Chelsea
———
I stood right there in front of my hotel, my heart drumming against my chest. I'd left my bag in a stranger's vehicle, and as if the day couldn't get any worse, I was running late for work.
I fumbled through my hand luggage, my fingers brushing through cables, notebooks, and other accessories, until they landed on the smooth surface of my laptop. Thank goodness I didn't lose it too. A breath of relief escaped my lips.
I took out my wallet and flipped it open, my hand rippling through its compartments. My stomach churned with unease as I couldn't find anything useful. No cash, no cards, just an old receipt and a God awful passport photograph.
Panic surged through me as I saw the time. I didn't have much time left. My hands shook frantically as I grabbed my phone, swiftly putting up my location on the map. Luckily, my destination was only a few blocks away. I could totally make it there on time if I ran fast. My gaze dropped to my feet, I had my pink Crocs on—I had lost my slick pumps at the airport back in Toronto.
I bolted forward, the wind blowing against my face, and my heart beating like a war drum. Multiple eyes followed me in amusement as I ran, but I paid them no mind. It was my job on the line, not theirs.
I weaved through the bustling streets in a hurry, my phone clutched tightly in my hand like a lifeline—at that moment, it was. The little blue dot on my map taunted me, shifting slightly as I picked up the pace. Come on, come on. I silently cursed the day. I should've left earlier, but my alarm clock decided to betray me on the worst possible day. And Xavier, I waited for him to accompany me to the airport, but he didn't pick up his calls.
The wind blew my hair across my face as I weaved through the intersection, ignoring the incessant honks from the annoyed cab driver.
"Sorry, buddy, I'm kind of in a hurry here," I apologized, my gaze fixed on my phone.
The directions said it was just a couple of blocks left, but the sheer number of people clogging the sidewalks made every step feel like a battle. My footsteps were muffled against the pavement. With every step, my Crocs' delicate form scraped against the floor, leaving close to nothing between my feet and the harsh ground.
Finally, I found a commercial building where our New York settlement was located. I slid to a stop, beholding the awe of its towering structure. Its sleek, modern facade seemed to stretch up to the sky, making me feel tiny in comparison just like the other buildings around. My eyes drew to the big pylon sign post mounted prominently in front of it. The bold letters glowed with fluorescent lights, displaying the tenant companies' logos, and names. I felt a sense of relief as I saw the name of my company boldly etched on the top most partition.
'GRAND LUXE CO.'
Thank goodness I'm in the right place.
I burst through the revolving glass doors, my rubber footwear squeaking against the polished tiles in an annoying rhythm that matched my rising pulse. As I stormed in, I felt a flurry of eyes turning towards me from all directions, their irritated gazes burning into me. I flashed an awkward smile and exchanged quick greetings with a few welcoming faces.
"Hey, Good evening."
"Hi, Chelsea from Toronto."
"Hello. Please excuse me."
I weaved through the crowded lobby, my gaze fixed on the elevator bank ahead. I had to get to the top floor. I finally got inside the elevator, I pressed the button for the top floor where my office was located.
The ride on the elevator was nerve racking, my stomach growled silently, and cold balls of sweat trailed down my face. As I waited for the door to open, I tapped my foot impatiently, with my eyes shut, hoping Elizabeth wasn't there to see me like this.
The doors slowly came open following a soft chime, and I stepped out into the spacious, modern corridor where my colleagues were.
My eyes drifted around the open space, captivated by the calm work atmosphere. Then suddenly, there they were.
Elizabeth Dubois in all her glory. She stood right there in the middle of the hall, disappointment palpable in her stance, and stare. Her presence was commanding and intimidating. She stood tall, dressed in Fendi head to toe—a sleek dress, latex boots, it earrings, and a lengthy trench coat. The warm glow from the bulbs, casted golden hues on her rich blonde hair. Her face was etched with just the right amount of wrinkles to tell that she was furious.
Beside her was Yvette, the sauce Queen as Sloane would call her, leaching off Elizabeth's authority as always. God I wanted that spot. She was dressed in a chic gown that balanced glamour and professionalism, her well moisturized melanin skin shined in the bright lights, and her braids were neatly packed in a bun.
"Oh my God! I'm so sorry I had the worst day ever."
"What is this? Does it work here?" Elizabeth asked, turning to Yvette, and furrowing her brows.
"That's Sinclair, the second assistant," Yvette answered, rolling her eyes.
"I lost my bags at the airport—" I tried to explain, but she whipped her head and strode into her office, leaving me alone with Yvette.
"Cut that crap! You still have your job because God has smiled on you," she spat, leaning towards me. "Clock in immediately and get to work. You look like a circus freak."
As bad as I wanted to punch her in the face, I remained silent. Not waiting for another word, I sped off to the register, scanned my ID, and dived into my tasks like my life depended on it—because it did.
————
The sunlight had already softened into a warm orange glow by the time I stepped out of the building. After three hours of work, my body ached, exhaustion draping over me like a heavy coat. I didnt even have the energy to be upset about every fucking thing that went wrong that day. At least it had come to an end, and I could finally get to my hotel and—
Oh. Right.
My bags.
I grumbled, raking my hand through my hair, as I trekked back to the Arlo NoMad. I decided not to think about it because the more I did, the more pissed I became.
Just as I strolled through the city, enjoying the view, I noticed something.
A massive billboard—bigger than the others—loomed over the streets, staring down at me. I raised my head up reading through the content of the advert when I noticed a familiar face featured on it.
From Pressure to Power: The young billionaire prodigy Nathaniel Vaughn Shares His 5 Stress-Conquering Hacks.
Nate!
My eyes widened further in shock as the face got clearer. He was famous.
The realization sent a subtle feeling of relief down my spine. I could reach him through social media. The feeling of hopelessness from moments ago suddenly faded, as I found my smile again.
I whipped out my phone from my bag. Not to search for him—at least not yet, but to call the one person who never got overwhelmed by the chaos in my life.
"Girl. You are not going to believe what a day I just had."
"Trust me Chels, I already believe you... Every single thing."