William

Ring, Ring, Ring!

I groan grabbing my phone. James was calling me.

"What now?" I groan while turning to lay on my back,

"What do you mean by 'What now'? Do you know what time it is?" He yelled through the phone.

"No. I don't. What time is it?" I stretch my legs.

"It's ten thirty; you were supposed to be here one hour ago!" He practically screams through the phone.

"Sure it is." I roll my eyes, even though he couldn't see and sigh. I hang up, and then just to be sure, I check the time. Ten thirty-two!

"What the..!"

I jump out of bed and wear my indigo work suit and a stripped navy and white tie. I rush to the toilet and brush my teeth while trying to brush my hair into the neatest style.

Once I finish from the toilet, I run down the stairs nearly tripping over. I grab the nearest slice of bread and spread jam on it, then stuff it in my mouth.

On my way out I grabbed the keys that nearly slip out my fingers when I lock the door. I fiddled with the keys, trying to open the door and hit the pedal as soon as I set foot in the car.

I was driving with half a piece of toast in my mouth and without a seatbelt. Well so much for safety first. Right now it's business first. I pull over in front of the Red River Carson building and race my way through the corridors finding my way to my office.

Once I reach there, my office welcomes me with the fresh smell of lavender. The walls were painted metal grey and the ceiling painted bone white. It had one extensive floor to ceiling window facing the busy road. It was only eleven in the morning so it was bright and early outside with the sunrays illuminating my desk.

On the gingerbread brown desk sat my desktop computer; my notebook lying open freely and a stack of papers sitting by the stapler. In the corner the air conditioner was blasting on low and my jade coloured office chair spun ever so slightly. I'm probably seeing things but I don't care.

I saunter to my desk as I pause, straighten myself before taking a peek at the mirror. I wipe the excess jam off the corner of my lip as I check if my hair didn't mess up on the way. My hair is, thankfully, styled with a neat undercut to the side only with little strands falling out the front; it makes my deep blue eyes stand out which is why I chose black with brown highlights as my hair colour.

"You're late. Checking yourself out again?" James stood there leaning by the door frame with his arms crossed and a raised eyebrow and shaking his head.

James is my business partner he's only twenty-three and I'm twenty-six. He has jet black, slicked back hair and warm blue eyes. He also has light freckles that stand out with his ivory skin tone.

"Why? Do you have a problem with that?" I imitate his stance and cross my arms then raise my eyebrow.

"Which one, being late or checking yourself out, mate, 'cos it's both," he replies with his British accent.

James was born and raised in London, unlike me. I'm from Texas, but I don't have the accent.

James and I have been best friends since high school; we then moved to Hill-Wood city together and created a business here called Red River Carson; which was named after my father Anton C Carson.

James crosses over to me and observes himself in the mirror.

"I have a right to admire myself whenever I want to, and it's not my fault I was late, blame my alarm," I pose for the mirror, "do you think I'm good looking?" I try ignoring the fact that I was late.

James catches my eye and chuckles,

"Nah, Will. It's obvious that I'm the eye candy here," he boasts as his hand rests on his chin as he lightly scratches his stubble.

"Wanna bet on that?" I keep my eyes locked onto his. He pauses and replies with,

"Nah, man. Things went south the last time that happened; I ain't with that anymore."

His eyes went hazy like he was having a flash back moment.

Last time we had a bet, James ended up with a hand printed on his cheek. I chuckle as the memory came back to me, but as soon as James looks at me I stop.

"Go and finish your work" he says motioning the desk on the right.

I sigh and slump on my seat; I eyed the paperwork groaning at the stacks of paper piled before me. This was too much work to do just for one person.

"This," I motion to the pile, "is not possible to do alone. I need a personal assistant to this work for me. I'm too lazy, don't you think?" I change the subject and look up at him, waiting for his response. But he chuckles instead and replied with,

"I found some-" he started,

"No," I cut him off, "No, no, no, no, no. We've had more than ten assistants, personal assistants, that YOU hired, and guess what? YOU fired them, on the same day!"

I glare at him with my eyebrows raised trying to give him a hint of the point I was making.

"Fine man, whatever you say," he raises his hands up as if surrendering, "you can choose this time. But it better be a good one because I am sick and tired of saying the words 'You're fired!' ok lad?"

"Yeah, yeah. Only if I find one, that is."

I lean back on the chair and all of a sudden James starts laughing.

"Wha- what's so funny?" I looked at him questioningly.

James doesn't stop laughing. I think his laugh is contagious, because I also start laughing until we both start cracking up. I didn't know why we were laughing but I do know that we couldn't stop laughing.

When I wipe the tears welling up in my eyes, I hear a knock on the door.

Knock, knock, knock…

"Come in." I called out straighten my tie and motion to James to unlock the door. I clear my throat and waited for the person to come in.

What I didn't expect was who the person on the other side of the door was…