It Started in Paris

Chapter One: I'm Going To Paris!

Great. Another typical day at the office. If I didn't need to earn a living, I probably wouldn't be working.

I take the usual subway ride to work, dropped by my favorite coffee bar just across the street from the office, ordered a take-out of my usual (java chip latte), and made my way across the street, pushed my way around the revolving glass doors, and welcomed myself to Carter Towers.

As an assistant editor, I need to come up with new ideas and arrive at work in trend. Being fashionably efficient isn't in my boss' criteria nor job description, but it's a personal thing with Veronica. The last thing that could ruin my life is if she would join my sister and together, they could make my life a living hell. Whoopee.

And as for the new ideas, it's high time that I get a promotion. "Assistant editor" may sound really upright but my job is to make coffees, answer phone calls, and to write in a tiny part of the section where no one probably reads.

"Good morning, ma'am," Bob, our huge, African-American, bald security guard who looks more like a bouncer in a club greeted me.

"Good morning, Bob." I smiled.

I walked across the gleaming floor to the elevator.

The lobby never fails to amaze me everyday. Its black limestone flooring makes a clear reflection daily. Thanks to the maintenance crew, the floors are polished every morning. Whenever I look up, the astounding ceiling makes me feel minute. Everywhere you look, you'll see full-length windows but, outside, you'll be seeing a mirrored building. Which is why I love people-watching in the lobby when I get to work early and if I get off work before 5. I watch people stop to fix their hair, check their makeups, and kiss their reflections. On the left, a couple of cobalt blue couches form three squares and glass coffee table stood at their centers. Which is why it is also an ideal place for quick and casual meetings. On the right mimics the same arrangement of couches but in deep red.

I enter one of the three matte gold elevator doors and sipped a bit of my drink as I waited for the lift to arrive at my floor. The elevator stopped at the seventh floor and Steve McCartney enters. Ever since I started here, I've had a huge crush on him. I just hope I haven't given too much away.

"Hi," he smiled then shoved his hands in his pockets.

"Hi," I smiled back.

He looks gorgeous in his azure-colored long sleeves and white tie.

The gold metal doors opened at the tenth floor.

"See you later," he said without even looking and just like that, he was out of sight.

Finally, I arrived at the twelfth. The first thing I see when I get out of the elevator is the view overlooking the city. The whole building is made of one-way mirrors, I think. When I first had my tour around the building, I've observed that the structure of the edifice was a half circle.

I walked on the zaffre-colored carpeted hall to the left and pushed the glass doors to my usual working space which was a tiny desk next to Veronica.

Why, of all people, should I be in the same stall with her?

"Good morning, Lauren." In emerald ruffled top, white slacks and purple pumps, Veronica smirked as she rotated her Aeron chair to my direction.