13 t h i r t e e n : all you can eat

I turn to use the bathroom and get a drink of water. Once I exit the bathroom, Drake's waiting for me.

"Um, hello."

Why am I so freaking awkward?

"My office," he says softly.

I nod subserviently.

When we've arrived, he closes the door.

I struggle to let out a deep breath.

"You okay?"

"Um, yeah." I cough discreetly.

It quickly turns into a coughing fit, and he comes behind me to pat my back.

"Ah, I'm fine," I muster out—still coughing.

"Please don't die in my office."

Shut the fuck up.

Finally, I clear my throat. "Okay, okay. I'm fine."

His palm is still on the small of my back, keeping me steady.

"Um, why exactly am I here?"

He stills then moves behind his desk.

"We need to sort out some logistics of the offer I made you the other day."

The internship.

"You'll be a consultant in the law department of Staple Oil."

Okay, okay. I know I said I hate billionaires… well, "hate" is a stretch. Let's say I strongly disagree with their morals and methods. HOWEVER, when an opportunity slaps me in the face, I don't get mad at it—I welcome it.

Also, I can look at it like an in. My way into the minds of the conductors of the toxic world that is the oil industry.

"You okay with that?"

My mental wheels are turning.

"Yep, of course."

He smiles lightly. "You'll be in our headquarters, just North of—"

"Yeah, I know where it is." I glance behind me, through the glass slits in the door. Everyone seems to be working hard. And I'm in here.

He taps his desk impatiently.

"So, is that all?" I ask.

He nods, although it looks like he's holding something back.

I head back out to work with the others.

Claire eyes me suspiciously.

"What's with—"

"Don't," I sigh exasperatedly.

She shrugs, still looking in the direction of his office.

"Well, while you were on vacation, we were helping people and getting shit done."

Vacation?

"Whatever."

* * *

"So, I was thinking that we should start your assimilation into culture today," Claire mutters, while applying her mascara.

"Hmm."

"C'mon. Our first step is ditching your car and hopping on the subway."

"Okay, all I hear about the subway are complaints. Literally. People get raped, killed, and robbed on that shit. Now, why would you want to assimilate me into that?" I rub my temples.

She rolls her eyes. "It's completely safe."

I sigh and pick up my water bottle. Waving my keys, I taunt her. "See these? They assist me in the culture of not getting victimized."

"We'll be going together. Buddy system."

After I don't budge, she puts on a pout.

"Come onnn. You're my new best friend. I love youuu."

"Fine. Who else would I want to be killed, raped, or mugged with?"

"That's the spirit. How long are you paying for your car to stay in the garage?"

"About five hours or so."

"Plenty of time. Good thing you got your running shoes on."

She charges on in front of me, dragging me along like a lost puppy.

"First, we eat," she says, pointing her index finger up.

In response, my stomach grumbles.

Claire's eyes widen at the earthquake in my stomach.

"I forgot breakfast…"

"Luckily for you, we're going to a buffet."

"Ooh, what type?"

"Surprise."

She looks up to see what street we're on and gauges the traffic volume. "Hmm, let's go this way."

"Genevieve."

Confused, I turn around, and Drake is by the main entrance, approaching us.

Claire's still walking, but I stop her. "Uh, wait a sec."

"I told you, it's Gen," I emphasize.

He bites his lip and mocks me. "Gen, here's some of the paperwork for the position."

I look over the papers. "Staple Oil" is engraved into the front page, shining with its pretentious nature. This must be special ink.

"Just directions and logistics of the position and—"

"Thanks."

He huffs, taps his foot, then leaves.

As he's leaving, I notice him ruffling his hair. Something's got that guy tense.

"Uh, let's go." I tuck the papers into my bag and follow Claire into the street.

"Fuck, look where you're going!" Some guy yells.

Claire just responds with her middle finger.

New York City spirit.

"You know, we actually didn't have right of way…"

She just rolls her eyes.

Okay.

"Pedestrians always have right of way. Maybe you shouldn't be driving," she jokes.

"Well, the light literally said, 'don't walk,' so…"

She shoots me a glare to shut me up.

"Okay, only 4 more blocks."

Only?

We pass a couple homeless people, some street-venders, and some guys in suits—undoubtedly some of the types I'll be working alongside soon.

"Ca-Can I get a dollar?" a guy in tattered, stained clothing grumbles.

"Sorry," I shake my head.

"Bitch!" he shouts.

I gasp. What the hell?

Claire grabs hold of the small of my back and guides me into a dark doorway.

"One table for two," she tells the host.

We're seated by the entrance, in a velvety red booth.

I rub my exposed arms slowly. I should have worn a sweater.

"You can't acknowledge the crackheads," Claire says suddenly.

"Hmm? That homeless guy?"

"There's a difference between homeless people and crackheads."

I furrow my eyebrows.

"Homeless people are like the ones that come to Marie's. Crackheads are drug-addicted fucks that will assault you if you don't give them money."

Hmm.

"And you could tell that guy was an addict… how?" I twirl my curls in frustration.

"That white film around his mouth, his bloodshot eyes, the scars on his wrists—how could you not have known?"

"I don't know. I thought I respectfully rejected—"

"Just ignore."

"Your city, your rules," I nod.

"You're damn right."

Finally, I get to glance down at the menu.

"All you can eat sushi?"

"Yep. Best in the world."

I doubt that.

"I fucking love sushi, Claire," I say seriously.

"Good. I bet I can out-eat you."

Not a chance.

"I'm running on an empty stomach. Try me, but you'll lose."

Just as she's sending me her most competitive glare and rolling up her sleeves, I get a text from Aaron.

"Come over."

I slam the phone down and focus back on the menu.

"What's up?" Claire eyes me with concern.

"Boyfriend."

She furrows her eyebrows and picks at the thread on her jeans. "I'd expect you to be a bit… I don't know… happy about that?"

…

"Gen?"

"Hmm? Yeah… Oh!" I scratch my forehead. "What were you saying?"

"Uh, nothing," she settles, resigned.

A short waitress approaches us with jugs of ice cold water.

"Water?"

"Yes please," we say in unison.

"We'd like to start with two California Rolls—"

"A Maki Roll," I add.

She takes our order and departs.

"So you gonna tell me why your boyfriend texted you, and you reacted like he sent a bomb threat?" she says with her arms crossed.

I sigh. "He's just been intolerable lately."

"Spill."

"Just… he seems inconsiderate of like…"

How do I explain this without explaining it?

"Your feelings?"

"No, but… yes."

She doesn't need to know everything.

"He picks his friends over you?"

"Ehh, something like that," I shrug.

"Be specific," she says sternly.

I tilt my head.

"Sorry, I crave drama," she apologizes.

"Okay, so the other day, he lied about where he was gonna be, and I caught him in a lie."

We sound like some cheesy married couple. Eww.

She nods, trying to be sympathetic, but I can tell she doesn't truly relate. Claire seems like the type to not be tied down… and I'm whining about my weird relationship issues.

"Whatever, it doesn't matter. I'm with you. Let's eat."

* * *

One roll in, and Claire's begging for mercy.

"Let's take a break," she mumbles with a full mouth.

"No, I'm winning."

That's what she gets for putting extra wasabi on.

I was so hungry.

She licks her fingers and throws her head back.

"Where to next?"

"We're going to the park."

We pay the bill and exit onto the street. Immediately, the bustle of city life and blinding sunlight envelope us.

I turn and almost crash into a biker, speeding down the sidewalk.

"Shit!" I exclaim.

"Your senses always have to be alert in the city," Claire scolds.

Jeez, I'm not a total child.

She grabs my arm. "Oh, also, that's the wrong way."

Once we get into Central Park, there's a change in pace. I feel a gentle breeze and the woodsy smell of nature—a strong contrast from the smell of gasoline and the sound of taxis whipping by.

"That garden is so beautiful," I gasp.

"Yep, Conservatory Garden," Claire smiles.

There are pink flowers of every shade sprinkled around us. Birds chirp and fly from branch to branch.

The fountain pushes gallons of water over 6 feet into the air at an incredible speed.

It smells peaceful. I don't know how, but it does. This might have to be my new reading spot. Saxby's has nothing on this.