The Living Statue

4.

I held a headphone firmly pressed against my cheek, my fingers impatiently tapping against the concrete kitchen island in my appartment. Finally, after three rings, someone on the other side of the line decided to pick up.

That morning I had searched  for a a phone number of the Northern Empire on the internet. It wasn't hard really, considering it was one of the most reputable companies in whole London, and they had their own website with all necessary contact informations such as email and phone number.

"Northern Empire on your disposal, what can I do for you," familiar voice echoed from the other side of the line. Image of the receptionist and his hawk-like nose flashed in front of my inner eye.

I cleared my throat. "Err...good day, Sir. I am Hilary Fate, calling from the Vogue magazine in order to schedule an appointment for an interview with Mr Torres," I said in my best high-pitch voice, trying to sound enthusiastic but professional at the same time.

There was a beat of silence, before Mr Hawk spoke up again, "Wait a moment, Miss. I will just put you on hold for a moment."

"Of course," I said politely but inside I was boiling. I wasn't sure if this plan was going to work. After all, Mr Torres was well known for his distaste for interviews, but hey, that's what makes it more exciting, doesn't it? Another impossible thing on my challenge list.

"Miss Fate, are you still there," Mr Hawk enquired.

I hurried to answer, "Yes. Yes, I'm here."

"I'll connect you with Mr Torres' secretary Mr Miller," he informed.

Yes! I'm almost there! I almost did it!

"That sounds marvellous," I blurted out excitedly. I wanted to say 'great' but 'marvellous' sounded more...Vogue.

I impatiently waited for Mr Hawk to connect me with timid Mr Miller. Standing up from the bar chair, holding phone firmly pressed between the cheek and the shoulder, I made my way towards the fridge. Just in time when I was pulling out a bottle of water, familiar, faint-hearted voice called out from the other side of the line.

"Miss Fate?"

I quickly released my hands of all unnecessary objects and tightly gripped onto the cell phone. "Yes," I spoke up decisively.

"I am Mr Miller, Mr Torres' private secretary. Mr Lenord, who put you through, mentioned something about an interview," he stated, but it came out more like a question.

So Mr Hawk was actually Mr Lenord. Hmm, I'll make a mental note on that one.

"Yes, Sir. I'm calling from Vogue magazine. It would be splendid if Mr Torres would allow us to make a quick interview on latest topics," I explained.

I wondered what could those 'latest topics' actually be. I'm sure Mr Torres' private life is rare as the sunshine in London, or even Lena's death glares for that matter, considering his lack of emotions and complete incapability of showing face expression of any kind. Even if he did have a private life though, I wager journalists or public in general would've known anything about it.

"Very well, Miss Fate. But now that I think about it," he paused for a second," I was certain Vogue was interested mainly in fashion figures."

"Um...yes. Yes, indeed...But the magazine had....um...spread its range of interest throughout the past few months," I explained hurridly.