Employed Epoch Of Alex Brook | Book 1| Humor-Romance (Completed)

1. THIS IS HOW WE DO!

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Chapter 1: THIS IS HOW WE DO!

Alex's pov:

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I expected pleasant memories, nostalgic reminders and familiarity of the same old surroundings to cure my homesick heart after returning to the house I grew up in, but all I got was loud, boisterous surrounding with my brother and his friend raiding the kitchen (I can't believe he's thirty) and my parents constant bantering which was cute but annoying.

I had found refuge in my familiar room, that reeked of cardboard since I never bothered myself with the act of unpacking. It was pointless anyway, I was going to move soon.

I only had the bare minimum necessities out, that included some of my clothes, my toiletries, my laptop that I was currently working on and my charger.

"Alexandra!" my mom yelled. Again.

Gaah!!

Instead of turning a deaf ear towards her, I groaned like a drunk walrus, slammed my laptop shut and like a petulant child, made my way towards the living room. It was nearing lunch hour, and my mother had yet again managed to lock herself in between various dilemmas and lost track of time, as she continued to work. My mom is a hard-working woman who takes her work seriously even if half the time she's working from home. Her face doesn't show her age but her work experience can speak volumes.

I saw that she was surrounded by various floral samples, she was dressed in a pale coral blouse paired with flared black pants, as she sat cross-legged in the middle of them all with the nervous florist, staring with perplex at the two bundles of overpriced blossoming buds of inflorescence which she presumably shortlisted. Mom glanced up at my arrival, and smiled at me calmly, as if she wasn't just banshee-ing my name through the whole city, and questioned, "Which one do you think?"

I scanned the options she had presented and I almost automatically pointed towards the white bunch, simply because the other bunch was pink, and no I don't hate pink, I just am...scared of it. Ahem...so, many-many years ago, when my older brother Kyle was a little delicate dandelion, I had an utterly harrowing experience, one which maimed me for life. During my preschool days, Kyle was in the drama club, which came as a surprise to no one, seeing as he was the biggest drama queen to ever ruin my perspective on theatre.

I remember that day with terrifying clarity when he participated in the school drama, he was playing a character from the fruit bowl. Boring I know...anyway, he was a bright-pink talking obese strawberry- who drank strawberry milkshake (talk about cannibalism), had pink makeup on, along with a preppy pink spotlight. Zero points for aesthetics.

Imagine my torment when he stood there on the stage gleefully acting while looking less like a strawberry, and more like an oversized pink-pelican, as he single pink-handily destroyed my fondness towards a certain harmless secondary colour. That was the first time I realised that my big brother was a lot more lamer than I thought. And even though he had managed to pull himself out of the murky labyrinth of those black (pink) days, I never could. Hence, the everlasting pink phobia.

I plastered a fake smile on my lips while asking "Is that all?" Tempted to add a sarcastic and very British "mother?" At the end of my sentence but managed to hold back.

I resisted an urge to do a happy twirl when she dismissed me and sighed instead. Being the daughter of a famous event planner is hard.

Mom has occupied herself again with another one of her 'big' clients and she keeps calling for me every two minutes or three to help her pick stuff cause she believes that I have an exquisite authentic eye for detail. Why does she think that? I had no idea. I have tried telling her countless times that I suck at planning anything. Oh, and also, I most definitely do not have an 'exquisite authentic eye for detail.' whatever the hell that meant. But she just wouldn't believe me.