Elliot James

04.

"Hello? Elliot speaking," stifling a yawn, she tried to drag her body out of her comfortable bed, "who am I speaking to?"

"Always the polite, aren't we?" His voice is filled with mockery and she grinds her teeth together, realization dawning on her.

"YOU. Why are you calling me?" She briskly asks, wishing the conversation to be over. If he didn't get on with whatever he wishes to say, she was contemplating on cutting the call and falling back to sleep. Her sleep was far important than hearing him chit chat about non sense.

"And always the kindest towards me. You wound me, Elli." She can picture him, his right hand fisted over his chest, his lips pouting, and his long lashes drooping. As soon as his face entered her mind, she closes her eyes, shaking her head violently before continuing.

"What did you just call me?" He called her Elli.

"I said, Elliot, get your ass out of your bed, and come to the headquarters. You've got the job."

"What?" That was all she could mutter, her feets finally untangled from the comforter. She wasn't quite sure if she heard him correct. There were a million questions in her head, like how on earth would he know she was still in bed, her hair a birds nest. And why on earth was he telling her about her landing the job. It may have been him who interviewed her, but he clearly wasn't her boss.

"What do you mean by what? On top of having a boy name, are you part deaf too?" Again. That mockery.

She couldn't stand him any longer. He was just too much. Too egoistic. Too giddy. Too happy.

Just too much for her to handle.

"Stop calling me deaf. And stop calling me, period." His response is cut off, as her fingers hover over the end button ever after seconds of doing what she did.

Heading towards her en-suite, she tries to control her breathing and fails miserably. The $90 dollar she paid for the yoga and medication kit was useless and she felt angry at herself for thinking it'd work.

Stupid stupid Elliot.

Again her phone rings and without a glance towards the caller ID she picks it up.

"Hell- "

"Who do you think you're to cut me off?" His voice sounds agitated, as if he is a kid whose candy has been taking away. And at that moment she really wished she checked the caller ID, the onset of a migraine not so far away. "Is there no such thing as a 'thank you' in your dictionary? After all I'm the one who got you this job!"

"Um, you didn't get me this job. Mr. Keller did. And I'd thank him, once I reach the office."

Once you let me get ready, that is.

She mutters under her breath but from the outburst of his laughter echoing through the static, she was sure he heard it all.

"Who did you think convinced Mr. Keller?"

"Excuse me?" It was getting harder and harder to not get his jabs across to her, and she was hating every second of the phone call for being so agitated and worked up over something so small.

That's exactly what he wants from you, chill out. Chill the hell out. She reminded herself like a mantra and it stuck with her.

"I'll more like squeeze you, if you don't mind."

One.

Two.

Three.

"Hello, Daniel Greene. First of all, stop invading my privacy. Second of all, if you're implying that I got this job because of you, then I don't want it. I don't need it. You can keep the vacancy, and the blonde by your side. Good day." There she goes, off like a ticking bomb.

Elliot has never felt triumph before. And if it was what she was feeling at that moment, she loved it. She loved  every second of it, until she realized she doesn't  have a job, a potential one even and her chances of making excuses on not paying rent we're drying up like a river.

Crap.

And then an alert goes on her phone, and she picks it up. Tugging her toothbrush in her mouth, she reads it over and over again. And can't help but smile to herself.

"Hey, I'm really sorry. That was outline. I didn't offer you the job, my uncle really did like your work and you got it fare and square. So put our differences aside and come check out your work place?"

His stalker-y means no bound, that's for sure.

I mean, I'll be giving you a personal tour around the place,  myself  of course. You're welcome.

And then she groans. And kept on it for five more minutes.

🐢
Picture of Elliot James.
Our sweet sweet Elli.