Sierra Lancaster has had an agonizingly mediocre life. She grew up in a happy home, made loyal friends, graduated college, and is now pursuing her dream of running her own bakery. Boring, right? A story like this wouldn't be one for the books. At le...
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This building is fancy as shit.
I suddenly feel severely under-dressed in my cute but sensible spring outfit. May is coming to an end and Summer is right around the corner which means it's getting hotter and hotter everyday. I thought my blush pink dress—with big black polka dots, sweetheart neckline, short puff sleeves, and the hem brushing a couple of inches above my knees—was a cute outfit choice until I walked in here. Everyone is walking around in suits and pencil skirts and I get curious looks as I make my way to the front desk. This isn't awkward at all. Nope, nope.
"Hi," I greet the woman manning the front desk and she whips up a finger before I can get another word. Damn. Okay. It's an oddly threatening finger. I mean, she's legit wielding it like it's a sword. I lean back a little.
I look around as I wait. The main floor is huge, with freaking black marbled tiles shiny enough to show me my own reflection. The ceiling is high-rise and dome-shaped and is several feet above our heads. Black pillars adorn each end of the four walls for decoration and it makes this place look more like a museum than a sports agency building. But the big giveaway is the decor. Images of famous sports players in their prime are framed and hung up. The choice of interior colour just screams testosterone, all black with the occasional accents of grey. It even smells like expensive cologne in here and my nose crinkles against the strong scent.
"How can I help you?" The woman's jadedly asked question grabs my attention again. Her face is an open book as her eyes roam me. I can tell she thinks I'm a total ditz, all dressed up in pink and carrying a box of cinnamon rolls. My high ponytail is starting to feel childish too and it doesn't help at all that I'm a blonde. Still, I roll with it because it doesn't hurt to indulge in some fun.
"Hi," I make my voice super obnoxious. "I'm, like, looking for Holden Rey? He didn't call yesterday like he promised so he probably just forgot. We did have an amazing night, after all."
The woman nods sympathetically, lips pinched tight. "Sure. Yeah. You got an appointment?"
"Totally! Sierra Lancaster, at your service." I do a mock-salute.
The woman scrubs a hand over her face tiredly as she clicks away at her screen. "That's you. Head on up to the fifth floor and his PA will take it from there. Do you...need help getting there?"
Wow. I must be doing a killer job. I hold back a snort and shake my head solemnly. "I can manage. I think. I once got lost in a grocery aisle because I thought condiments were where the condoms are. Like, why would you give two different things the same name? Isn't that just the worst?"
"Uh-huh." Her smile thins even more so and her eyes are practically begging for help. My lungs burn with the effort not to laugh. "Here's your visitor's pass. Elevators are on your right."
I take the card from her and wave it in the air. "I'm official! How exciting!"
That gets me another terse nod and wave. I decide to take her out of her misery and skip over to the elevators, knowing she's still watching. Man, I'm good. I should consider acting if the bakery doesn't pan out.
