Prim

0.1 - [Part One]

Wednesday, January 18th of 2017

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Penelope Prescott, the little thing that she was, felt just a tad overwhelmed in the much-too-spacious elevator.
Even more so when the metal death trap released her into the foyer of her father's cold penthouse.

The place was quite emotionless. It was clean, white and light gray pin straight lines. Not one speck of color seeped into the place. It felt impersonal and untouchable, but Penelope shortly remembered that her mother had designed the place from floor to ceiling, and if it was possible, her mother's personality was ingrained in the barren walls.

Penelope thought back to her apartment, only five floors below this one, and just how different they were.
Penelope's held spunk, with Aloe and Green Tea walls, to the mass of black that she claimed her chalkboard wall, to the electric red record player that always seemed to be playing an old Fleetwood Mac hit or a new Kings of Leon single, and then to the massive hanging pod chair that had a mustard afghan thrown in it.

It was so personal.

She had frames filled with her brothers or her friends inhabiting every nook and cranny that had yet to be filled.

She was much like her father, passionate and vibrant with lots of unfulfilled dreams (although, that never kept her from adding another to the pile).

Penelope just simply could not understand how her father could live in a place that didn't feed his hungry spirit.
How in the world could he thrive in such a dead atmosphere?

She slowly reached the one place where her father's dreams occurred, his office.

Pictures of her and her brothers covered over the forest green colored walls. He had once said that it reminded him of his time spent in the state of Washington, and how fond he was of the atmosphere.

A large, intricately carved, mahogany desk sat directly in the middle of the octagon shaped room, behind it sat Penelope's father. He had always had deep laugh lines, but here lately, she noticed that his hair at his temples was fading from the once jet black into a dull gray, and the bright-eyed look in his hazel irises had been noticeably dim.

She was her father inside and out, and if this is what the crippling enterprise was doing to him, she wanted no part of it.

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Oswald Prescott took a good look at his prized miracle.
She possessed as much light as the sun at the hottest point in the day.
Her shoulder-length mahogany tresses curved around her youthful face, and a pair of large vintage glasses sat atop her pale white skin.
His heart could burst with all of the love he had for his only little girl with the same hazel eyes as his own.

He worried about her immensely, as she often took spontaneous trips in the middle of the night for the sake of, 'living,' she had said when he had reprimanded her. She had just surpassed her teenage years, and like everything else that was like him, she had his streak of spontaneity.

Which led Oswald to his next issue.

As an heiress to one of the wealthiest companies in the United States, as well as a well-known best-selling author, she was a highly sought after and beloved figure in the media that was constantly hot on her tail.

She was lovely and genuine, but vulnerable.

Oswald worried immensely about her safety as she went out and battled the New York City crowd, so he had assigned a bodyguard who grew to be Penelope's best friend, Erikson.

He knew she was terribly distraught about him leaving to become a full time dad, and although she was happy for him, Oswald knew she missed him and her freedom.

He knew that not having a bodyguard meant not being allowed to go out, which he also knew dimmed her bright, vibrant light, and he'd be damned if he didn't fix it as soon as possible.

Therefore he had accumulated a stack of applicants willing to take the high profile, incredibly dangerous job to protect the best thing that had ever came into his life.

They were all partner-less because an immediate family would require attention that the bodyguard had to focus on Penn.

They were to live with her and attend to her everywhere she traveled, so unfortunately, the final decision was hers, much to Oswald's displeasure.

"Penelope, we only have two more days to find a replacement for Erikson. Choose or I will choose for you," Oswald said, seemingly strict.

He handed her the stack of blank faces, one of which would soon become a large figure in Penelope's life.

He watched as she hesitantly flipped through the bundled stack.

Minutes later, she came to a halt on a certain face, he wasn't sure which.

"I wish to meet him," she said, finality in her tone as she handed him the picture.

"You didn't pick anyone else?"

Of course, he thought, of course she would pick the shaggiest competitor, the underdog.

"Just him," Penelope said as she stood to her full height.

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