JEFFERY let go of the boy who ran off.
"Come with me," Mr Maguire, a middle aged man who had casual wear and sneakers, had in his hands a tennis bat and in his other hand his bag. Charlotte took hold of his bag and walked behind him.
"A call came in this morning; one Mr Cross of Jameson Limited called to fix a meeting with you. Again, I received an email concerning the same. There's been news of a demolition sir." Charlotte said in a breath; she had wanted to tell Mr. Maguire all morning, but his phone was not going through.
"Calm down, young lady; they called my phone as well." Cole eyed her, who was sweating profusely as she stood before him.
"Is the air condition bad?" He asked, scanning her closely. She held both hands behind her back and shook her head.
"No sir," She sniffed using the back of her palm to wipe the sweat off her forehead.
"Ignore those buffalos, I'll handle them myself. Now, get back to work."
"Yes, sir," She turned to leave.
"Wait-"
Charlotte paused.
"Charlotte what happened the other day?" Mr Maquire asked and Charlotte flinched.
"What? What other day?"
"You know, that night I asked my nephew to pick you up." He said and Charlotte's eyebrows furrowed. "My Nephew says he could not find you when he drove down. He had some issues with the car and was not able to make it on time. Though he was late, he still made it there but you weren't there." Mr Maguire explained.
"He could not find me?" Charlotte almost got angry. The fact that she waited in the rain till it was almost midnight while waiting for his stupid nephew made her blood boil.
And more than that, she mistook another man for him and things happened.
Things she wished never happened.
She was angry but pretended to be fine and said,
"I took the night bus." Charlotte responded, with calm breaths and walked away.
Mr Maguire simply watched and shook his head, not knowing what was occupying her mind.
***
Wesley had scheduled the meeting with the headstrong games shop owner at an exquisite restaurant at the heart of the City.
He sat with his legs crossed, shaking his foot impatiently. He rolled his sleeves from his left-hand ankle to check the time; it was some minutes past 9:00 am.
The restaurant had glass walls that you could see the outside surroundings, from the top floor, Wesley could see the rest of the City. He'd been waiting.
Cross walked in.
"What is it Cross?" Wesley asked with his jaw clenched.
"I have bad news boss," Cross replied. He grabbed a bottle of water and poured the contents into his mouth, gulping. He'd been calling Mr Maguire's Arcade and had gotten no response. Days ago, he reached out, and the apprentice there gave a positive response, but now she has refused to take her calls. Even Mr Maguire responded positively to the invitation. He furrowed his brows, waiting for Wesley to give him a sign to drop the bomb.
He's not the type to be unreliable but he'll be forced to appear incompetent before Wesley.
"What's up with you and bad news these days, Cross?" Wesley smirked, he could guess what was up. Cross had a very readable expression and was an easily understood person.
"I am really sorry Wesley,"
Wesley scoffed, taking a sip from his glass cup of red wine.
"The bastard stood me up." Wesley scoffed, taking a look at his watch.
"I can't say, his arcade is not responding as well." Cross said.
"Nobody messes with Wesley Jameson." He paused. "I always get what I want in the end." Wesley's lips played a weird smile. "Take a sit Cross. I'll deal with Mr Maguire."
A few days after that...
"Young lady, move aside!" The huge voice of the workman sitting behind the wheels of the bulldozer rang, and the young lady in question was none other than Charlotte, who was chained to the front door of the arcade shop she works for.
That's right. Mr Maquire's gaming shop, facing the bulldozer fearlessly yet anxiously as it threatened to tear down the building.
"Mr Maguire says you shouldn't tear down his shop." Charlotte retorted nervously, holding tight to the lock.