The Billionaire's Assistant

Chapter 3

Kat snaps back to reality, taking in the scene around her. The low ceiling room was cozily decorated with warm textiles hanging from each wall, although their purpose was more functional than aesthetic in the cold basement space. Low orange couches, cushy but well worn, framed the small room on three sides, and a low squat table ran the length of the middle of the room with 5 pillows situated around it. The carpet was a muted cream and covered in rugs in the same intricate swirling medallion pattern as the wall's quilts. Dark brown bookshelves lined the free wall, which was painted a khaki brown that differed from the cream of the other three. Large, leafy green plants bloomed from clay colored pots in each corner and drooped lazily from the tops of the bookshelf. Outside of the furniture in the room, it was filled with an inexplicably diverse set of knick knacks, trinkets, and curios. Small glass vases in multiple colors acted as random bookends and were complemented by several pieces of pottery clearly created with varying levels of skill. Jars of teas, dried herbs, and random sticks of incense were tucked into every available crevice, and piles of shells and rocks, bowls of beads, and displayed crystals made their home wherever they could fit. The teaming bookshelf was cramped with titles but more could be found nearly anywhere the eyes fell, on the arms of couches, tucked below the table, propped against the walls, even sticking from under the corner of the couch. A string of lights was hung precariously about the wall's edges, the only light source in the room save the various candles lit on every available surface. The dim glow gave the room a homey feel, its warmth bringing more life to the odd, vintage, almost rustic space. The den, they called it.

The space was situated like an old fashioned railcar apartment, and in order to enter one room, you had to enter another. The room in which they now stood was in the center, with the front room housing the kitchen and bathroom and the backroom housing the sleeping area. The kitchen was so inconsequential it hardly earned its title, and the tiny, standalone sink and single hot plate somehow competed for space. The bathroom was in a closet sized room directly off the kitchen and was so small that both opening and closing the door required a contortion of angling. The bathroom stayed true to the theme of sparsity, and boasted only a sink, toilet, and standing shower lined with slick white tiles.

The backroom, the room where they spent the least time, was hardly large enough for them to all fit. The room contained a solid wood bunk bed that was far sturdier than its appearance suggested, a low blue cot, and a twin sized bed. If someone doubled up there were technically enough beds for them all, but they rarely attempted to cram themselves that tightly into the space. Instead, one or two people, sometimes all of them depending on the night they'd had, spend the night on the deceptively comfortable couches in the living room, grateful for the ability to stretch out and the extra insulation provided by the textiles hanging from each wall.

Those textiles had been there longer than any of them, even longer than Andy had. Andy was the leader and longest standing member of FES, an underground group of radical environmental activists who took (sometimes illegal) action to protect the interests of the earth. Her brother had been one of the founding members of the group, killed by a trigger-happy ranger in an incident in the Oregon forest of Deschutes nearly ten years ago. Andy had been a child, just turning 13, but death made no pause for her preparation. Missing her brother spurred her on to not only lead FES, but to help it grow. Her whole life had been dedicated to environmental protection, and every action she took kept the planet first in mind. That was the reason that they lived in the den, or certainly at least a part of it in Kat's mind. The entire space was powered by solar, ergo the minimal electronic devices and the singular string of lights that was only utilized at night. The den was a small, cheap, innocuous space that no one would suspect, and after her brother died and the original members of FES were arrested or drifted apart, it became her space.

Andy was courage epitomized, she looked like it, she talked like it, she exuded it. It was like she owned the concept, she could gift it and revoke it as she pleased. She has small, deep set eyes with an indelible intensity and her gaze was a weapon in its own right, one that no member of FES wanted turned towards them. Andy bordered on the militaristic surrounding her environmental duties, and refused to use non recyclable materials, a cell phone, even a radio. The only electronics in the den outside of the hotplate and string lights were the defunct police scanner that her brother had hacked to tap into their active channels. The scanner's static buzz usually remained idle, but there have been times a few members of FES sat around it while others performed tasks under the cover of night, ensuring that if dispatch sends an officer to their area, they're aware as soon as they can be.

The members of FES didn't hurt people and they didn't steal things, not in the traditional sense. They were disruptors, disruptors of the environmental status quo, and their mode of operation included sabotaging corporations, businesses, or events with a detrimental environmental impact. They got a golf course shut down due to repeated late night disturbances, they hindered the construction of a newly proposed plastic manufacturing site, they even blackmailed a cheating politician into voting against legislation that would lower electricity costs for major corporations. Andy always wanted to do more, to go bigger, to target the giants of the industry, but the majority of what they did remained at the community level. From when she first joined to now, Kat spent most of her time engaged in the small things that the group did on a daily basis to try and make the world a better place. They would pick up trash, dumpster dive behind grocery store chains and recover tons of food waste that they would prepare and deliver to food banks. They planted trees, they removed hostile architecture, they brought blankets and warm meals to the homeless people in their area, the small things that they could afford without the benefit of a 9-5. They helped the community, they truly did, but in the small scale way that they could. This wasn't enough for Andy, and the impact that her brother had was what she'd strived for since the group's responsibility suddenly fell on her young shoulders. She always wanted to do more, to stop more, to give more, and she occasionally grew morose, inconsolable about the fact that her brother died protecting an earth that she isn't doing enough for.

Andy was tall but too waifish to be intimidating despite the sometimes stoney intensity of her expressions, and her proportions were modelesque, her long thin legs usually exposed by the cargo shorts she'd made her typical uniform. She dressed simply and modestly, generally in thrifted t-shirts and shorts, and the rest of the group followed suit, dressing down and neutrally enough that they all often swapped and borrowed each other's clothes, even Brent and Conner's. Kat had never borrowed anything of Jack's, but that was to be expected, at least for her.

Kat turned towards Jack, sneaking a glance at the stoic man who'd said little during their impromptu celebration. He looked suddenly down at her, his green eyes sinking into hers, and she felt her ears redden as she nearly whipped her head away. Jack had been the very first person she'd seen when she entered the den, and he'd almost shaken her confidence enough for her not to enter at all. He'd been a member for less time than anyone but her, and Andy had introduced him to her as 'the new guy'.

Jack was quiet, much quieter than Kat, and spoke so infrequently that the room often fell silent when he did, everyone straining their ears to hear each word he said and straining their minds to fill in the blanks for the words he didn't say. Jack worked hard, and had become a part of the group because of practicality and logic more than a love of nature. After he and his mother lost their home in a mudslide caused by topsoil erosion he became obsessed with fighting for those who couldn't fight for themselves, especially when their opponent takes the form of a powerful corporation backed by the government.

When they met, he'd shaken Kat's hand in his large, strong one, and nodded at her in welcome, his eyes lingering on her face. Despite the huge decision she was facing, she found that she couldn't stop thinking about his spikes of black hair and piercing green eyes, and ever since then she'd been nervous around him. One look could leave her sporting bright red ears or send her into peals of stuttering, and despite the fact that she'd lived with him in close quarters for almost a year, they had yet to have a conversation with any depth beyond their plans for the day.