21. Side Job

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Everyone in the office was pretty much gone, I finished filing some papers and had dropped some copies off at Tyler's office, which in turn had turned into a conversation about what had happened a few hours ago in the conference room.

He wanted to keep the pen idea going from where we had left off.

"...I can't sell a fucking pen."

"You can." He replied, shifting upright in his chair.

"Then how would you do it? Sell me this pen." I stated.

He nodded, taking the pen in front of me as he examined it calmly. Tyler clicked it, taking the paper in front of him and scribbling on it, like he was taking it for a test drive.

He set the pen down in front of me.

"It's the only fucking pen you'll ever need. It's the only brand of pen used in this office since it's doors opened. All them other pens? trash." He looked over at it. "Money back guaranteed."

I chuckled.

"You convinced?" He smiled, jokingly.

He got up, as did I, following him out of the office.

"Could use some work." I smirked. "But I'm convinced."

"It's years of practice. Build your confidence and everyone believes everything you say."

I grabbed my stuff.

"I just don't feel like I'm that person, you know? I'm not like you, I can't think of shit on the spot. I don't know."

"It's like riding a bike."

"Were you as bad as me?"

We walked down the elevator together.

"Fuck no. I've always been fire," he chuckled.

He walked me to my car.

I was beginning to feel comfortable enough around him.

"I don't think I'm gonna be here tomorrow. I got some legal shit I gotta take care of."

"With my dad?" I asked.

He leaned on the back end of my car.

"Yeah."

"What is it about?"

"Nothing serious."

I raised a brow, my eyes making their way to his shifted tie. It was uneven on his collar.

I lifted my hand to fix it, Tyler stopping mid sentence, surprised.

"Sorry, it was bothering me." I replied, stepping back.

"You organized huh? I noticed that."

I smiled lightly, unlocking my car.

"Yeah, I like organizing people's stuff. Last summer I went around organizing people's closets and shit as a job. It paid good," I threw my bag in the backseat.

"Oh shit, you still do that?" he asked.

"I mean, sometimes If I'm tight on cash." I leaned my back on the car. "Why?"

"Bella's been wanting to have her closet cleared out for a minute—,"

"The one we were in last time? it seemed pretty organized to me," I laughed.

"Nah. That's her primary closet. She has another one, it's all the clothes and shit she doesn't really use. It's crazy."

"I mean, I don't really have shit to do this weekend." I shrugged.

"Come over Saturday morning then." He got off of my car.

"Okay."

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