Monsieur Moreau

Chapter Two: Ruthless? Maybe Not.

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Never in my entire twenty-two years of being alive would I have ever thought to be late to an event. Let alone a job interview!

I got up, bright and early, making my morning coffee and getting out my nice business attire. It was happy and ready to go.

As soon as I left the house, I began walking down to the metro station to get onto the RER. Honestly, I would rather walk and ride the train than be stuck in traffic, making me late for my interview.

That wasn't the worst part. The worst part was that the only train that was there was packed. I couldn't be late for work so I hopped in and squished myself in between a pregnant woman and a middle-aged man with a toddler up his shoulders.

Talk about a personal bubble. The annoying little brat kept kicking his legs up in the air, making sure he let his legs brush against my head. The little brat's... whoever he was didn't even try to stop him either.

Breathe in. Breathe out. Just a couple more minutes and you'll be on your way, away from the little brat.

The train finally stopped at my destination at Charles de Gaulle. Sadly, the train didn't open up to Le Moreau Entreprise. I had to walk a few extra miles just to get there.

Screw that. I'm taking a taxi.

Outside the metro station, taxis were passing by as people were consistently trying to grab their attention.

I took a 50€ bill out and waved it in front of one of the taxi drivers that was making its way to me. I stepped closer, just in time to grab for the handle when another person grabbed it as well.

"Vous, là-bas! J'ai été là avant vous. C'est mon taxi!" I said, glaring at the deadly handsome man in front of me. "Alors, circulez." (Hey! I was here first. This is my taxi! So move along.)

The man, filled with arrogance and pride, glared back at me. "C'est le mien. J'ai un important rendez-vous obtenir. Alors, vous circule!" (It's mine. I have an important appointment to get to. So, you move!)

He pushed me out of the way and stepped into the taxi, slamming the door behind him.

I stood there, shocked. Unbelievable. Damn Parisians. The epitome of rudeness and arrogance. I shook my head. Whatever. I don't have time for this.

I ran to the nearest taxi available, not even caring if I pushed a blonde bimbo out of the way. "Vous, là-bas!" (Hey!)

I got into the taxi, slamming the door behind me. "Le Moreau Entreprise, s'il vous plâit. Appuie sur le champignon! Je suis en retard!" (Moreau Enterprise, please. Step on the gas! I am late!)

With a scared look, the taxi driver nodded and stepped on the gas, swiftly gliding over to Moreau Enterprise.

"Nous y sommes!" (Here we are!)

"Merci." I handed him the 50€ bill before stepping out of the taxi. "Garder la monnaie." (Thank you. Keep the change.)

I didn't even turn around to say goodbye to the driver. I just slammed the door and hurried towards the entrance of Moreau Enterprise.

I looked at my left wrist to check the time. 10:40AM. Putain. Je suis en retard. (Shit. I'm late.)

I pushed through the revolving doors and walked up to the front desk. "Bonjour. J'ai un rendez-vous avec Monsieur Moreau. Je m'appelle Alyssandra Walker." (Hi. I have an appointment with Mr. Moreau. My name is Alyssandra Walker.)