Chapter 11: The Workaholic of Wall Street

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New York. The 11th state is a young man who's often confused for America due to their similar appearances. However, their personalities differ. He's known for his blunt remarks, often coming off as rude to anybody outside his home. His temper is especially well-known to where it's affecting his reputation, mostly in a negative light. To be fair, his temper has come from the stress of his vital role to America and the rest of the world. And one such role is his financial ties.

Ever since the Dutch introduce him to the trade, he has become one of the leading financial and trade centers of the world. Sure, Wall Streets has its critics, and York has come under fire for his ties to many of Wall Street's richest assholes. But without a doubt, he plays an important role in not only his own economy, but the nation's and the world's as well, forcing a ton of weight on his shoulders which can be much for one state to handle.

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"Yooooork!"

"What now, Cali?"

"Can you, like, stop working?"

"Only if you stop annoying me," he grumbled.

New York was currently busy filing reports on his desktop while scheduling business meetings on his phone. The workaholic was close to passing out if it weren't for his coffee, undeniably relying on caffeine like a blood fusion. Ah, coffee: You can sleep when you're dead.

While working in his home office, California was staying over at his condo during Fashion Week. Being the fabulous fashionista she was, she wanted to see the Spring/Summer 2016 collection, so she can pre-order the latest designs to wear for next year. Since her arrival, she had been a constant thorn to the Empire State, constantly chatting about gossip on celebrities and any recent episode of a popular TV show. If she were to mention Kylie Jenner one more time, York was going to lose his mind.

For some reason, Cali decided to pass the time in York's home office instead of, I don't know, anywhere else in York's apartment. She laid on a white couch about fifteen feet away from York's desk. She was browsing through Instagram, occasionally giggling at whatever she found funny on her rose gold iPhone's screen. Leia, Cali's pampered Kyi-Leo, was taking a nap on her owner's stomach while, Rosy, York's cute Yorkshire Terrier, slept at the other end of the sofa. Despite being constantly told to go away, the idling Californian had yet to leave the busy New Yorker alone.

She sighed. "Come on, York. Get that sore butt off that chair, and join me this weekend for Fashion Week. It'll be fun going together. What do you say?" she asked him for the eleventh time.

"Not interested," he muttered as he typed faster on the keyboard.

Saturday was a busy day for him. Ten hours full of work if he was lucky. As for Sunday, he mostly spent that time catching up on sleep. Honestly, his main priority is getting the job done. It was more important than watching a line of tall, gorgeous models stroll down a catwalk in random, trendy outfits. Then again, it didn't mean it was all the more attractive to do.

He sighed. "Look. I'm busy this weekend, so can you stop asking me that question?"

She puffed her cheeks. "Oh, come on! I swear you're always busy. Your eyes are going to turn white like a zombie if you stare at that screen any longer."

He stopped typing. "Uh-huh. Says the woman who watches meme compilations all afternoon," he noted in a sarcastic manner. "Just stop asking me that question. I have better things to do than check out clothes and models. It's a waste of time anyway."

"It's not a waste of time!" she stubbornly huffed. "As your best girl-"

"You're not my best girl."

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