THE AGREEMENT | #1

CH 1. THE NAKED BLONDE

This was really happening, we were finally here. New York—concrete jungle and all that—I could feel it, the energy crackling around us. It was exhilarating to simply stand amongst it. Swarms of strangers rushed along the chockablock streets; hailing taxis, crossing roads and dodging traffic. I couldn't see myself keeping up with their practiced pace of daily commute. Scaling the city's skyline I allowed my eyes to once again linger on our new apartment building.

The building itself stood twenty floors high, with massive crystalline window panels lining the exterior. Suggesting both architectural and design brilliance throughout. The interior dripped with modern sleek and elegance. From the signature charm that lingered on every subtle detail, I knew this was another one of Mr Quinn's masterpieces. Whether it was classical or modern and with the times, the man could capture perfection and trap it within the solidified walls of a building.

"Bean! Hello. Earth to Bean, wanna give me a hand with the doors? Charlie!" Blake's impatient nudging, against my ribcage, snapped me from my intense admiration of our new home. The bastard had at some point designated to superintend our first big move into adulthood. Smiling in awe I returned to reality, opening one of two large glass doors and bracing it with my backside, I awkwardly sank low enough to retrieve one of the boxes labeled 'BLAKE'S SHIT ' up off the pavement. All in all Blake and I were well mannered—brought up with admirable Campbell morals—however, on the odd occasion, we often forgot or rather stowed our grace and resorted to bluntness.

"Well if you would have spared at least the doorman, when rounding up the entire building's staff to help us move in, then you'd have someone to get the door for you; your highness." I pointed out, accompanied by a half-arsed curtsy.

"Did I give you permission to address me peasant? Lower your eyes and beg for forgiveness, I may consider overlooking this insolence." Chuckling, I struggled to bow a second time with the load cradled in my arms. "Much better." He huffed in an exaggerated, wealthy tone. Snorting out a mock laugh, he rolled his baby blue eyes, then proceeded to march into the lobby. Shaking my head with amusement, I rearranged the box in my small arms.

I'd first met Blake in first grade, elementary school. We'd been planting bean plants in class, Mrs Craft had partitioned for our early introduction to acquiring a green thumb, I unfortunately couldn't seem to adopt the natural skills required to plant beans. Watching my classmates' bean plants sprout, on the day we were to unveil them to other classes, when mine remained a terracotta pot filled with dirt and bean pips I began to cry. Full blown tears. Blake had first noticed me then, coming to my rescue he tore a piece of paper out of his sketch book and proceeded to write both our names on it. Sticking the tag he'd crafted with bright crayons on the front of his pot, he dragged me to his table as students made their rounds.

My best friend, my big brother...my family. Blake and the Campbell's were my second chance at life. I saw no difference between them and my late parents, nor would I ever regard them as anything less. Allowing the door to swing shut, I fluidly stepped into the building and made my way across the white-veined marble floors, elbowing the call button for the elevator I awaited the carts descent. Blake's parents had bought him one of two apartments on the twentieth floor, as a graduation present, their crazy way of congratulating him on his achievements. Deep down I was positive this was Beth and Richi's way of giving us both a present. They were always careful about offending me when it came to support, financially. I knew it made them uncomfortable whenever I refused their extravagant gifts, but it never felt right to take advantage of their generosity.

Initially Blake wasn't all that keen on leaving Seattle; if it hadn't of been for my callback from Quinn Industries Inc—an internationally renowned enterprise that holds impressive stakes in countless luxury and recreational industries—he'd have refused the gift outright and rallied for a new gallery back home. Applying for the internship at Quinn Industries had been a long shot, I wasn't interested in the shares the company held in luxury hotels and high end night clubs globally, but rather the architectural design side of things. To work with some of the biggest names and talent, that was my dream. To tell my story through the art of design and construction, to build something lasting. From a young age I'd found myself seeking a home, a place to forget the pain of my loss and in doing so I found a purpose. A passion that fuels my goals.