Charles' POV
"Mr. Mercuer?"
"Yes."
"Someone is here to see you."
"Who is it?" God, who is training all these people? They don't even know how to operate the phone right.
"He said he was the chef for the charity gala."
"What does he want?"
"I'm not sure, sir."
"Send him up," I said before hanging up abruptly.
After five minutes, someone knocked on the door.
"It's open!"
"Mr. Mercuer?"
"Yes." I looked up from the paperwork on my desk to a tall man. "How can I help you today?"
"I was hired for the head chef position for the charity gala about a week ago."
"I was not the one that hired you I'm afraid. The food was delicious though."
"Yes. Well, a check was sent to me." He said hesitantly.
"Was the amount incorrect? I'll have it fixed right away."
"It's not that." He said. "I never showed up for the job."
"But we had food served didn't we...?" By now, I was utterly confused. Who cooked the food? If he didn't do it, who did?
"Well then, it wasn't me who made it. Unless I can be in two places at once, it wasn't me who served the food. I was stuck in traffic, there was a car crash."
"I see. Do you know who cooked in your place?"
"A chef of mine said it was a girl, she wore a white dress and had brown hair. I don't want money for something I didn't do." The chef walked forward and placed the check onto the mahogany desk.
Mystery solved.
"I thank you for your honesty." I got up and walked around my desk. I made my way to a large wine case in the corner of the room. "Please take this bottle of wine as my gratitude to you. It should be enough to compensate you for the ride here."
I gave him the bottle and he took it with both hands.
"Wow, I can't say how much I'm thankful for it. Thank you."
"Not at all."
~~~~~~
It's been a long day. I need a drink. Scotch, whiskey, vodka...or any liquor.
I took my phone out and dialed George. "Bring the car around. Oh, and I want to drive tonight."
"Yes, Sir. Which one do you want, sir? The Porsche or the Berlinetta?"
"The Berlinetta."
"Yes, Sir."
The elevator ride was quick. Everyone should've gone home by now, it's nearly midnight.
Opening the door to the front of the building, a gush of hot air attacked me. Even though it bc was barely summer, you couldn't get away from the heat.
A figure stood desperately hailing for a taxi.
"Do you need a ride, Taylor?" I asked.
Taylor turned around with a relieved look. "I thought you were a murderer."
"Not today. Having trouble hailing a cab?"
"Yeah. It seems they're avoiding me." She chuckled.
"Do you need a lift?"
"Can I?"
"Sure. George should be here any second now." Just a second after I said that, George, my chauffeur, arrived in the black Ferrari.
Joseph hopped out of the car, "Have a goodnight, Mr. Mercuer. I'll see you tomorrow morning."
"Yes. Thank you. You have a goodnight too."
"Ms. Anderson," George said turning to Taylor "have a goodnight."
"Thank you, you too."
I walked over to the passenger's door and opened it. "Let's go, shall we?"
"Did you just get out of work?" She asked.
"Yeah. I had to finish up a project. It's for the upcoming business deal."
"I see. Thank you for your effort."
Taylor and I have been friends ever since I've started working at this company. Taylor was my Dad's secretary, when I saw he wasn't treating her right for her hard work, I told her to come work for me. She tries hard and always does her best.
But like other women, she fell for me. But like other women, I rejected her feelings.
~~~~~~
It was almost one when I arrived at the bar. By then, I needed more than one drink. It has been an extremely long day. I sat down at the barstool, turning to face the bartender.
"The usual, Mr. Mercuer?"
"Yes. Keep it coming. "
I drank the glass of scotch all in one gulp. The sweet liquid burned my throat but it was smooth and enjoyable. The heat swept through my body and warmed me.
"Leave me alone! Give me another margarita!"
"Ma'am, we need you to leave. You are disrupting our business."
"I'm a customer!"
"Please leave. We do not want to call the cops."
I looked up from my glass and my eyes met with the sight of a drunk woman at the other end of the bar. Because of the dark lighting, it took me a while for me to recognize who she was.
I chuckled in amusement. She was quite something. I stood up from the barstool and walked over to the commotion.
"Ellery, I think it's time for you to leave."
"Do you know who she is, Mr. Mercuer?"
"She works for me."
"Is it possible for you to ask her to leave, Sir?"
I walk past the employee and went to Ellery. Even in her drunken state, she still looked beautiful.
Wait...beautiful? I quickly brush that thought away.
"Ellery?" I slightly slap her cheek. "I need you to wake up."
"Why?" She yelled. "Oh, it's Mr. Fancy!"
"Okay. Let's get you home."
"I don't have a home anymore! No one wants me!"
It took me at least five minutes to drag her out of the bar. That girl surely had a good grip. She nearly tore a door off its hinges.
It took me another five minutes just to put her in the car. I went back to the bar demanding plastic bags. A girl gave them to me with a terrified look. I am not taking any chances. Even though the cars are dispensable, I had just gotten this one and plan on keeping it for a few more months.
"Sir, what about her tab?" The girl asked me.
"I'll pay for it," I said as the girl handed me the receipt.
Damn. She had at least 15 tequila shots and 5 margaritas. What a sight.
When I got outside, Ellery was standing beside the car, looking confused. A look I knew too well.
I looked around for a corner, dumpster, or any thing but next to my car. "Go over there!"
She ran to where I pointed, a place next to a dumpster. She arrived just in time before she bent over and retched. I walked over, not in any hurry, hoping she'll be done by the time I got there.
I held up her hair and pat her back as she threw up over and over again.
I guess the plastic bags are useless now.