Entrapped . HS

FIVE.

I pulled up to the corner, getting ready to turn and go into the garage when who did I see getting out of a car in front of the building? None other than my 'I don't do the morning after' assistant. I made sure to stare long enough that she could feel me watching her and it worked. Her eyes found mine and she stiffened and ducked inside. The light turned and I drove into the garage.

We met at the elevator in the main lobby and I made mention of her wearing the same pants she was wearing yesterday. Yes, I did occasionally notice those things, especially when they were a good fit like these were in contrast to her cheaper ones. She seemed to squirm a little at my comment. Then, after the doors closed I decided to make her squirm even more. "So, you stayed with Finn?"

"Can we not? I know you saw him drop me off, but let's pretend that little drive of shame didn't happen." Drive of shame?

"Why? Because you don't want to admit that you stayed? Are you embarrassed of him?" The door opened and she left without answering- at first. Then, halfway down the hallway she said, "wouldn't you like to know?" over her shoulder. Yes. I actually would. I could tell that she wasn't in the mood to talk, though, and to be honest, I wasn't really in the mood to talk either. We (the Sinclair team) had an author that was pretty needy and I'd been asked to take an author visit with her to calm her nerves. I was not good at calming nerves when I didn't know the first thing about how to answer most of the questions she was going to ask me. Which meant I'd have to bring Tate. One a plane. To Seattle. Needless to say, I was trying to get out of it before I had to take drastic measures like that.

Around 4:15pm, I left my office and changed to go to the studio. "Drop my suit off? At Henley's," I asked, laying the suit on her desk. This didn't go over well last time, but I thought I did a better job of asking nicely this time. I was wrong.

"I don't do dry-cleaning, Harris. Even if I did, you didn't ask me to do it. You just told me to do it." Her anger with me made me pissed, so of course I bit back.

"Well, you work until 5:00pm. As my assistant. Right now, I need assistance getting this suit to the cleaner so I'm not late to the studio."

"I'll do it, if I can come in at 9:00am tomorrow," she negotiated.

"Fine."

"And if you ASK me. Nicely."

"Please. Bring. My. Suit. To. Henley's. I need the zipper replaced on the pants. Then, it can be cleaned. You have my card."

"I do." She hopped up from her desk, gathering her things with my dry cleaning. I took off before she turned her lamp off, and she said goodbye. "See you at nine!"

I walked to the elevator wearing a smile because I had won that little battle and it felt good. I turned and propped myself up on the back of the elevator, then looked back at Wyatt and said, "say 'hi' to Finn," before the door closed.

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The drive to the studio only took about twenty minutes, which wasn't terrible considering it was rush hour. I got there and one of the other artists was finishing up their day, so I greeted him before tuning out the world by putting in my airPods. I pulled up the design on my laptop and readied my clay and gathered my tools. By the time I sat down to actually start working, I was alone in the space again. That meant I could blast my music from the old record player in the corner instead of directly into my eardrums.

The musical workings of Peter Gabriel filled the space, echoing off the high ceilings. My hands became familiar with the clay again, and I went into a trance of creating. I didn't move from my spot until I heard the scratch at the end of side A while I finished the sixth plate. I walked over to the record player and flipped the vinyl, downed a water bottle and made another seven plates before the last track ended on side B.