Wicked Intent- Chapter one

I enjoyed writing this chapter. I can feel for Meagan. In this chapter she's going through a bit of a rough patch. =(

 

Meagan

"I'm sorry Miss. Broderick, but seeing as how you do not have sufficient collateral, I must decline your application for a loan at this time.", the bored agent replies, as if this sort of thing happens all the time. I reach out and take the over sized packet, the thick material heavy in my palm.

"You are welcome to try again once you find someone with sufficient means who can co-sign on your behalf.", he adds. As if that would help the situation. I don't bother telling him that no one can help me. Instead, I smile, a fake smile, one that has become almost mechanic ever since I got the dreaded phone call.                                                                   

"I see. Well, thank you for your time.", I manage to say, even though I can feel my heart breaking in two with despair clutching in my gut.
  
       I stand up from the plush chair and find my footing. I walk in a daze past a line of people waiting for the teller, a scrawny guy who is busy helping someone over the phone. I push the large door open and button my blue petticoat up to my neck to keep me warm from the cold October wind. I look around, glad that I actually watched the news for a change before heading out of my apartment this morning. The sun is hidden behind a pool of grey clouds coming in from the West. It shouldn't be much longer before it starts to pour. Although, that type of weather is nothing unusual on this side of the coast. It seems befitting. Like the universe can feel my melancholy and is mourning along  with me. The young trees to the side of the building are swaying from the strength of the wind, a few branches hitting my shoulder as I walk on by.

         I step onto the sidewalk and hail for a yellow taxi, my brown hair getting caught in my mouth as I do so. I climb in the back and sit on the warm torn-up seat. "1345 PineView", I tell the driver automatically as I buckle my seat belt. 

         He starts the timer and puts the left blinker on as he enters the congested traffic. I lay back with my head leaning against the headrest and let out a long collective sigh. Well, so much for that. I thought darkly. I glance at the dashboard. 3:20. With any luck I'll make it just before the deadline that's hanging over my head like a lifesaver keeping me above ground.

        I take my cell phone out of the coat pocket and flip it open. Three missed calls. I wonder who it could be. I thought bitterly. I scroll down and notice the same number showing up three consecutive times. The latest one at 3:01. About the same time I was in the bank trying to save my shop from going under. I re-dial the all too familiar number and press the phone to my ear.
  
       On the second ring my lawyer and confidant, Andrew, answers with a sharp "Where the hell have you been?! Do you have any idea what time it is?", he demands in his deep baritone voice. A voice that, once consumed the appropriate amount of alcohol, sounds like an instrument sent straight from heaven. You can find out a lot about someone in a drunken game of karaoke. I guess that's why he wont go to Spade's Bar and Karaoke with me anymore. I roll my eyes and force myself to count in my head, not wanting to take my frustration out on him. It's not his fault that I'm on the verge of loosing everything.

"Hello?", I hear him say clearly from the other end of the line. I don't bother answering. Instead I count in my head, already feeling infinitely more relaxed than before. "Meagan, I know you're there....I can here you breathing....are you counting to ten?" he asks incredulously, although I have a sneaky suspicion that he already knows the answer.

 I let out a puff of air, my bangs blowing freely in my eyes, maybe I should get them cut. They're getting too long.

"No.", I finally manage to say. "I was trying to clear the ringing in my ears. Look, I'm on my way. Just stall for me will ya?", I tell him quickly. I shut my phone, not wanting to hear his voice any longer. I know he's just doing his job, but I cant deal with the Q and A right now, not when I'm still trying to process it all myself.
        
         Fletcher and Sons, a north coast based company in California, opened up a two-story bookstore that has a children's nursery, just one of the many services that I don't offer, and apparently serves the best mug of hot cocoa this side of the hub. I haven't been inside myself, but I've heard plenty from customers who end up never returning either because the jumping characters that greet the little children at story time, or for the free WiFi and drinks.
        
         In the midst of trying to keep my business afloat I have lost countless friends that have turned on me and I have even managed to accidentally kill my pet turtle, Rex. in my defense, I thought it was playing hide and seek, only later to find it lying upside down in his pirate toy chest. That's the last time I let Andrew convince me that I need a roommate.
        
         My children's bookshop on the corner of seventh and pine,  Topsy Turvey, can't compete with the likes of them and they're mass media advertisement. my loyal customer base has dwindled ever since the grand opening of Borderstone & Co. I can't even sit down on a park bench in peace without seeing their character advertisement that looks like some type of fox in a hole wearing glasses surrounded by books.  
        
         For the past three months I've been struggling to come up with the $17,000 in back rent. The bank finally had enough and gave me one week before they send someone over to close up shop. that was last Friday. Now it's Wednesday and I have until four this evening before the deal with Mr. Richard Fletcher, the eldest son from Fletcher and Sons, expires. For some reason they want to buy my shop before the bank takes it over. Andrew says even though they are strangely persistent with the banks deadline so close, its a deal that we cant pass up. I have nothing to loose. Besides, it couldn't possibly get any worse.    
        
         I'm not in denial, although my friends would seriously argue otherwise. I just know when I'm out of options and right now the only person that can guarantee I wont become bankrupt is the very man that got me in this mess in the first place.
        
         I message my temple with the stub of my finger. If anything, I wish I had something to soothe the continuous migraines that keep me up at night. 
        
         The taxi driver maneuvers the car and pulls up at the sidewalk. I can see the large building past the rows of elm trees in front of me that are swaying from side to side against the concrete wall. "1345 PineView.", he announces, stopping the timer for effect.
I grimace at the price.
"Fifty even.", he says in a demanding tone as if I were planning on stiffing him.         
         I take my wallet out and my mood turns sour. Great. I hand him my last fifty dollar bill to which he huffs appreciatively. I step out of the taxi, shutting the door on the way out. I turn away as the tires screech against the pavement, leaving behind a trail of black smoke in the air.   
        
         I walk up the short steps and onto the expansive concrete platform that has a miniature garden in the center with a circular fountain that is turned on and has crystal blue water flowing up in the air even though it's supposed to rain later on. The tall black twenty-five story building stands out among the other smaller offices in the area. Price and Wellington has the best lawyers that money can buy.

        Fortunately, Andy is taking my case pro bono, so long as I remember to get him something good for Christmas. I don't see why, the guy practically has one of everything. It certainly helps when you have a boyfriend whose a trust fund brat. The way I see it, I'm coming out way better in the deal.
        
         I hike my purse on my shoulder and push the swiveling door open until I am greeted by a petite receptionist who is saying something inaudible in her headset. I walk up to the massively lit black and green desk as her fingernails hit the keyboard at impressive speed. Now that I am up close and personal, I notice everything about her is strikingly average. She has a small round-ish shaped face with exotic caramel skin and long black hair pinned down in a braid. Her eyes are a dull green color that are traced with black eyeliner and complemented by thick eyelashes. She's wearing a black lace dress and a thin belt that accentuates her small waist. Once she notices my presence, the receptionist whose gold name tag says Katrina in black print, stops typing and smiles up at me.

 "Hello. Welcome to Price and Wellington. Do you have an appointment?" she asks sweetly.

"Hi. I'm Meagan Broderick and I have a 4:00 o'clock appointment with my lawyer, Andrew Brady.", I tell her.         

        She looks through her palm pilot and nods her head at me. "Of course", she says with a soft smile. "Give me one moment while I let the others know you have arrived.", she touches the headset and talks to someone named Vicky. After a quick moment she ends the call and looks at me with a pleased expression. 

"They're in conference room number two. It's jut down the hall to your right.", she informs me. "Would you like me to dispatch a guard who can assist you?", she asks.

I shake my head 'no' and thank her for her time. "I'll manage.", I tell her.         

        She smiles and sits back down at her seat when a new call gets transferred to her desk. I excuse myself quietly and walk along the empty hallway with offices that are either closed or empty until I come to a wooden door that has a large plaque saying conference room two. I take a deep breathe and knock three times before I reach for the chrome handle and push open the door.
        
         Six pairs of irritated eyes stare at me from the oval shaped glass table. I didn't think I was that late. I take an empty seat next to Andrew, who  looks about ready to strangle the brown-haired lawyer, who is wearing a snazzy three piece suite, with his dark purple tie. Well, this should be interesting. I thought halfheartedly.
                                                                            *****
        
         Not even twenty minutes have passed by and already I feel completely lost by all of the technical jargon that's being thrown back and forth between both of the lawyers sitting at the table. I can't be certain but Mr. Wellington, the guy sitting across from me who hasn't said one word since the meeting started, looks entirely indifferent about the entire situation. But what really annoys me is the fact that Richard Fletcher is M.I.A.

I mean, this whole meeting was his idea in the first place.  

"Mr. Fletcher was unable to make it.", was all that was said.
        
          Of course he couldn't make it. He must be too busy crushing other small-name business owners with his company and $25,000 an hour leech of a lawyer to back him up.        

        Mr. Wellington is a relatively tall man with brown messy hair that's styled back from his calculating dark blue eyes. When his lawyer, Mr. Zimmerman says something that catches his attention, he takes out a titanium pen from his pinstriped suit and twists it open, handing it over with a nod. Everything about Mr. Wellington screams business tycoon. It makes me sick.   

"As I was saying, if you would just sign at the appropriate places then we can makes this official.", Mr. Zimmerman says       

         Andrew takes the papers and looks them over before nodding and handing them to me. I sign where the X marks are, right across from Drew Wellingtons' neat signature. I slide it back to Andrew, who signs below my name on the highlighted lines before giving it back to Mr. Zimmerman, who then hands us our copy of the legal papers. 

"To complete our end of the deal here is the deed to Miss.Broderick's shop, effectively making it yours, Mr. Wellington.", Andrew says, handing over the blue and white paper that was once mounted on my wall, back when I thought I had no trouble keeping up with the big boys.

How wrong I was.
        
         Mr. Wellington smiles and puts his copy of the paperwork, along with the deed to the shop in his black leather briefcase. He stands up and sticks out a well manicured hand in front of me. "It was a pleasure doing business with you." I do the only thing that I can. I stand up along with him and shake his large hand in a firm grip."Likewise.", I tell him, ignoring the dry sensation tickling in my throat from lack of speaking for nearly thirty minutes.
        
         I wait while Andrew gives a strong handshake to both men. He then grabs his brief case and faces me with a knowing look in his twinkling blue eyes. I pretend not to notice and follow Andy as he shows both of the men out. We say our goodbyes to the receptionist who smiles and wishes us a good evening. Even though she is just being polite, I wish people would stop acting like the world is so great. It makes me want to throw up the dry toast and fruit I had for breakfast. Ahead of us, Mr. Wellington and his lawyer are walking in long strides towards the parking lot. Now that they have what they want, they re most likely planning to expand their bookshop around the entire city. At least that's what Andrew says.
I never want to see them again.
        
         The sound of the water bubbling in the fountain is soothing to my nerves and echoes in the otherwise empty garden. The colorful flowers are swaying from the harsh wind with a few petals floating in the air.    
 
"I'm so sorry, princess.", Andrew starts, breaking the silence. I look at him from the corner of my eye. He's standing proudly with straight shoulders but his eyes tell a different story. "I know that shop was your baby." he tries to console me.
        
         I don't bother telling him to save his breath. Nothing can console me. Nothing, but a bottle of whiskey and maybe a carton of soggy noodles.       

         Andrew sighs irritably and shakes his head, his blonde hair flapping in the wind. "I know you wanted to hang out, but Eli is sick and is requesting that I take care of him. The big baby." he adds and rolls his eyes in a way that only Eli can make him do.
        
         I laugh weakly at his antics. This sort of thing happens a lot. As much as Andrew acts like he cant stand the thought of having to take care of a full grown man, he loves being needed. its why he chose to be a prominent lawyer in the first place. Those two are always seen together. Even if it's doing remedial things like grocery shopping.
        
           I place a hand on his shoulder, which isn't a tough feat since he's shorter than me. "I understand. Tell the Chancellor to get better for me?" I ask.
He air kisses my cheeks. "Of course darling! When he gets better we should do something." he insists.         

         I just nod and walk beside him, out of the garden and down the four steps that lead to the street. "Ta-ta!" Andrew waves and heads to the garage across the street where he parked his white Mercedes. He's the only person I know that has a car and uses it. "Darling, why walk when you can drive?", he once said when we first me. My crazy best friend who is a shark of a lawyer but underneath those tailored suits is a complete teddy bear, all soft and cuddly. Eli is lucky to have him.
  
       I start walking downhill towards Park Avenue. I avoid bumping into strangers in the bustling crowd as I walk along the sidewalk, my purse falling off my shoulder every so often. Fed up with the shoulder strap I clutch the round purse in my arms and continue on with my destination. Known as the shopping centre mecca for the average bored housewife, Park Avenue has clothing boutiques and chandelier stores that glitter in color.

        I walk past the glass shops and head across the street where Park Avenue turns into Fourth Street. I walk down the steep hill at a slow yet comfortable pace, which forces the passerby's to step around me in order to get by. I smile at that. It's like I'm in my own personal bubble that repents anyone from coming in close contact with me. My stomach growls angrily and for a moment I am caught off guard. I haven't managed to keep anything down for the past few days. Once the intoxicating smell of garlic and sesame hits my nose, my stomach responds appreciatively. I stop in front of the red and golden restaurant in the shape of a Chinese wonton bowl. It certainly stands out among the more dainty shops in the neighborhood. I open the red door and the gold bell jingles, alerting the host that someone has entered the restaurant and is need of assistance. A young man with dark hair that falls in his eyes every so often greets me from behind the podium. 

"Hello. Table for one?" he asks.

I nod my head. "Please."

         He grabs a menu and leads me past the fish tank and deep into the restaurant where people are eating and drinking to their hearts content, completely at ease with one another and unwinding from a long days worth. The host heads over to a side booth on the left. "Actually, if you don't mind, I would like to sit at the bar.", I tell him.

He looks puzzled for a moment but nods anyway. "Of course." he says.

        I walk past a table of young women who are sharing a meal of fried fish with steamed rice and lemon grass chicken. The combining scent of fresh fish and lemon hitting me instantly. I continue on my way to the bar and plop a seat on a free stool. The waiter hands me a menu with a smile. "Here you go."
"Thanks." I say, even though I don't need it.

         Once he leaves I swivel in my seat and wave to catch the bartenders attention. 

"A shot of whiskey, please." I order. He nods and grabs the bottle, pouring a good amount in a shot glass before handing it to me.

         I smile as I life the glass full of the brown liquid. I don't need Andrew, I'm fine on my own.        

And tonight, I'm going to have a good time. It's not like I have a job to get ready for in the morning. I thought sourly.