This is life.

52 ➤ Annoyed

I exit my room to see Steve searching frantically in his suitcase that was open on the floor. Steven was crouched down as he unpacked unknowingly, looking for the source of the music. "I'm sorry for the music, I was looking for something and I pressed on my sister's iPod by accident somehow. I'm trying to find it underneath everything. So sorry." He says quickly. "It's fine."

He finds the device quickly, turns it off and gives me another sheepish apology. "Such a sappy song." He laughed. I shrug. "It's decent." I said quietly before walking into my office. Instead of doing work that should have been finished before we landed, I somehow spent the next few hours filling out tax forms. They could get complicated when one earns as much money as I do. The government gets to take 72.5% and it keeps going up every year because I my profits consecutively rise with each passing year. But I don't mind, considering I still get to keep quite a bit. And the biggest loophole there is, is that a large portion of my money is earned with other countries and overseas. They can't keep track of me. And even so, with a business as big as my own, the entire process takes literal months to ever conclude.

Before I know it I hear my name being called, telling me to take a secure seat to land. I do so but notice Steven is nowhere to be seen. My thoughts are answered when we land and over the ear-piercing noise I hear a muffled scream come from the bedroom. When the jet comes to a complete stop, I unstrap myself before hesitantly opening the door to the spare bedroom, grinning when I see Steven on the floor, a blue tub over the fingers on his hand upside down and his face smeared with what appeared to be hair wax. "Were you trying to do your hair while we were landing?" I couldn't help but ask. He sighs. "Yes. I was listening to music so I couldn't hear the announcement in time to take a seat." He pouts. "It's gel, too. It's worse than wax." He complained. I inhale sharply. "Tough. Go and clean yourself. Do you want me to wait for you?" I asked for the first time. "No, go ahead." He tells me. "I'll get Oliver to drive you to Houston; he'll most likely drive you back. Be ready as soon as you can because he'll be waiting."

"Okay. And again, thank you for the ride! I'll see you on the trip back." He yells as he enters the bathroom. I assume he's gone to clean himself up. I don't really know why I decided to talk more to him last night and this morning. What I can say now is that I may just be feeling lonely up to the point of talking to my employees. I should be more social, but it's difficult when practically every hand I shake is a gun aimed at my chest.

♛

Paparazzi of course attacked me with not only numerous flashes and requests but also unfiltered questions. They still try to pry into my life when I absolutely refuse to answer anybody in this field. All they do is twist your words and try to ruin your reputation for cheap money. I consider them celebrity Nazis, but let's not let anyone know I think that.

A good half hour later I reach my house, and I'm pleased to see my bags have been brought here before me, as usual. The weather is quite warm and with it only being morning I imagine the afternoon will be humid.

Promotion, as I guessed, was very embarrassing. I feel very degraded, having a cologne. It's not that I have a grudge against the item; it's the idea of having a cologne. I have no interest in it. It makes me feel tacky about myself. It's times like these where I'm seen as a falling puppet, under the control of the government, management teams-or as some would say the 'illuminati'. I know for a fact that some people think that I am under control when the truth is sometimes it is true. But it isn't a bad thing to let others take the wheel if one needs time to rest. I don't have full control of my life but no one does. A manager is beginning to seem as a more and more reasonable option with every passing day. Handling such a large scale organisation is extremely difficult.

And so those two precious hours, and the 45 minutes it took to drive there-remember to include the 45 to drive back as well- I will never get back. Oh well. Only one more task to do today then I will have the comfort of doing more work in the privacy of my home, or maybe I'll do some more taxes to distract myself. At least I'll be getting them out of the way.