My Fiction Fix #01

Writing Idea #64: The Smartest

The Smartest:

Failure is the enemy. I wandered the dark, misty streets of failure once and the taste of blood in murky waters is still how I remembered it to feel like. Leander Carmichael was my enemy from day one, fifth grade, spelling bee. In eighth grade, we were debating, soccer, chemistry, biology, ancient history, English and computer science enemies. Imagine what we were like in twelfth grade. The worst of people, competitive in nasty structures, nasty in the worst of times.

The only thing he had up on me was money.

With money came power when I thought it was always knowledge with power.

When I graduated college at twenty-two with a triple degree in computer programming, creative English literature and linguistics, he was taking a law degree to a whole new level. I saw him standing by a private limousine across the street once while I waited for my bus and I was a non-existent piece of nothing.

Until one day, I wasn't.

CHAPTER 1:

The face of one of the most powerful, eligible men in all of Law in America. He had won forty-two cases out of forty-five. And those first three were considered mis-trials because of the other side. He stood there with wet pitch black hair, strands that tipped onto his forehead, an Armani suit and an expensive long coat that ended at his thighs. Those old friends from high school were Lea Roberts, Zachariah Rogers and Cody Clarkson. All who got into the US government, whether it be law, health, parliament, you name it, they were in there.

On screen, he discussed the issues addressed in the latest scandals in parliament and the ministry. I flicked my television off, the apartment was pre-heated, making me flush and redden until other days it would be so cold that I needed extra blankets on the bed. New York in winter was a travesty.

I tensed when a knock echoed on the door, "Lorelei Adam, are you in there?" My neighbour, Mrs Wadolski was a cranky old woman who always wanted me to buy her groceries from the store, even though I've seen her get them delivered. I kept my door locked all the time and thankfully left early, only to return late. My sleeping patterns were horrific.

I silently walked back into bed and curled my duvet over me, feigning deep sleep. When her knocking stopped and the list of blueberries, ginger beer and rice crispies ended, I didn't have to feign sleep any longer. I drifted into a dark obsidian dream with a better apartment and luxury surrounding me.

The second I woke up and got ready for work, I was ready to leave by six in the morning. The publishing company was filled with celebrities wanting their biographies published to perfection. I avoided them like the plague and stepped into the secondary editor's assistant office. My office.

When I sat down inside, my desktops flashed to life with all the documents I was working on last night. I groaned under my breath at eighteen new emails from the secondary editor asking for the next manuscript to be completed before next month. She only provided the words next month because she's been dumping her work on me so she can travel Europe with her boyfriend.

I glanced around the glass walls before my phone vibrated on the desk, I closed my eyes at the name. It didn't help that the only friend I had was Lea Roberts' neighbour in their luxury apartment building. Aileen Quinn was an actress for some of the hottest action films in the last five years. She once even helped me get a part time job scripting a few scenes in one of her films while I was studying English, linguistics and academic writing as my triple major. I'd only go to her place once a year, new years.

She sent me a lengthy message, and it was nowhere near new years.

Ace Winthrop, the infamous romance singer, was in town and she wanted me to go with her this evening. I told her I'd have to wait and see given the work I had on.