Appeal Denied

2015-NYC-10: Motion to Unseal

August 5, 2015

The passes arrived via messenger the next morning.

"I need Ms. Vanessa Brains to sign for it," the voice said.

"And I'm telling you we don't have anyone here with that name. We have a Vanessa, but her last name isn't Brains," I heard the floor secretary speaking as she approached my office. The exchange drew a small crowd who gathered outside my door, curious about the excitement.

Rolling my eyes, I stood up. My last name was on the documents we'd signed last night, and he snapped a photo of the contract, so why he felt the need to send the tickets to "Vanessa Brains" was beyond me. He was the biggest dork. But worse, he was drawing attention to something that was supposed to be under wraps.

"I'll sign for the package," I used my most authoritarian tone, taking the clipboard from the bicycle delivery boy and scrawling a signature on the line. The guy smiled warily as he passed over the envelope.

"What is it?" Amber stood on her tiptoes behind me, trying to see over my shoulder.

"I haven't opened it yet," I said, entering my office and tossing the envelope to the side as I returned to working on the contract in front of me.

"Duh. Open it." She was persistent, and I knew she wouldn't leave until I gave her some inkling of what was in the mysterious package.

Attempting to placate her, I commented, "It's probably just a small token of appreciation from that client I helped last week."

"Mhm," she crossed her arms, tapping her foot. "Open it, bitch."

Sometimes Amber scares me, so I did as she asked, using my letter opener to slit the envelope. Inside was a single piece of paper with a handwritten note on it. Unfolding the note, I picked up the two lanyards that fell out and read the scrawl. "Come see me. - H"

Not "us". "Me". It made me smile.

Amber had pounced, grabbing the lanyards from my hand and squealing. I used the distraction to fold Harry's note and tuck it away where she wouldn't get her hands on it. "We're going to see One Direction tonight!" When she examined the passes more closely, her high pitched squeal got louder and more high pitched.

"Oh holy cannoli, Van! These are VIP tickets! We even get Meet and Greet!" She was jumping up and down. "I get to meet the blond one and hug him!"

With the elation, it appeared that she forgot to ask the hard questions like why I had received these, and I took the opportunity to practice my fifth amendment rights by not providing any explanation whatsoever.

"Ummmm....who said you were going with me?" I playfully demanded.

Stunned, her mouth dropped open, and she swiveled to face me. "Who else are you going to take?"

I laughed, and she started dancing around my office, singing at the top of her lungs one of the songs we'd heard the boys perform the previous day when she froze.

"What am I going to wear!?"

The level of freakout was definitely not proportional to the actual question. She rushed out of my office, racing to her own in order to plan her wardrobe, I guess. For me, the decision was a simple one: blue jeans and a t-shirt. It was going to be hot outside, and I knew I would need to be as cool as possible with Harry on stage in front of me, his animal magnetism at full force. Wolves across the country would likely howl when they caught his scent. The entirety of the female population would go into heat when he stepped on stage.

I wish I could say I was the exception.

Later that evening, dressed in my ripped jeans with a simple black t-shirt, I smiled as I put on my VIP lanyard and winked at my colleague who had decided to go with a completely different outfit. The skintight dress Amber wore hugged every curve like a Lamborghini on a racetrack. The pattern was bright and colorful. And she'd chosen to wear heels. My sneakers, though brand new, looked out of place next to her. I wasn't at the show to make friends and influence people, though. I was there simply because Harry had invited me.