-Zella-

Staring down at the clothes selection my mother has packed for me, I immediately regret not shopping with more often. She has a wonderful taste in clothing for a fifty year old woman. I seriously under estimated her fashion sense in every way possible. I choose to wear a decent skirt that falls just above my knees and a white blouse with jewels bordering like a collar. As I look in the mirror, I smirk at the image I see in front of me. I look so professional, something I’ve never been very good at. The dressiest anyone has ever seen me is my high school prom. Even then, I was underdressed.

But I decide that with this new job, I will change my style. My mother has given me countless lectures on gaining respect through the way that I dress, and it only hits me now. If I want people at work to respect me, I need to step up my game.

When I step outside my apartment, my eyes fall to the door the little girl went through last night. I wonder what her parents are like. Whether their eyes are is magnificently blue as hers. As soon as I leave the gated apartment complex, the streets of New York City hit me hard.

Literally. People push past me in a very disrespectful manner, not once caring to stop and see whether they’ve killed me with such strong shoves. Never have I been such an attention seeker, but I wish that someone would take a second to apologize for their rude behavior on the crowded sidewalks. I stop by the curb to call for a taxi. I follow the way another woman does it, but not a single one of the yellow cars slows to a stop.

“Taxi!” I jump up and down but there are too many people for a taxi driver to single me out and pull over. I spend nearly twenty minutes trying to catch a taxi and I’m close to tears when I realize I’m late. First day on the job, and I’ m sure to be getting a lecture from the boss I haven’t even met.

“Having trouble?”

The familiar deep voice appears from behind me. Dressed in a suit and tie, the guy from yesterday stands beside me. He looks especially spectacular today in his attire, hair pushed back into a broad quiff. Myself on the other hand, I must look like shit. I can practically feel my eyeliner running from the humidity. I’d rather not begin on my hair.

“Watch and learn,” the guy says, shooting me one of his small smirks before stepping in front of me. He sticks two fingers between his lips and whistles loudly, waving his free hand in the air. Just like that, a taxi pulls over. The guy turns and gives me a knowing grin to which I blush.

“Where are you headed?” he asks as he opens the door to the taxi that he’s summoned like a god.

I recite the address that I forced myself to memorize as soon as I got my acceptance letter just over a month ago. “Kenton Magazine Corp. on Third Street.”

His smile grows and he gets into the taxi. I expect him to close the door and wave goodbye, but instead he holds it open, as if he’s expecting me to get in.

“Well,” he snorts, “what are you waiting for?”

“What?” I squint my eyes at him. “I’m not just going to follow a stranger around.”

The guy shoots me a smug grin. “Sweetheart, we’re going to the same place.” It takes a second to sink in, but I find myself getting into the taxi. I’m well aware that my skirt rises up as I step in, and also well aware that the guy is watching.

“Kenton Magazine Corp. Third Street.” The guy tells the taxi driver. I fail to make my observations of his face very discreet. I can’t help it. His eyes sparkle like the ocean water and his lips are so full and pink. His profile in general is very attracting.

I look down at my watch and sigh. Already half an hour late. It will take at least another fifteen minutes to get to the building. Then, I realize something.

“Aren’t you late for work, too?”

The guy shrugs lightly, as if being late is in the least of his worries. “I called my boss and told her I had some issues with my alarm clock. She was generous enough to not get pissed off.”

“And it doesn’t bother you?”

“Not at all,” the guy answers, facing me. “I’m sure she won’t get too mad when she finds out you’re late. The worst she’ll do is put you on probation.”

“Probation?” The words leave my mouth in a loud squeal. The guy winces and plugs his ears to tease me. “Oh god. This is terrible. You don’t understand. If my boss puts me on probation, I don’t know what I’ll do.”

“What’s your bosses name?” he asks, zoning out to my small rant.

“Mona Miller.” I tell him, still slightly worried about what will come of my work life. “Is she your boss, too?”

He doesn’t answer my question which makes me angry. I hate that he thinks he can ask me questions and expect me to be okay with not knowing anything about him. I scoff and turn to face the window, but I can feel his eyes on me.

I snap my head towards him. “What?”

He simply smirks and shakes his head, turning to face the car window closest to him. Arrogant is an understatement for his description.

We reach the Kenton Magazine Corp. after a long and quiet ride. I hurry out of the taxi after a short argument with the guy based on who would pay the taxi fare. The guy won, declaring that it was his welcome gift.

When I step into the building, my hair is frizzy from the strong wind, and my face feels sticky from the humidity. I feel disgusting, and I can only imagine what my boss will think. The guy who I’ve spent an entire taxi ride with jogs up behind me, grabbing my arm just as I make my way towards the lobby. I turn around and shake his hand off me. My expression demands an explanation for stalling me.

“You’re skirts a bit messed up,” he shrugs, and before I can stop him he reaches back and pulls the wrinkled hem of my skirt down. I feel a blush rising to my cheeks and look down to hide it. His hands move up to flatten out my white blouse and straighten my diamond collar.

“Thanks,” I mumble, giving him a curt nod before moving along. I hear him chuckle lightly behind me, but when I turn back, I see him entering another door on the other side of the lobby.

I talk to the receptionist at the front desk and she points me in the direction of Kenton Magazine’s floor. It takes me another five minutes to find the elevator. I’m now just under an hour late. I groan with anticipation as the elevator takes it’s own dear time to open it’s doors. When it finally does, I step inside and press the button for the third floor, silently praying that no one else will step into the elevator and lower my chances of keeping my job.

Thankfully, there isn’t one person in sight. The elevator doors close and I sigh contently. I watch the red numbers at the top of the elevator increase. Level one… level two… and then it stops.

“You have got to be kidding me,” I mutter when the arrogant guy steps into the elevator. When he sees me, a smirk stretches across his face and I want so badly to slap it off. I watch silently as he presses the button for floor three as well. Atleast we’re going to the same place.

As soon as the elevator stops at floor three, I rush out of the elevator and my eyes widen. The floor looks elegant, with chandeliers hanging every five feet I walk. Lights bordered in glass are built into the ceiling, making the entire floor look richer. There is a large resting area with creamy maroon sofas and glass coffee tables. There are doors covering every inch of the wide hallway with double meeting room doors at the end. A marble sign is attached to the wall with the words, “Kenton Magazine Co.” printed on it.

“Follow me if you don’t want to get fired,” the guy smirks from behind me, stepping in front of me with long strides, easily halfway down the hall as I continue to stare with my mouth wide open. I hurry and follow him, nearly jogging to keep up with him. He stops at a door with the words, “Mona Miller, KM Manager” sealed into the door.

“Good luck,” he exhales, opening the door slightly and giving me a light shove. I glare at him before straightening myself out. I push the door open and prepare to face my doom.

I’m terrified when I see a woman in her mid-forties sitting in a chair behind a large desk. Computer screens with various fashion designs surround her, as if it’s her own personal wall. The image startles me slightly. She looks up and her eyes narrow as she takes me in.

“You must be Zella Mae.” The woman says, sitting up taller in her chair. I nod, clearing my throat before I speak.

“Yes I am. I am so sorry that I’m late. I got stuck in traffic and I couldn’t figure out how to call a taxi, and it took absolutely ages to find the elevators. Let alone how long this hallway is.” I begin my small rant and I watch her smile grow. Soon, she starts laughing. I stare at her, confused at what exactly in my distressed explanation is funny. “Excuse me, is something wrong?”

“Has anyone ever bothered to tell you that you worry too much?” she asks, standing up from her seat. “We all have our bad days, you know.”

“Of course,” I nod vigorously, “but this is my first day and I’ve already given you such a bad impression. I see every reason to be worrying.”

“First of all, my name is Mona Miller,” my boss smiles even wider, if that is humanely possible. She holds out a hand and I shake it lightly. “Now dear, I need you to take a deep breath and let all your stress go. The last thing I want any of my clients to feel is pressure. In fact, I hereby the declare this a pressure free zone.”

I inhale and exhale, repeating the process twice for assurance.

Mona leads me through everything about my job. She explains that once in a while, I’ll do little errands like pick up a coffee or a doughnut for her, or file papers and design layouts in cabinets, the average assistant type of work. But then she moves on to the exciting part of my job, where I write articles to go along with the outfits that she and the other clients create. I can’t help the smile of my face as she encourages me to use every ounce of creativity that I have. All my life, I have been limited to the textbook.

“Now of course, you’ll only be covering the female portion of fashion,” Mona says, “so I’d like you to meet my other assistant. He writes for the male portion of Kenton, mainly the sports section. You two will be sharing the office next to mine. I’ll call him up. Give me a second.”

I watch as she dials a number on her phone and speaks to someone. Only seconds later, a very familiar person, one I’ve seen too many times today, walks through the door.

“Hey Mona,” the arrogant guy grins. I notice he’s rid of his suit, now only in a dress shirt with the long sleeves rolled up and his black slacks. I glare at him and he smirks at me. How dare he give me such a terrifying image of Mona? She is easily one of the friendliest people I’ve met.

“Zella,” Mona captures my attention. “This is Louis. Louis, Zella.”

Louis. It fits him nicely.

“Nice to meet you, Zella.” He puts emphasis on my name, his left eye dropping into a fast wink. I shake his hand as quickly as I can, then retract my hand from his own. I have to admit, his skin is pleasantly soft.

“Nice to meet you too, Louis.”

We stare at each other until Mona clears her throat, clapping her hands together as she speaks.

“Louis, you two will be sharing the office now, so why don’t you give her a short tour of the room?”

Louis nods and smiles at me, motioning for me to follow him. We exit Mona’s office and as soon as the door closes, I shove Louis’s arm.

“What was that for?” he asks, genuinely confused by my actions.

“That was for making me think that Mona was some horrible, stereotypical boss.”

Louis grins and brushes off my shove as if it didn’t effect him at all, opening the door right next to Mona’s office. The room itself is larger than my entire apartment. Two chandeliers hang from the ceiling and sofas border the walls of the room. There are two desks pressed against the walls, parallel to each other. One desk is filled with papers and pictures while the other is empty.

“That’s yours.” Louis points to the empty desk. There is an Apple computer sitting on the blank desk area along with a small bowl of chocolates. A mini fridge sits at the side of the desk, along with a water filter. At the very end of the room, there is a large window covering most of the wall, opening out to give us a beautiful view of New York City down below.

“This is absolutely insane,” I gape, sliding my fingers lightly over the desk as I stare out at the picturesque view.

“Best job I’ve ever had.” Louis’s comment adds to my astonishment. “Now I’ve got myself a roomie, too. Won’t be as boring on the long nights.”

“What long nights?” I ask, turning away from the window to face him. He smiles and sits down in his chair, scooting closer to his desk.

“Sometimes Mona has us assistants stay extra to put magazine content together at the last night.” Louis explains. “It’s not too bad, I mean, we do get extra pay.”

“So until I arrived, you’ve stayed late all alone?”

“Pretty much,” Louis nods. “It’s not bad at all when there are speakers blasting out music to jam to.”

Before I get the chance to ask what speakers he’s talking about, Louis grabs a remote off of his desk and presses a button, pointing the remote control at two white speakers attached to the ceiling that I had failed to notice before. Green Day blasts through the speakers at an incredibly loud volume.

“Isn’t it a bit too loud?” I nearly scream at Louis.

“All the rooms are soundproof,” he yells with a grin, but still turns the music down. “Imagine just how loud I can make the speakers when there’s no one left on the floor by me.”

Suddenly I wonder why he isn’t deaf.

“So,” I say slowly. “You’re my neighbor and my colleague.”

“Yeah,” he raises his eyebrows. “Got a problem?”

“No.” I sigh. “Just taking it all in.”

“You know, there’s another pretty cool girl who works here. “ Louis begins to stand up. “She lives in the apartment on the other side of you. I’ll take you to meet her.”

I don’t get time to protest because Louis grabs my wrist and pulls me out of our office towards a door that’s exactly five doors down from ours. Louis knocks on the door twice before walking in. I nearly scream at what I see. There is a gorgeous Asian girl with chestnut brown sitting on her desk, a guy sucking her face off. Her shirt had ridden up plenty enough for my eyes. I turn away in disgust.

“Get a grip, Drae.” Louis interrupts, unaffected by the scene before us. “You too, Trace. We’ve got a newbie here.”

The girl, assuming her name is Drae, suddenly pushes the guy away from her body and pulls her shirt down looking startled. She blushes furiously as she stands up, nearly collapsing until her make out buddy catches her and sets her straight.

“Zella, this is Dragon Evans.” Louis smirks, pushing me closer to her.

“Please don’t call me Dragon.” Drae pleads. “I really don’t know what my mother was thinking when she named me. Nor do I have a clue on why my father didn’t stop her.”

I shake hands with Drae. She’s gives me a good vibe. Though my first impression of her wasn’t all too high, she definitely seems friendly.

“This is my fiancée, Trace Lemens.” Drae pushes her make out buddy forward. He’s blushing more than she is. I suddenly find their relationship rather adorable.

“Hi,” he smiles. “I’m so sorry you had to see us like that. I’m sure it wasn’t the most pleasant thing you’ve seen and I apologize.”

“It’s fine,” I smirk lightly. “Let’s just say I’ve seen worse.”

Trace laughs lightly and backs away, sliding an arm around Drae’s waist in a protective manner. They seem like well respected people, even though I caught them in their little slip up. I guess their attraction was too strong to wait until after work.

“Drae, Zella moved into the apartment between us yesterday.” Louis notifies, nudging me lightly in the shoulder. “So now we can all be apartment buddies.”

Trace, Drae, Louis and I make conversation about work life and it’s pros and cons. They also tell me that they’re very happy to have me move in next to them. Both Drae and Trace seem like very genuine people, with promising smiles on their lips without a single sweat of effort. I can almost picture them on their wedding day and even though I’ve known them for barely an hour, I take the time to congratulate them on their engagement because I feel so close to them already.

Louis takes me back to our office and shows me how to work the software, explaining how to set up magazine pages and the most attractive designs. Then he takes me to the corner of the room where a large sale board is set up. There’s a large bar graph with the monthly sales of Kenton Magazine. As the months progress, the bar rises, meaning higher sales. I suppose this is a good thing.

“Kenton is one of the top magazines in New York,” Louis lectures, pointing to comparisons of our sale rates alongside other magazine sales. “This is because we cover almost everything a typical magazine reader wants to see. The athletics side of the magazine is most read according to surveys. That portion of the magazine is where we compare different athletic clothing material and prove why one is better than the other. People want the best, and we tell them what’s what.”

“So will I be writing more about women’s athletic clothing rather than casual and formal wear?”

“Yes.” Louis nods, glad that I’ve understood his point. “It’s actually a really fun topic to write about because half the time you spend researching famous athletes. Mona honestly just wants articles turned in by the deadline. She doesn’t care what you do between those times as long as you meet your quota. I just pretend I’m searching up Ronaldo for an article and end up watching a good game football.”

I laugh lightly at his confession. A little bit of pressure is taken away when I realize how loose bounded this magazine is, considering how popular the sales are. “What is the general amount of time we have to complete one article?”

“Normally three weeks.” Louis says. “It really depends on what’s hot and how fast things are moving along in the clothing world.”

Not too long after, Mona walks in holding a couple of papers in her hand.

“Here’s your first task,” she grins, handing the papers to me. “Write me an article on casual summer dresses. The papers have all the criteria you need to include. Make it short and sweet so it’s an option for a reader. Remember, we’re not a gossip magazine so don’t discriminate anyone or anything.”

She walks out, blowing me a kiss from her bright her lips.

Louis clears his throat, gaining my attention. “I’ve got to go talk to one of the editors, but feel free to start typing. It might take a while to get into your zone, so I’ll leave you to it.”

“Okay,” I smile, turning to face the blank computer screen as he left the office room. I start to go through the papers that Mona has lent me. There is a significant load of criteria to include in one single article, and I don’t know how I can possibly do it. I turn the computer on and open a Word document. I let my fingers hoover over the keyboard and take a deep breath.

And then I type.

---

Just as I get halfway through the article that I’ve titled, “Trendy Trends: How to Look Your Best This Summer”, Louis walks into the office room. He smiles at me and closes the door.

“Drae, Trace and I are going out for lunch with two of our other colleagues.” He notifies as I get a suddenly sinking feeling in my chest. “Would you like to come?”

I shake my head, rejecting his offer. “I’ll stay here, but thank you.”

“You sure?” his eyebrows raise. “It’ll be a great way to get to know some other people.”

“I said I’m fine.” I snap at him. Louis frowns, but doesn’t touch the topic again. He grabs his wallet from his desk and powers down his computer before leaving me in the room again.

It’s not that I don’t want to go out to lunch with them. I’m just not much of a people person. I take my time to judge others before I approach them. In addition, the diet that my mother insisted I go on limits my options to the lowest. I normally eat a cup of yogurt and fruit for all three of my meals. For todays’ occasion, I’ve made myself an all natural cheese sandwich as well. It’s actually quite tasty, but people are quick to judge in a negative away, declaring me anorexic before I can explain. I’ve never been much of an eater anyways, but I do know when too little food is too little. I’m not unhealthy at all.

Atleast, I don’t think I am.

I open my small cooler bag and pull out a cup of vanilla yogurt, along with a mixture of grapes, apples and peaches in a bag. I continue to work while I eat, smiling occasionally when I realize I’ve written something with very good quality. Once my yogurt and fruit are eaten, I start on my sandwich.

The one and a half hour lunch break passes by fairly quickly, but I’m long done with my lunch when Louis walks in. He smiles and gives me a short nod before taking a seat at him own desk. I’d have to turn fully to look at him, since the desks are set up so that our backs face each other, so decide against it.

The two of work silently, only the sound of keys being pressed echoing the room. I decide to take a short break when my fingers start to cramp. Louis’s back faces me as his fingers fly across the keyboard intensely. I imagine his face looks focused, and as restless as I am, the last thing I’d want to do is bother him. I sigh and turn back to my computer screen to go along with my work.

Soon, three o’ clock comes around and I’m nearly finished writing my article. It’s the fastest I’ve ever typed, and the most focused I’ve ever been when writing. Normally I have distractions that lower my quality of writing, but as I re read over what I’ve managed to finish, I know in a second that it’s the best work I’ve done, and on my very first day of work, too.

And shutting down my computer, I begin to pack my minimal amount of things into my purse. I hear Louis shuffling around as he gathers his things as well.

“Are you going home by taxi?” Louis asks, the first words I’ve hear from him since lunch.
“I am,” I answer with a confident smile. “Why do you ask?”

“Well, we’re going to the same place, so if you’d like we can get a ride together.” He explains. He looks at me, expecting an answer. I don’t see anything wrong with riding home with him. Perhaps it’s safer, even.

“Okay.” I tell him, and a smile grows on his lips.

Office hour provides more than enough traffic once we hit the road. I’m sure the taxi only moves a centimeter in five minutes. Cars honk loudly, but it doesn’t help the traffic one bit. Louis asks me a few questions about my home in Texas, but I don’t bother to make a conversation of it. I’ m still not too comfortable around him. In fact, he hasn’t given me any reason to put my trust in him quite yet.

It takes nearly two hours to get back to our apartment complex. Louis and I walk together in silence, but I suppose it’s not too uncomfortable. When we reach our doors, he faces me and waves.

“See you tomorrow…” Louis says as he unlocks the door to his apartment. “Uh, Zella, right?”

“Yes.” I answer. “See you tomorrow.”

He nods curtly and steps inside his apartment, closing the door behind him.

Notes

HEY CHILDREN.

So I'm moving to a new house in a city four hours away from where I currently live which would explain why I took nearly two weeks to update. It's way more work than I thought, driving back and forth and jahhh. But anyways, Here is the second chapter of Apartment #191. I hope you guys liked it! Please comment below all your thoughts and concerns. I'd love to answer any of your questions. :)