"Oh heavens, it is Mommy Milki—"
"Shut up," Drew deadpanned.
"Yes Mommy, be mean to me," the man on the line whined.
"Shhh, zip it. Not a word fro—"
"What made you think of this humble slave on a random Wednesday, Mommy?" the man cut in.
"Zip the mommy, Owen," Drew snapped.
"Oh so you accept me being your slave? Own me, mistress," Owen all but moaned over the line.
"Oh my lord, will you please shut your trap for a moment?! I have an urgent work for you," Drew seethed into the speaker, each word uttered with utmost exasperation.
"Of course you will remember me in your moment of need, how can I help Your Highness today?" Owen asked. Though his words were cleaner this time around, his tone still teetered into breathless territory.
"I need you to find me a man," Drew ordered.
"Oh, don't make me jealous, Mommy. Why find? Let me be your man!" Owen rapped even before Drew could comprehend.
"Shut up you desperate twig," Drew grumbled.
"You make me desperate," Owen countered.
Drew visibly cringed, then rephrased, "I need you to find me a person. This is absolutely urgent."
"Makes me jealous but okay, I am your honest slave. Give me a name," Owen said.
"Aldric Zaid Christaller."
"Ald— wait, Drew, what the fuck do you have to do with Zaid Christaller?!" Owen snapped. The sudden shift of his tone, from breathless and whiny to deep and demanding, left the girl frowning at her phone, wondering if her line was hacked midway.
"Owen? You there?" Drew asked.
"Yes, I am, no kidding dude. Why are you looking for Aldric Christaller?" He asked, sounding frustrated.
"So you do know about him! Oh my goodness! I need to know everything!" Drew gasped, bright eyes looking at Aurora with hope. The brunette merely shrugged in an 'I-told-you-so,' manner.
"Why though?" Owen pressed.
"Well, I need to meet him."
There was a loud scoffed followed by maniacal cackle. "You do not just MEET Zaid Christaller, Drew, you do not find him. He's bad news. Whatever you gotta know, tell me about it. You should stay away from him," Owen warned.
"Why? Who is he? Why is he such a big deal? What do you know? I need you to tell me everything," Drew pressed.
"No can do," Owen sang, "You know I love you but this, this man, trust me, people do not seek him out."
Drew gulped, licked her lips, then used her best whiny voice to plead, "Are you really saying no to me, Owen? I am upset. Here I thought we could meet up and talk about it. Hmph."
"Fuck, fuck, fuck, holy fuck, dude, you cannot just nuclear bomb me outta nowhere. Give a warning dude, what the fuck, meet up when? I am dying to see you again," Owen spluttered.
"Hmm, collect the info and I'll see you at 2 in Robin's?" Drew proposed.
"You underestimate me Mommy, I will collect the info in ten and spend the rest building up courage to look at them Mommy Mil—"
Drew hung up and threw her phone on the bed. It bounced away, quite like her sanity.
"Why did this oh-so-dangerous man seek me out? Who is he connected with? All the nominees hold a grudge against me...but—"
"You should eat first," Aurora interrupted Drew's line of thought and pointed at the tray in her hand.
"I should, right," Drew rolled off her bed and got up. She stretched her limbs as Aurora said:
"I'll reheat it, come downstairs."
"Yes ma'am!" Drew twirled and did a sailor moon pose before tip toeing into her bathroom.
Breakfast was a warm and heavy affair, spent by Aurora's narrations about cooking anecdotes and the ingredients she used to make the meal special today. Drew appreciated her efforts, all the while working on a new algorithm in her head to find that Eldritch man of a wannabe husband.
If Owen could know the enigmatic Aldric by never coming out of his house and spending all possible time watching perverted anime, then she could certainly do better. Though, the proceedings would come at a risk of hacking into the government's database and while Owen had nothing at stake to lose, Drew had a lot to.
"What use is it to have this magic when I am restricted to use it for evil purposes," Drew sighed as she raised her hands and stared at them. In her imagination, her hands glowed like the sun but all that glitters is not gold.
"Chill out Voldemort," Aurora snorted, "How about you sign some files instead. You still need to attend the budgeting meetings and schedule Mrs. Cassano's felicitation with the newly hired designers' orientation," the brunette reminded as she carefully placed the dirty dishes into the dishwasher.
"Ugh," Drew groaned, "Mrs. Cassano is coming like six months later so put the orientation off as long as you can. Give them incentives for the new ideas though, we need that opening in our budget as well. We also need to sign better streamers, the last one was too controversial. We need new, we need young, we need fresh. Ask if the new designers are comfortable with streaming if provided with the resources, that would help plenty. Anything else?"
"Yes, you also need to confirm the patterns for the handbag launch —"
"Oh my goodness, Auri, that is scheduled two years from now! Will you slow down?!" Drew exclaimed, wide-eyed with exasperation.
"Madam! If you do not confirm the patterns now, how will they make samples, pass quality checks, get certifications, be advertised, open from pre order, go into production and thereafter LAUNCH?!" Aurora snapped back, brows afrown, exasperated over Drew's exasperation.
"S-show me the patterns, please," Drew gulped, hands half raised in defence.
After an hour or so of going through thousands of submitted patterns, Drew took off her thick framed glasses and threw them on her work desk. "My brain isn't comprehending right now," she said as a yawn escaped her lips. The small rose gold clock on the left corner of the desk indicated 1:45 P.M. No wonder her brain was not cooperating with her will, surely it had better woes to mull over.
Drew got up and walked over to a full length mirror in her closet room. One night of sleeplessness had weighed her eyes down, a vision quite similar to her college days. She pulled her cheeks and squished them in, attempting to beat some colour into her pale face. Her wolf-cut hair were a mess akin to an overused broom, carefully placed on her head in order to alleviate her homeless aesthetic. Her brown hoodie was crushed to the point of wrinkles permanently indenting themselves into its design. She couldn't help it though, she loved the hoodie's comfortable fabric and oversized fit; her hands would reach out to it without any consideration, over and over again.
Other than having established a multi-billion dollar business, Drew had nothing else to offer. So, the purpose of the marriage trap was crystal clear. Someone was trying to hinder the only thing she was actively pursuing.
"Vile," Drew snapped at her reflection in the mirror. She was done being a plaything in the hands of fate a long while ago and she had no intentions of going back. She walked away from the mirror and chose a new outfit for the meeting with Owen. She brushed her hair and wore the crystal ring adorned on her vanity table. It captured the light from the florescent yellow bulbs of the vanity mirror as if a pastel rainbow was bursting out of it.
"I'll be back in 30," Drew said as she descended the stairs and spotted Aurora sitting in front of the television.
"You don't want me to come?" Aurora asked as she turned to face her mistress.
"You know how Owen is..." Drew gritted her teeth, "The last thing I want is him leering at you," she shuddered at the prospect of a man, any man, drooling over Aurora of all people.
"I shall wait for you," Aurora said as she stood up to walk Drew to the door.
"I know, have fun," Drew patted Aurora's brown head and left the warm confines of her home. The afternoon sun was blazing at her porch yet Drew felt chills running down her spine as she made her way to her car.
As usual, her chunky Mary Janes were best for driving comfortably, Drew thought with a smile on her face as she drove to Robin's, a cafe three streets down Berkleigh Villas. It was a cozy place with a stony exterior and a warm interior that served the best burgers Drew ever had. Robin's was her go to spot to just sit down and let life in at a slow pace.
So, that is exactly what she did when she took a seat by the tinted windows and stared at the fast paced world outside. The main street was always bustling with people trying to rush from one place to another, having not a moment to slow down and appreciate the world around them.
Granted, the economy left them no chance to take it slow.
Drew was blessed in multiple ways, she realised as she rested her back against the seat. Though, the feeling of being blessed started wearing off when Owen was a no-show for thirty minutes and all of Drew's attempts to call him would result in:
"The number you are trying to call does not exist. Please check the number and dial again later."
Through half a decade of knowing Owen Stien, Drew was sure that he wasn't one to stand people up, especially the females. He did not have it in him. What happened then?
Drew pulled out her phone and ran a quick program to locate his sim — the last of its activity showed to be around his home. Her brows furrowed with suspicion and she got up, hoping to check on him at his home, when a waitress arrived at her table.
"Good day, miss, here, a gentleman left a note for you," the waitress passed a folded note to Drew and left as quick as she had arrived.
Drew unfolded the crisp note and her jaw clenched upon reading it.
Printed on the note were the following words, "Owen will not come. Seeking him and me out is a futile attempt. You know what I want, so stay put until the 30th and everything will go back to what it once was on the 31st."
Drew scowled as her fist scrunched up the note to a paper ball. "You!" She shouted, pointing at the waitress who had passed her the note, "Did you see the face of the person who gave it to you?!" She demanded, earning head-turning looks for herself.
Put in a spot, the waitress spluttered for words, "I-I-uh, no, miss, you see we are so busy and I, no, I did not see it. He was all covered. Is everything okay? Can I help you with something?"
It did not take an aeon for the crowd to register who the shouting lass was. Whispers erupted and were shot back and forth like a hot game of volleyball.
"I need to see the CCTV footage," Drew demanded as she walked up to the waitress, "Take me there."
"Ma'am, I cannot — it's not allowed—"
Drew pulled her wallet out of her pocket and took out her shiny black card, "Doesn't matter if I am the owner now, does it? I'll buy this place. Where's the manager?"