SPYING ON THE BILLIONAIRE

“You are the only one I’d ever love, yeah you, if it’s not you it’s not anyone . . . .” Mary reached out her hand and turned off her phone alarm before Justin Bieber could sing the next line. She knew if she let him, then his sweet voice would just send her back to sleep – and then what would be the use of the alarm.

     It was a new day, new week, yet there was no new excitement. She still had her old problems. Her rent was going to be due next month, her on again, off again car had crash for what she thought was the final time, even her mechanic had asked her to go get a new one – and she was down to her last ten dollars. She honestly couldn’t even afford to pay for her own lunch if she decided to eat out with colleagues. Her only saving grace was that she had her house stocked with food when she got her last paycheck. So now, she needed to get home everyday before she could eat.

    “I so don’t blame all the forty year olds living in their parents basement.” She said to no one in particular as she dragged her self up, and sticking some paste on her brush, began the routine chore of preparing for work.

     She was also down to her last decent clothe, Mary thought with a dry smile as she scanned through her wardrobe looking for something acceptable. She finally settled on a pinstripe grey suit and peach camisole.

     She stared at herself in the mirror – her hair needed a professional hairdresser’s touch, and her clothes were a little worn, but overall, she could pass. It was not as though she worked in an A list place after all.

    “Ms. Wilberforce? . . . . Ms. Mary Wilberforce” She heard her landlord calling in his annoying whiny voice, and Mary thought of keeping still and pretending he wasn’t around. Hopefully, he was going to walk away if he didn’t get any response – but then she was already running late for work, and her boss was a bitch when it came to lateness.

    “Hello Mr. Walter.” She answered, opening her door and stepping out. He better see that she’s ready for work already and take a hint! Mr. Walter loved long stories and hated to go straight to the point.

   “Ms. Mary –” He smiled genially for a full minute before he started speaking. “You are a very pretty girl – real pretty, and you are young too. How old are you twenty something? Twenty five?”

    “Nineteen.” Mary snapped. It was none of his business anyway.

     “Nineteen!” He gave her a once over in a way that was not sexual, but a mere appraisal. “You’re still young. There’s nothing wrong with going back to stay with your parents if you can no longer afford to pay rent.”

    “Yes, I can afford to pay rent Sir. I’d pay it when it’s due – I’m late for work! I’ve got to go.” She had already locked her door while he spoke, and now, side stepping him, she dashed out of her apartment and off to face another day.

      Trust Daily, the newspaper she worked for was a very small low budget establishment. Not exactly the big dreams she had as a little girl, but since she could not attend college yet, working for the Trust was the closest she came to living her dreams as a journalist. Her dreams were the only thing keeping her from throwing in the towel and going back to her parents house in Ohio.

    “Hi Patty.” She smiled at the very friendly HR as she strolled in.

     “Hey pretty.” Patricia smiled back, not bothering to check the time she got in. The genial forty something woman had been trying to convince Mary that she was ‘very lovely’ Mary was having a hard time believing it.

The rest of the staff – the female staff at least, were standing in the lobby, enthralled by whatever it was they were watching on TV. Mary had already started walking by when she stopped. It was Adam Scott!!! A journalist was interviewing him.

Handsome, billionaire playboy, Adam Scott. The most eligible bachelor in the whole country. Mysterious too! She had never had of a journalist who succeeded in interviewing him. A quick scan through G****e showed her no one had succeeded in getting an interview from him. And here he was, being interviewed by – Chanel’s television?

    For some unknown reason, Mary felt her heart quicken as heat rose to her cheeks, the tell tale sign of a blush. Now she knew why it was only the women at the lobby. Adam Scott was every woman’s heartthrob – even the married ones. Emma McCarthy who was married with two teenage kids stood by her left clutching her hands to her boobs and smiling blissfully as she stared at the beautiful picture of the mysterious Billionaire.

      The station had probably taken a commercial break, because they just had his picture frozen on the screen, but they were back in a minute, and Mary was surprised about how disappointed she was to realize it was not a life interview.

    The dark haired talk show host was not interviewing Adam Scott, she was interviewing his former PA. Disappointed, Mary turned to walk off to her cubicle, dragging her feet in exaggerated protest.

    Philippa laughed. “What! You thought we got lucky? That he had finally granted an interview?”

     Mary laughed back. “Is that too much to ask for! At least if we can’t share his life with him, he should give us a glimpse of it.”

    “I don’t care about interviews though – I’d rather share the life,” Taylor, the lady who shared cubicle with her chipped in. They were both of the same age, similar goal – but different dreams. “Oh I don’t mind sharing all that money, all that wealth, such riches! Hell I’d own several yachts, I’d –”

    “Earth to Taylor.” Mary waved a finger in front of her friend, laughing. “Let me know when you’re done building castles in the air. I on the other hand would rather share the life – his life. Just think of those hands on you, loving you, showing you how to be a woman. A real woman with fierce passion, with –”

    “Now who’s building castles in the air?” Taylor accused laughingly. “Like it or not, the both of us would never get to meet Adam Scott despite the fact that we both live in New York. He lives in the rich side of the city, and we – we live in the back water part –”

    “And work in a back water establishment.” Mary added. It was not the kind of thing she would have said normally, but she was feeling reckless. Something about looking at the midnight blue eyes of Adam Scott had quickened her heartbeat, made her feel more alive.

    They had both abandoned the ‘not interview' at the lobby and we’re now walking towards their cubicle. “Honestly, sometimes I wonder why I keep staying here. I should probably go to college like my parents want – or just go back home! What kind of exposure am I going to get working here!”

     It wasn’t exactly a question, but Taylor replied anyway, trying to pacify her sometimes unrealistic friend. “It’s not exactly that bad May . . . You could get working experience here, and then even without a college degree, you can get a job at a bigger place.”

    “I know! But what kind of experience would I get here anyway? Nothing ever happens. No real interview, no sales, we don’t even get advertisements anymore. And even if we did, I’d pity the client. What good are any adverts if no one is going to buy the papers!”

    It was only when Mary was done with her lengthy rant that she turned around to see her friend was no longer walking beside her, listening. It was then she saw who was listening – her boss!

    The owner of the establishment stood in front of her, watching her with barely controlled rage written on his face. Beside him stood a middle aged man she had never seen before. Mary new she had gotten herself into real trouble. She stood transfixed, trying to remember how bad her rant was, what she had said, or left unsaid.

   “There is no need then Mr. Coleman – as this lovely young lady informed me unawares,” the middle aged man said to her boss. “What’s the use of placing an advert in a paper no one reads.” He turned and walked out, patting Mary awkwardly at the back with a stiff smile as he passed her, and only then did Mary realize the enormity of what she had done. She had caused the Trust to lose their first advert in almost a year.

       “Perhaps you should do yourself a favor and clear out your desk right away.” Coleman bit out, the muscles in his cheek bulging, his eyes red. “You know what there is no need doing! There is no need paying you salary every month when you bring absolutely no value to this establishment. You should probably go get yourself a college degree, maybe there, they’d teach you how to comport yourself at work.”

      He turned around and walked off to his office before Mary could compose herself enough to reply. She rushed off to her desk, and resting her head on her desk, she let the tears that already burned her eyes flow freely.

    How easily it was not to appreciate what one had until the person lost it! Now she had nothing! No job, no car, and in a few weeks, no house. She had nothing left but to crawl back to her parents who lived in a little village in Ohio. They’d want her to go the city college, or to take up work at her father’s grocery store.

    What then would happen to all her dreams! Her dreams of mingling with the creame de la creame, of interviewing all the big names in the entertainment industry, her dreams of meeting someone extremely handsome, certainly above average, rich and politically powerful –” unwittingly, Adam Scott came to mind. His dark unfathomable gaze, well sculpted face so exquisite, it was painful to look at him. That full lower lip, curved up in a smirk as though he knew all the world’s secrets and may just tell if –

     Mary jacked up as a thought struck her! “Adam Scott,” she said softly to herself, her tears long dried. “Adam Scott,” she repeated, tripping over herself as she tried to get to her boss’s office as fast as possible.

    “What’s the matter Mary?” Coleman snapped as soon as Mary appeared in front of his door way.

   “Mr. Coleman, first I want to apologize for my conduct earlier today. It was not only ungrateful, but highly professional.”

    Coleman had bent his head over his laptop, typing away. Maybe this was a good sign. Her boss usually acted tough, but Mary knew underneath all the sternness, he had a kind heart. Maybe he was considering a pardon.

    He lifted his face, and Mary saw no signs of forgiveness in the steel grey eyes that stared back at her. “Your apology is accepted. You would still be required to clear out your desk today as this company has no more need for you.”

    Mary felt the tears threaten her eyes again. “Let me make it up to you – to the company. Please! I don’t want to go back to my parent’s house.”

   The last part was said in barely a whisper, and Coleman felt for the young lady standing in front of him, childish tears gathering at the corner of her eyes, and her lower lip trembling. Perhaps this was how his Emma would look at this age, young, reckless, but without the responsibility to take the consequences of her actions. “I’m sorry Mary. You should have thought of that when you discouraged my client –”

   “But what if I make it up!”

   “How? You’d pay ten thousand dollars for the advert Mr. Shaw wanted to place?”

   Mary stared at her feet a bit. Even she had to admit it was very far fetched. “I’d interview Adam Scott.