continuing to navigate traffic. “I heard from Wilbur about some guy harassing you at work.”

“Just annoyed really.” I replied. “I don’t know how what he said got to me. It was like he was asking me normal questions, but at the same time also ones that are terrifyingly personal.” I explained. “I don’t know how somebody could do that as a job, it’s just so heartless.”
“Yeah, I know.” Clay nodded. “What kind of things did he say?”

“Well I was upset about that movie we watched earlier today, Flowers From 1970, and I was crying about it because it was sad. Wilbur told me that after work we could go get some ice cream if I cheered up, despite the fact it was Winter. So I went to serve a customer, and it just so happened to be a reporter, and he started to ask questions.”

“Do you mind telling me what they asked?” Clay questioned, and that was when I hesitated, and it caused one of his hands to move over to rest on my thigh comfortingly.
“It was just some questions about if something bad happened between the two of us, and if that was why I was crying.”

“And what did you tell him in response?” The blond asked me.
“I just told him that I was here to work and not to ask questions. I hoped he’d be like ‘oh that’s alright’ and ‘sorry for wasting your time’ and leave, but he just said that he’d be fine waiting until I finished working to ask some questions and I kind of freaked out from there…”

Clay stayed calm and silent throughout my explanation and I couldn’t help but worry that him being calm was a way of showing that he thought I was overreacting, which in itself was an overreaction. So, I tentatively asked after a moment, ‘Should I not have said that?’ Did I do something wrong?’.

“No.” He was quick to reassure. “You did nothing wrong. A lot of people just don’t respect that the rich and famous like to have their own private lives. I’m sorry that you had to go through that.” The hand that was resting on my thigh gave it a caring squeeze, which made me relax and I gave a nod in understanding.

“So would you like to go back to your house?” The blond asked. “Or we could go back to mine, cuddle up in a blanket and order some room service.” I smiled at the second offer, muttering about how that sounded nice and I’d like to be able to cuddle up in his room. There was a nod in understanding before he went to turn at a set of traffic lights.

As we were driving my phone vibrated again, and I glanced over at Clay, almost as if I was asking for his approval, or his opinion on whether I should answer the call or not. He was focusing on the road at this point in time so he was no help. I pulled my phone from my pocket to see who was calling me, and much to my shock it was my boss.

This made me know that I had to answer, and so I pressed the answer button and pulled it up to my ear. “Hello Schlatt.” I greeted, wanting to say more but being cut off before I got the chance.
“George, I heard from Wilbur that you weren’t feeling well and so you decided to go home sick.”

“Oh, yeah. I was just feeling kinda nauseous, and some of the people coming in were just stressing me out more, so I had to go home.”
“I was wondering if when you are feeling better, you would be able to come in for a meeting with me.”

He said it in the way that some member of authority does where it sounds like a question, or a suggestion, or an option, when in reality it was an order. I had always been a relatively good employee, at least in my opinion, so I couldn’t think of a reason why I would be having one of these talks with Schlatt, but I was too tired mentally to question him.

“Sure. I think I’ll be feeling better by tomorrow morning, if you want to meet up and talk then, then I should be free at any time.” I offered.
“That’ll be perfect.” Schlatt responded. “I am free at 11am tomorrow, just come by the bar and it’ll be a five minute chat at most.”

He said a couple more words before hanging up and I quickly pocketed my phone. Clay had been listening to my side of the conversation, and once I was alone he offered for us to once again watch a movie once we returned to the hotel. I gave a smile in enthusiasm before getting comfortable again in my seat.
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1295 words