LOREEN SCOTT
"Ugh," the red-haired woman groans.
"Why?" She whimpers.
Why? Why? WHY?
Stopping abruptly, she leans against one of the pillars in the wide hall and looks around to make sure there is no one else but her.
Satisfied at the empty lot, she delivers a mild kick to the well polished surface with her red heels.
She thinks back to the shares that has just slipped through her fingers back there in the grey halls and delivers another kick, but this time, fiercely to the side of the innocent pillar
As soon as she steps into her office today, everyone will be getting fired including that incompetent secretary that her uncle had referred to her.
Losing anything now is precarious to her ambitions of winning the esteemed prize of the decade.
Speak of the devil: the incompetent woman is seen running down the stairs with her suitcase of very important documents.
"Give that to me," Loreen snarls once Alice is close.
"But, Madame," Alice stutters.
"Give it to me," it's a whisper promising dangerous consequences for disobedience.
"Right." Alice sighs, and hands it to her. The suitcase is rather wrenched from her hands and in that moment, the lady knows that she is in hot soup.
"Madame, I'm so sorry."
"You are fired. Once we walk out that door, let me not see your annoying face ever again!"
Alice freezes and only recovers when Loreen begins to walk away from her. "Madame," her breathing speeds up.
Loreen ignores her and Alice follows behind her with hurried steps, "Madame, I'm sorry. Is it about the phone call? I made it, I swear. You can ask anyone. Madame, please."
"Shut up, Alice!" Loreen snaps.
"Take it easy on the girl," a deep voice sounds behind her. It stops her in her tracks as she turns, already knowing the formidable voice of Michael Gild, the thief of her precious shares and the now occupant of her future throne.
"Mind your business."
"The poor girl..." he smirks, "... must be so miserable stuck with you."
She feels the acid slowly spreading in her chest but she keeps her cool.
Instead, she glares at him as he walks past by like he never said anything and out through the large glass doors ahead. Only then does she turn her glare to Alice who looks to the floor immediately.
Without a word, she stomps out until she is through the door and into the flashing lights of the cameras.
In her office, she pitches her purse to the desk from the door and a clatter follows as one of her figurines go down to the floor.
In trepidation and hoping as well that it did not shatter, she hurries to the side of the desk. Fortunately, it stands there, staring at her in one complete piece. She picks it, clutches it close to her heart and sets it back on its rightful place to the right side of her desk.
Subsequently, she slumps on to her chair, head lolling to the side and her shoulders sagging with tiredness.
"Alice!" She bellows out of habit and realises that Alice may not have heard her. So, she punches the ringer on the panel.
Minutes later, Alice runs in.
"Have you forgotten how to knock?"
Alice blanches. "No, Madame."
"Do the needful."
"Yes, Madame," she replies and runs back out. After a second, she knocks three times and lets herself in, looking more composed this time.
"This is better," and Loreen rolls her eyes.
"Now, take a seat."
"Me?"
Loreen Scott is just too tired of this, tired of everything and the streaks of failure this week. Sometimes, she wonders if Alice likes double checking everything she says on purpose. "Yes, you," she replies weakly.
"Madame, please -" Alice thinks she is going to be fired officially.
"Alice Walker! Shut up and take a fucking damn seat!" Loreen snaps, chest visibly rising and falling in anger.
The aforementioned makes a noise of fear and embarrassment and sits in the nearest chair available. And in the uncertainty of the situation, Alice isn't aware of her damp palms coming together, rubbing.
Silence drags on for a charged moment before Loreen finally clears her throat.
Her shrewd eyes survey Alice's neat bun, the pretty face lined with exhaustion, down to the corporate attire visible above the table.
A smile ghosts her face then as she leans back into the chair and snags a pen from the open leather cup - case by a stack of files that never leaves her desk.
"You have been doing well all these years, tirelessly working as both my assistant and my secretary," she pauses, thoughts unconsciously wandering to what Gild had said. On realization, she shoves it quickly to the back of her mind.
Half expecting Alice to cut her off with a litany of words, she goes on to say, "but…"
She is quiet again, waiting, but Alice says nothing. She steals a glance, finds her watching and loses her trail of words. "Why are you not saying anything?"
The lady blinks twice, caught off guard. "What?"
"Never mind." Loreen straightens her back in the chair.
"I have one year left to make Scott enterprise perfect for the prize of the decade. Summer has almost come to an end and winter is never a good time for getting things done."
Alice nods, unsure of where she's supposed to fit in and what has happened to the previous line of discussion.
"I have a task for you."
"I thought I was being fired?"
"Unfortunately, I still have use for you." It earns her a relieved smile from Alice as they fall back into the familiar lines of friendship.
"You scared me back there," she says breathly.
"You should be used to me by now, Alice," Loreen tells her.
"I know," Alice catches her eye, "but sometimes, I don't."
Her words coax a sigh from Loreen as she silently agrees.
"I am sorry," she apologizes. After all, a loss for her is a loss for everyone too.
"I am also sorry." Alice shakes her head in thought.
Loreen has never been good at this - the apologizing and stuff. So, she quickly shakes off the mood and settles down to business.
"Since we failed to accomplish plan B, we need another plan. Call for a meeting tomorrow with the A-board of directors and the day after it, for the B-board of directors. We really need to act fast." Her gaze flits down, finds the pen she'd snagged earlier still in her hand, rolls her eyes and drops it back.
The Scott enterprises was passed down to her by her retired uncle whom does not wish to start a family and prefers to take her as his daughter.
The Scott enterprises deal in pharmaceuticals which is the A company; and run a winery, which is the block B of the enterprise.
Now, Loreen needs to make her uncle proud. Once, they had sat on that throne. It is her turn now to get them back on it.
"How many shares do we have to buy to meet the criteria?" Loreen asks, remembering the unfortunate events of earlier.
Alice whips out the little black book that she always carries with her. "A hundred, and from really powerful co-operations," she reads out, oblivious to the growing grimace on the face of her boss, "the problem is, we have run out of such connections here in California."
"What?" Loreen rises to her feet incredulously.
"Why was I not informed of this?"
"You had more pressing issues at hand, like today."
I thought it was fifty. You puny little uh- "Ugh," an exasperated moan leaves her lips, "I work with such pathetic people," she wails.
Suddenly, an idea comes to Loreen. She slams her hand down on the table, startling Alice.
"You are going to partner with the publicity sector and reach out to other states." She watches Alice's eyes go wide with betrayal, fully aware of the reason behind it and not giving a damn.
"Get me Simeon Walton before this month ends."
"Mr. Simeon is still wrapped up in scandals and –"
"I know."
I have no choice.
Simeon is the king of co-operations; he will know what to do for her.
Alice leaves her later on, after they are done with the issues that can be handled immediately.
In the silence of her office, Loreen has her eyes to the ceilings, tightly shut. The feeling of failure drifts from nowhere, chokes her to the extent that she has to draw up for air. She thinks back to how she sat in the Konst's meeting room with all confidence, thinking that the shares would be hers because everything was done right. How wrong she was.
Has the business world become so scared of letting a woman rule them?
Her uncle, Anthony must have seen her loss on T.V by now. It depresses her further.
How disappointing.
Gathering a spur of courage, she dials his number before her courage takes flight.
"Mi hija favorita," She hears him coo in the lovely way he always does. These mere words go a long way in placating her troubled heart.
"Uncle," she replies softly.
"I saw it."
"I am sorry."
"No need to be, amor," he shushes her, "you did your best."
"I was sure I had it in my palms."
"Do not count your chicks before they are hatched, mmh," Anthony cautions his flighty niece. Not the first time he has given her such advice, but Loreen is one to take all chances despite the risks.
"Bad publicity is still publicity, is it not?"
Loreen feels warm. It is the second best thing Loreen adores in her uncle: his wisdom.
"You are right."
"What do you have in mind?"
She smiles tiredly at the question and begins to talk.
A few strikes from midnight, Loreen stumbles into her bedroom, blood buzzing with alcohol. She is not quite sure of how she got there, but she fuzzily remembers taking a glass of vodka in the living room.
And the irresistible urge for more.
She is asleep before her head hits the pillow.
Hammers are clanging in her head when she wakes up. She regrets falling into temptation yet again. Her phone buzzes with Alice's reminder for a meeting that-
"Shit!" She curses and hurriedly separates from the silk sheets.
Remind me not to drink again.
A few hours later, the silence of the room is broken by a ping of notifications from her phone. She opens Today's news and an errant headline screams out at her. Her eyes grow twice the normal size as it barely believes what they are seeing.
The accompanying photo shows her scowling face and a wild kick that speaks of fury.
"RED HAIRED DAMSEL SHOWS US HOW POWERFUL HER RED HEELS CAN KICK."
"Oh my gosh!" She yells in disbelief.
"Oh my goodness," she barely manages between choppy breaths and a hand on her chest.
She had not been alone after all.
Just then, her phone buzzes again in reminder.
One second passes. Two seconds. Suddenly, there is a blood-curdling scream heard from Room 20 in a certain apartment complex.
"Did you hear that?" A child asks his mother.
"Must be an exorcism," she replies and pulls her child away from the window.