Written in the (Evening) Stars

Sterling Enterprises

When my best friend, and manager, Savannah, informed me that I would be placed on an entirely different assignment than usual, I was not expecting what would await me. I stare up at the seemingly hundred story building in front of me, questioning exactly what I did to deserve such a punishment. When I signed on to work at The Evening Star, this was not what I expected.

I heave a sigh as I stare at myself in the scarily reflective, tinted windows that lined the ground floor. Behind me cars and taxi's whizz by in loud rumbles, tourists and well-dressed business men and woman walk by in droves, and the food stands dotting the somehow not big enough sidewalk yell out to anyone who would listen. Then there's me standing in the middle of it all - mousey brown hair that's tied up in a somewhat messy bun with how quick I had to scramble, usually pale skin now bright red from my rush, brown eyes that look positively frazzled, and my forearm crutches that stick out like a sore thumb against my otherwise well-put together appearance.

Not wanting to prolong the moment any longer, I reach down carefully to smooth down the front of my long, black pencil skirt and attempt to fix my white ruffled blouse and polka dot cardigan. In an attempt to make myself feel somewhat better, I shift my shoulders to adjust the straps of my leather backpack. It doesn't do much, but it's enough. With one more sigh, I move towards the building, not entirely sure what awaits me inside.

I'm greeted first by an older gentleman sitting behind a desk, a greying and slightly wrinkled security guard by the name of Ron, according to his name tag.

"Name?" Ron asks, not even bothering to look up from his desk. "If you're a new employee, you can just use the QR code from your offer letter to scan in."

"Uhm, my name is Bee," I say before giving a sheepish look as Ron finally looks up. "Beatrice," I correct. "Beatrice Ellis."

"Beatrice Ellis," Ron says slowly as he types my name into his computer. Ron let out a laugh. "Don't tell me your middle name starts with the letter E, too."

"Eliana," I mutter with a flush.

"Of course it is," Ron huffs. "And you're here for-?"

"I'm with The Evening Star," I say. "I'm here to work with Mr. Blaine Sterling."

At the mention of Blaine, Ron's face twisted slightly. I frown at his reaction, but don't dare ask until his next comment.

"I feel sorry for you, then," Ron said, shaking his head.

"And why's that?" I question, not sure why Ron would say such a thing.

"Well," Ron said with a sigh. He finally looks up at me, his eyes settling on the crutches attached to my arms before he dares to look me in the eye. He holds out a plastic printed pass that says VISITOR on the front and a QR code on it. "You'll find out soon enough. Sterling's office is on the 34th floor."

I cast Ron one final look, unsure of the expression that he wore on his face. Normally I would see pity after people noticed my crutches, but the look on his face gave nothing away. Wanting to give Ron a moment to perhaps make a comment or explain himself further, I moved as slowly as I could towards the gate that would let me in. I looked at Ron one more time before tapping the card to the rectangular scanner to my right. The gates opened quickly, swishing upward with a mechanical hiss, and I stepped through, forcing myself to leave Ron and his blank stare behind.

The ride up to the 34th floor was surprisingly quick. There was barely any noise from the elevator as it quickly moved higher and higher. It moved so quick that I felt as though I teleported to where I needed to be, and was impatient when the doors took far too long to open.

At long last, the doors finally slid open, revealing a much different look than the ground floor. I was mentally prepared to be met with the same stark white floors and grey-slate walls and grey desk. Instead I was greeted with dark wood floors and modern furniture everywhere.