Craving Mr. Cane

Olivia I rush towards the lady behind the solid marble counter at the entrance of Cane Industries. It's almost 10 am, I only have 2 minutes left. I'm not going to salvage any remaining kind of good impression if I don't arrive on time. I angle my injured side away from the receptionist, hoping she doesn't notice the dirt marks and blood on my outfit, and throw me out of the building before I reach my interviewer. I’m not exactly sure how many wounds I have at this point. Better to just hide my whole body under the marble counter. Placing the phone down, she mutters "What?" in my general direction. Not looking at my face but lips turned up in a sneer upon my disgruntled appearance. "I have an interview with Mr. Austin?" I almost didn't want to disturb her. "10th floor." She spits out, still not looking at me. I lift my left ankle, it's still tender. It might be sprained. I scurry towards the area of the lifts. Entering, I tuck my messenger bag on my side. Wipe my sweaty palm

I am mortified. It wasn't enough that Mr. Cane saw my decaying neighborhood and dilapidated house, but I think he also caught a glimpse of Augustus being his lovely self. Why did he even drive me home? Why did he insist on it even when I said no? It's just so damn annoying. Jumping off a moving vehicle is not fun at all. Yes, I'm certainly ashamed of where I live. Who wouldn't be? We aren't homeless, but Centennial and the surrounding area are something else. I don't even want to consider that he saw Augustus. Just, no. I lean on the dirty window of the bus. The muggy air wafts through my nose, public transportation from the poorest part of Portland isn't the best. Clutching my bag closer and tucking it to my side, I see that I'm near downtown. It takes me 2 buses to get to work and a long ride if it's on my bike. Unfortunately, I need to cough up the extra dollars just for these bus rides. It's so mortifying to get a ride from Mr. Cane but he isn't aware of how that helps with

Austin Nocturn Number 20. Chopin's haunting melody perfectly portrays my mood when I step into the threshold. The classical number permeates the walls of Cane Estate. Mother lounges in the parlor with a glass of what I'm assuming is her 10th cocktail for the day. She greets me with a Bourbon Old Fashioned instead of a motherly hug or kiss. It would be too much for Mrs. Cane to show affection. Even to her son. A week is not a long enough distance. "Austin dear, was that what you wore at the Trade Fair?" she said, picking the olives from her martini. Not even sparing me a glance as she questions my appearance. "Yes, mother. It was fairly casual." "Hmm," she replies. Running her hands on a throw pillow. "Meredith is stopping by." "Yes. You mentioned earlier." "Would it hurt if you would be more enthusiastic?" She finally graces me with a disparaging look. I knew it would only be a matter of time. "And would it hurt if you actually listened? As I've said, we've broken up. She cheat

I shut the wooden door behind me. Careful to not cause any noise. I walk past the dark living room and dirty kitchen and head straight to my room. I hang my jacket carefully on the hook beside my door. Lining up my shoes under it, I rearrange the order. Place some stray shoes in their proper place. Mom must have borrowed a pair. I take my socks and carefully place them in my clothes hamper. I take my jeans and blouse off and fold them, piling them on top of my dirty clothes from the other day. I need to do laundry soon. I plop down my old chair. Grab a pen and add soap to my list of things to buy at the grocery store. Hand washing everything is time-consuming but I honestly don’t have a choice. I’m counting down the days until I receive my first pay from Cane Industries but I doubt buying a new washing machine is on top of my priority list. Maybe a repair? I added it to the list. I’m getting lightheaded. The food I bring for lunch at the office just isn’t enough. I’ve finally set as

Austin I am fuming. Who the fuck does Tommy think he is? He can't just do shit like that. I should have fired him right then and there. He's lucky that he's so valuable in the company and punching him would mean there's a possibility I'd damage my hands. These babies are my money-makers. Engineers don't craft everything with just our minds. I don't care if he's the resident Lothario in Cane Industries but he does not step a toe out of line where I'm concerned. He's one of the few that I can tolerate in the company and yes, he's like a friend to me but my assistants are off-limits. Well, I didn't care when he would hit up the ones before, but that's because they weren't important. I mean, they weren't in the middle of a task. He wasn't interrupting their work. They weren't on the clock. And I rarely saw him talking to the new ones, or rather I just didn't give a fuck. But this time it's different. I don't know when I noticed that particular dark wavy hair standing there in that