Moral of the Story

Chapter 2

Within a few days, I'd moved across the country. Even though anyone from Xavier's could fly over without warning, I thought it would be good for me. I wanted to escape Jean and the heartache she brought with her. Jean had everything. I had left, she had Logan, and I'm sure she would find a way to manipulate Scott again. Just like always done.

Given the circumstances, I wasn't looking forward to my return as a teacher. I had worked as a secretary for a lawyer through college to be able to pay for tuition, and I decided that would be my best bet.

I sat in my bed at the hotel, craning my neck at my laptop screen. Finding a job here was a lot harder than I had anticipated. After a few hours, I had finally found a decent opening. It was a higher-level position at a conglomerate major enough for even me to have heard of. I suppose it's not shocking how much the former CEO is always in the news. A fact that makes sense with the understanding that almost every eligible lady threw herself at him and, oh, how could I forget, one of his board members and most trusted advisors had tried to kill him. Twice.

I set up the meeting for the day after tomorrow, fearing that the next day would be filled with an intense migraine, a common side-effect of driving past 2 A.M. trying to make it to California in the shortest time possible. I got up, placed my computer on the provided desk, plugged it in, and begrudgingly moved to the bathroom to get ready for bed.

The next day came, and for the second time this week, I'd been right in the type of way I loathe. When I got up, I could barely move, my muscles aching after spending the past few days stuck in my car, only taking a few long breaks to get some rest and about a half dozen times each day for food, drinks, and the restroom. Changing into something comfortable, I left my hotel room. The search for a decent coffee shop now beginning.

After about half an hour, I found a place that looked decent enough. I walked in, and it felt like all eyes were on me. The feel of burning gazes, the sudden urge to make myself as small as possible, and the waves of dread crashing down on me. My symptoms of anxiety. An all too familiar feeling. I looked up at the menu, order already in mind.

"Hi! I'll get a hazelnut latte with almond milk if you have it. Oh, and it says on the menu that there's a white chocolate scone. I'll have one of those as well."

"Okay, an almond-hazel-latte with a white scone. Who's it for?"

"Uh, Kyrie."

"Okay, Kai. Someone'll call when your order's done."

"Okay, thank y-"

"Please, go find a seat."

I backed away awkwardly. Slightly raising my arms, hands up in thumbs up. I walked away, putting my arms down, looking for a table to work at.

To no surprise, most tables were empty. For those occupied, their occupants were dressed in semi-professional attire, almost definitely catching up before going to work; the separation between their lives and my own shifted into something all the more evident.

After about ten minutes, a barista called for the fake name I had given them. I got up and grabbed my order.

I sat at a table away from the windows and took out my laptop. I opened my email, checking for any new correspondents, to see almost 200 new emails, over half of which were from Logan and the other teachers of Xaviers. I went to Logan's profile, blocked him, and used the search bar to delete his previous messages. I don't need to read the pity speech of someone who doesn't value me as even a human being.

I scrolled through and saw an email from Scott, an unusual occurrence for him. I clicked to open it but didn't get the chance to read it, the screech of someone pulling at the table's other chair making it exceptionally difficult.

"Why are you- why did you sit down?"

"I'm hiding from my bodyguard who is very determined to stay aware of my whereabouts. Even if he thinks it's me sitting with you. He won't interrupt our conversation. So, what's a pretty thing like you doing in a place like this?" said a man with dark brown hair in an expensive-looking suit, "You're new around here aren't you?"

Great. Preppy, rich white guy hiding from his bodyguard, the horror. I laid my head on my hand and took a sip of my coffee.

"And how would you know if I was? My attitude, my dress, perhaps an unusual drained look plastered on my face." A cheeky tone in my voice. It didn't matter if I was exhausted; this could be fun.

"I was going to say your accent, but sure, let's go with one of those."

"What do I get?" I took a bite of my scone. It wasn't as good as I had hoped but not far from what I had expected.

"I'm sorry, pardon?" Moved his torso to face me.

"What do I get if I don't rat you out?"

"You get a conversation with me, not something afforded to most." He leaned back.

The door rings. A bigger man in a suit with short, curly hair, a goatee, and sunglasses walks in. The man in front of me gives me a slightly urgent stare.

"I want a favor. Anything, anytime. Within reason, of course."

"Okay, fine; that works for me, just well, you know help." His voice was now a low whisper.

"Pleasure doing business with you," I say as I grab him by the tie, pulling him into a kiss. After a few seconds, I pull away slightly. I glanced around the room, my eyes landing on his supposed bodyguard. The man in question was looking the other way, an almost abashed look on his face.

"Wow, I was not expecting that."

"I'd recommend getting used to it, sweetheart."

His bodyguard took a final look around the room, figuring his client was somewhere else. Just as he entered he left, without a single word.

Hearing the door close he leaned back stretching almost, "So, what do you want? Money, political support, a fun time maybe. I mean with the kiss you gave me I would think the last of which."

"I'll pass. I just moved here, and I need a job. So, If my interview tomorrow goes to shit, your company or whatever you do is the backup now. Congrats!" My voice was now full of sarcasm.

"Hand me your phone, now. Don't be shy." I opened and closed my hand repeatedly to affirm my statement.

"Pushy, are we?" He sat up lightly and pulled out the latest iPhone. I should have expected that. I grabbed it and slid the lock screen open.

"Really? You don't have a password? Mr.," I paused with the new knowledge of who this man was, "Mr. Stark. Know what? I'll call in that favor right about now."