When you are plotting to killâ or save someone, it's all about those first few moments when you confront them. You have to decide how you are going to approach the subject of said betrayal. Did they hurt you, or did someone hurt said person who still may or may not have betrayed you?... Clearly, the entire thing was confusing to the point where my sentences didn't even make sense in my own mind. But to be fair, I was running on three hours of sleep.
Secrets. That was my current problem. How did you start a conversation with someone when you weren't sure if they were hurt, or if they were doing the hurting? And why was everyone acting so dodgy?!? I wasn't one for assuming I was betrayed without proof or clues. But... things had been spiraling ever since Laurence Royal stole my models the day before. Had it really been a day?
I threw open the door before the car had even come to a full stop. Running on adrenaline and anger, I bolted up the stairs towards Susan's apartment, ignoring Tate's protests that I stop for a moment and try to calm down. I would not calm down. I wanted answers and I was going to get them. Screw second guessing.
I had enough common sense to take in a deep breath before knocking on her front door. I glared at the deep green door, staring down the peephole, hoping that she was sick. Hoping that it was just a poorly timed text. Hoping that she was sick enough to send me an incompetently structured text.
I heard a shuffle on the other side of the door before spotting a shadow under the crack. Then there was a long silence. No doubt Susan was taking in my glare, through the fishbowl view that the peephole caused.
"Susan, open the door," I said as the shadow retreated.
"What are you doing here Allie?" Susan replied, her voice uneasy on the other side of the door.
I crossed my arms. "I need to talk to you. Open the door please."
"I'm contagious," she insisted.
I gritted my teeth, hearing the lie in her tone. "I really don't care. Open the door."
There was a pause filled with uneasy breathing. "Can we just talk when I feel better?"
"It'll be too late by then. There's a problem and I need you to open the door."
"...Okay, just... don't freak out."
Then she opened the door, and there was ZERO chance I wasn't going to freak out.
"What the hell Susan!?!" I gasped. Rage was no longer under control after an hour of beating it into submission through a punching bag. It was back, stronger than it had been in years, making it almost impossible to see anything other than red. My hands shook at my sides.
Several bruises covered Susan's face, poorly hidden behind a layer of red hair that she had pushed in front of her cheeks. She looked down and away, tears brimming to the surface. "Allie, I'm sorry I lied..." Her voice cracked. "I just..." She winced, touching her cheek gingerly.
"Who?" I breathed.
"Who what?" Susan asked as I walked into her apartment. I stopped in the doorway, a new level of anger surging through me. It was getting to unstable levels. Her apartment had been ransacked.
"Who hurt you?" My voice was steady, clear, and cold as I took in the shattered picture frames, pillows that had been torn apart, and broken furniture. My tone was scary level calm. The kind of calm that I only got before I set something on fire. "Who did this to your apartment?"
Susan shifted from foot to foot, watching me take in her apartment. "It doesn't matter."
I turned to look at her. "Of course it matters! I need to know who I am going to kill!"
She flinched. I lowered my voice. "Sorry." Rocking back on my heels, I shoved my fingers into my pockets to keep myself from adding more damage to the room.
Susan looked over the living room, eyes distant. "Just tell me what happened," I urged.
She blinked and jumped to action, suddenly itching to move. To avoid the conversation. "Do you want something to drink? I think... I have tea... Or coffee?" I could see the panic on her face, the fear that sent her hands shaking.
I stopped her, hands falling gently on her shoulders. "Susan, breathe."
The sudden touch sent her melting under my touch, breaking down into sobs. I carefully wrapped my arms around her as she cried. She shook, face quickly covering my blouse in tears.
"I don't know who it was..." she said between broken sobs. "I answered the door and..." She took in a deep gasping breath. "I got thrown in the closet..." She moved out of my arms and rubbed at her eyes. "I just broke out an hour ago." Susan tugged on a strand of her curly red hair. "The drive with the pictures was gone."
My heart squeezed tight. All our work had vanished. The pictures a mere memory.
I walked into the kitchen and quickly wrapped ice into a washcloth for her face.
Susan slumped to the ground in the middle of the living room. "I'm so sorry. I know I screwed up..." She pulled her knees up to her chest, reminding me of just how young she was. She was twenty and gotten mugged in her own home. Because of me, my brain screamed. This was my fault. Susan was caught in the crossfire as someone was trying to destroy me. But why?
"I understand if you want me to quit..."
I crouched down before her, waiting until she looked me in the eye. "You're right. You really shouldn't be my assistant anymore."
Her eyes went wide, shock filling her face. "Oh, okay. Yeah." She didn't think I'd be cold enough to encourage her out of her job when she offered to quit.
And she was right. I wasn't. "As soon as you get checked out by a doctor, and we get you new locks, guards, and a sketch artist so I know exactly who's head I am shoving into a guillotine, you are moving into the designing department." I handed her the makeshift ice pack.
Susan rubbed her eyes, staring up at me bewildered as she gingerly placed the pack to her left cheek. "What?"
I shrugged. "I had a chance to look at your designs last night. They're really good. Maybe less hats, but otherwise, good." I offered what I hoped was an encouraging smile, and not one riddled with pain and guilt. "I know it was hard to wait for me to take a look, but you've got some good ideas."
She slumped further onto the floor, suddenly stunned. She threw her arm over her eyes. "Oh my gosh! I... Wow... Thank you so much!" It took her a moment to collect herself, hiding behind her arm, overwhelmed and exhausted.
I stood to my feet, needing to hurt something. Itching to burn down the world. "I'm going to call the police."
Susan scrambled after me. "No, that's okay."
I paused and turned to look at her, several pieces falling into place. "You know who was here, don't you." It wasn't a question. "You knew who the person was. That's why you opened the door."
She looked down, embarrassed. "I don't know who it was... he was just... cute so I opened the door." Her face was red. "It was so stupid. And I don't want to tell the police about it."
I sighed, suddenly relieved that she wasn't involved. "I don't care how cute he was, I am calling the police and we are going to find his ass!" She jumped back, startled by my frustrated tone, but nodded quickly in agreement. "Was there anything off about him?"
Susan motioned towards the couch. "He dropped a business card over there."
I reached down and stared at the small glistening item next to the couch, which was now just feathers and ripped upholstery. Picking up the card, I wiped several shards of glass from its surface and growled a set of swearwords under my breath, trying to keep myself from turning into a She-Hulk when I saw what company the intruder worked for.
Laurence Royal Fashion
I am going to kill him and every one of his idiot employees! I imagined setting fire to his building, watching as it burnt to ash, and laughing loudly, head thrown back with ZERO remorse as I ran the ash over my face like war paint... Perhaps I really need to see a therapist.
Laurence Royal would pay for what he had done. He had sniped my models, destroyed my office, and now he had hurt Susan and stole my photoshoot pictures.
Stomping across the living room, I made a beeline for a baseball bat in the corner. "I'm going to borrow this," I said as I lifted the aluminum bat off the ground and smacked it against my palm, gripping it tightly.
Susan eyed the bat, warily. "Um... okay?"
I narrowed my eyes as I stared down at the business card I had plucked out of the glass. "I think it's time I had a chat with Laurence Royal."
...
I had just enough patience to call the police and wait for them to arrive before bolting down the stairs, hiding my intentions. Which was to go beat a human-shaped piñata to death when I walked out of Susan's apartment.
I walked half a block, my hair blowing wildly in the wind, before I realized I had completely ditched my ride. I paused, standing in the middle of the sidewalk holding a bat, with a look of rage on my face. See, this right here is why people are afraid of you Allie.
But Tate seemed to have read my mind, pulling the sleek black car up next to the curb a few feet from where I stood as I tried to decide if I was just going to walk the entire way to Laurence Royal's office.
"Wow..." Tate said as he rolled down the window. "You look like you are on a murder path."
"If you don't want to watch me terrorize someone, I suggest you keep driving," I muttered staring straight ahead as I began walking again.
"I'm hired to drive, not to judge," Tate replied.
I took in an unsteady breath, still seeing too much red to think properly. "That has never once stopped you from sharing your opinion."
"Doesn't mean I won't drive you there."
I gripped the bat tighter, torn between wanting to get to Laurence's office faster, and not wanting Tate to see the girl with anger management problems that would undoubtedly lead to me getting arrested. "I'll pass on the ride."
"Then I'll just have to follow you in the car. I'm on the clock you know."
I glared at Tate through the window. "Don't follow me in the car."
"Fine." The car suddenly stopped, the hazards flipped on being rewarded by several honks as Tate abandoned the car on the side of the road and jogged up onto the sidewalk.
He stopped in front of me, dark brown hair falling into his face. Dark eyes taking me in. "I'll walk with you then."
I stared from Tate to the car, shocked. "You can't just leave the car there!"
His eyes remained steady on mine as he shrugged. "It's not going anywhere." He ran his fingers through his hair, pushing his brown locks back out of his face, "So where are we going?"
I stared back at the car. "What about the plant? Don't you care about the plant!?!"
He crossed his arms, raising a brow. "Since when have you cared about Uggo? What's really the problem here?"
"Can't it just be the plant?" I asked, irritated by the terrible excuses I had decided to land on.
He shook his head, a sad smile framing his lips. "Although I appreciate your sudden concern for my child plant... I think it's better that you tell me why you are walking down the sidewalk with a bat."
I sighed. "I don't want to get in the car because I don't want you to be a witness to a crime I am going to commit."
He took a step closer, blocking the wind. "Since when do you care what I think?"
I ignored the warmth that radiated off of him. The spark of curiosity in his eyes. The way I wanted to step closer and run away all at the same time. He made me feel a set of contradictions. Both terrifying. "I don't care what you think," I murmured, taking a step closer to him against my better judgment.
"You are a terrible liar," he said, mirroring me and taking a step closer.
I rolled my eyes, dodging the obvious. "First rule of committing a crime is making sure you don't have any witnesses. You'd crack so fast. And I already have to kill someone today. Don't feel like adding you to the list."
Tate took another step until we were staring at each other, a breath apart. "I don't snitch."
"Why should I believe you?" I pressed. "You don't know what darkness is. You just smile and make jokes all the time."
A dark expression settled across his face. "Just because I'm all sunshine and rainbows on the surface doesn't mean I don't know what it's like to get burned." He leaned forward, staring me down. "I've seen some terrible stuff. You don't get to have a monopoly on bad thingsâ"
A loud honk cut through our conversation, reminding me that we were in the middle of a busy street, staring each other down while a car sat abandoned on the side of the road. "Are you going to answer my question, and tell me why you are walking down the street with a bat, or are you going to keep throwing out excuses using Uggo as a patsy and attacking my personality type?"
I sighed, gripping the bat tightly, deciding to share the truth. "Someone broke into Susan's house and hurt her. So now I'm heading to Laurence Royal's office to beat the shit out of him."
I watched Tate's face, waiting to see his reaction. Hoping for a clue as to what happened between them. "Is she okay?" he asked, his eyes full of concern.
"No." I shook my head, voice breaking on the word, betraying my desire to look like I was calm. "And it's my fault!"
Rage and guilt battled for control. I forced rage to win. I was more comfortable with it. Guilt choked you to death. So did rage, but at least it made you feel powerful on the way down.
"None of this is your fault," Tate replied, voice soft. The tenderness in his voice stung. I didn't deserve it.
I threw my hands into the air. Tate leaned back slightly, avoiding the bat that swung through the air with my arm flail. "Of course it is! She works for me! And the same person who did this, sabotaged my shoot, ransacked my office and left a threatening note as a calling card on my office wall!" I gripped the bat so tight that my fingers turned white, hoping to keep my hands from shaking. Hoping to look angry instead of heartbroken. People were getting hurt and it was my fault. I looked out at the street, refusing to make eye contact with Tate who watched my phoenix fire level rage breakdown, silently.
"People are getting caught in the crossfire of a stupid fashion war that's utterly pointless! If people get hurt, WHATS THE POINT OF MAKING THINGS!" I let out a breath through clenched teeth, trying to calm down. My vision had become spotty, heart hammering wildly.
Breathe Allie, breathe!
"I just wanted to make clothes..." I swallowed. "But all this extra crap is making me rethink every life choice that brought me here." I waved my hands around weakly, finally looking back up at Tate. "Hence why I have a hit out on Laurence Royal."
Tate stated at me for a long moment. Searching my eyes, processing my words. Then when I was just beginning to wonder if he thought I was absolutely mad, he nodded. "Okay."
Tate walked back towards the car. "Let's go."
I stared at him, confused. Of all the responses I had expected, with most of them including jokes, breaking into song, or declaring he was hungry, this was not on the list.
He pulled the front seat passengers door open.
"You coming? Or are you going to walk all the way to your future target?" he asked, shooting me a dark grin over his shoulder. "Let's take care of Laurence Royal."
I smiled, utterly drawn to the devilish grin that came over Tate's face. Surprised by his unfazed response to my bent towards a violent response. I slipped into the car after him, utterly surprised that I was about to go take down my fashion nemesis with my karaoke-loving driver.
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Thank you for reading chapter eleven! I hope you are enjoying the story! Or are at least curious to see where it goes!
UPDATE DAYS - A NEW CHAPTER EVERY FRIDAY!
How will Allie's confrontation with Laurence Royal go? Will she actually use the bat? Will Allie go to jail?
What is Laurence Royal like?
Did Susan ask Tate out? Did he say yes? Is there something between them?
Tate said that Allie doesn't have a monopoly on bad things. Did something happen in Tate's past?
CHAPTER QUESTION - Would you ever take revenge?