ever since new york || h.s.

four

I don't think I've ever lived a week as slow as the one that I spent counting down the hours until my next interview with Harry.

I still hadn't told anyone about the Saturday I spent, talking to the one person that everybody wanted to get a word out of over expensive champagne and delectable pasta, even though it was hard. I had to bite my tongue so many times that I was sure I was going to have permanent indentations the size of my front teeth stuck there forever.

Pollock hadn't noticed that his Styles file was missing yet and it was as if the whole thing had blown over within our office, as if we had permanently checked out of the case all together even though the print stands were covered in stories about higher ups in companies and politics, complaining about how annoying it was to have an author become popular just for talking down upon them. I wanted to ask somebody why we were trading in a good story for the safekeeping of Pollock's ego, but I didn't want to sound like I had become invested in it. I hadn't, not really. I was just excited to finally have a good story developing. That was all.

Saturday came without a word from Harry so I just sat around all day in my red skirt, waiting to hear the obnoxious sound of the car horn from outside my window. I managed to get my story for the next week done during the space of free time though, one about an oncoming drought sweeping across the state, short and sweet and almost painfully boring to write. I was just doing my final glance over it when I heard the car honk.

Charles was waiting in front of the car like he had been last time, his hat in his hands, just waiting for me to shuffle my way downstairs. I brought my briefcase with me again, the same materials enclosed inside as last time, but this time without any of Pollock's work. It wouldn't help me, wouldn't even provide security anymore because after last week, I knew I was better than him for sure. I hadn't gotten a lot of information, but it was certainly more than what he'd done.

"Good evening, Miss Chambers," Charles said once I reached him, motioning for me to get into a this time empty car.

"Where's Harry?" I asked once he'd gotten into the driver's seat. He turned around, a lazy grin covering the bottom half of his face as if there were secrets behind it that just weren't ready to come out yet.

"I'm taking you to him."

During the ride to wherever we were going, I decided to busy myself by going over the portions of Harry's essays that I had underlined, the ones that I found particularly interesting and the ones that seemed a bit strange to me. I didn't understand how he could have so much money but talk about classism and the greed in the nation like he didn't have it. I didn't understand how he could have such intense opinions while being so mild-mannered and reclusive. I didn't understand him so far at all and I really hoped that he would be able to change that for me.

It wasn't that long before the car was stopping in front of a big, brick building that had obviously been painted white to look more modern. There were big windows towards the top that had to be at least ten stories up with light pouring out of them. It was an office space, one of the newer ones that were being added all over the place now that the war was over and people had enough money to rebuild their businesses and companies. Charles pointed me toward a doorman that was standing in front of the turnstile, instructing me to tell him my name so he would know where to take me.

The doorman led me into the building that was all high ceilings and porcelain tiled floor and walls with orange wallpaper. The furniture scattered all over the place looked expensive and clean like none of it had ever been used before.

The first door on the right was where I ended up, no stairs or elevators involved. It was tall, way over my head, with gold numbers on it that read '017.' It looked so stiffly professional that I was almost afraid to knock on it, unsure if that would be too improper, like my knuckles would somehow damage the mahogany of it.