Submission {UNFIN}

Chapter Nine.

11:23 a.m., New York City, Vogue National Offices, Top Floor.

After downing the correct dosage, I dumped the orange vial of pills deep into my purse and took a swig of my venti Passion Tea before breathing profoundly in attempts to ease the burning in my chest that had begun to spread up my neck and toward my head. It wasn't too customary of me to need my medication, but when stressful situations rose and my anxiety sky-rocketed, I was forced to pull them out. 

My stagnant breaths continued to rise and fall like the subdued, soothing notes of Sade oozing from my speakers. Oxygen found its way to my brain from the simple respiratory exercise, alleviating my thoughts and the shake of my hands that wouldn't allow me to work. I let the velvety sound of Somebody Already Broke My Heart seep into me and bowed my head down to the work that laid in front of me, or loomed in front of me rather. 

The photos of an upcoming spread overtook my attention and I was reminded, for a series of moments, why I loved my job. A rapping of knuckles on my door interrupted my flow, and I lifted my head in pique as I brushed a wisp of my hair away from my face.

"Come in," I called, indifferently. Much not my surprise, Rita's meek figure entered with a hesitant expression on her face. I hated indecision, and that was because it often reminded me of anxiety, which was precisely the last thing that I needed. 

"Ms. Knowles-"

"That would be my name Rita. What, for the love of all that is good and Prada, do you want?" I inquired with immaculate enunciation. My eyes went to the pulsing of the vein on the side of her neck that revealed her nervousness, then to the slight arch of her brow that showed the most minuscule bit of irritation, and settled on the way her fingers clung to that cheap, periwinkle chiffon fabric of her tutu skirt that hinted at fear. Studying body habits presented plenty about a person's emotions, and the amusing aspect of it was that they usually didn't even know they were doing paltry things like arching an eyebrow or tapping a foot, though I was guilty of the foot tapping occasionally. 

"Mr. Carter is h-"

"Tell him I'm not available." She sighed.

"He is obsessive!" Releasing a chuckle and taking off my reading glasses, I prepared to educate Rita on a few, useful things, which would be pretty beneficial when Rita herself wasn't too useful. 

"You couldn't blame him, could you?" I joked, for the first time being lighthearted with her. She smiled, much to my contentment, and I enjoyed a normal relationship for the five seconds that both of us laughed together. "The next time you see him, tell him that I said he is proof that a man can live without a brain. No means an absolute and final no, okay?" She nodded vigorously.

"Yes ma'am." 

"And tell him that the next time he bothers you with this mess, I will find him and personally drag him by that big ass nose of his to the doctor to get tests done for mental incompetence. Oh, and don't call me ma'am. Do I look like a ma'am?"

"No."

"Then delete that word from your small vocabulary. That's all." The door opened yet again, and dismay was all I could feel when he dared to step foot onto the carpet of my office. 

"Mental incompetence? A little harsh, don't you think?" I rolled my eyes as Rita shrunk into herself, more than likely scared that I would treat her to a long tirade on doing a better job at keeping unwanted people out of my office. 

"Rita, thank you, that's all." She eased out of the room and shut the door gingerly behind her, but Shawn stayed there, a genuine smile planted on his face that I had the strongest urge to slap off.