Chapter 1 #2
Javier could just barely hear someone answer before Mr. White roared, “How dare you?” The voice on the other end of the line said something, but Mr. White went on.
“This is unforgivable. How dare you send some glittering fool into my place of business to serenade me with your asinine, gaslighting drivel!”
Javier felt like he’d been punched in the gut and shrunk to half his size. He wanted to turn and run, save himself from the tsunami, but as with all train wrecks, he could only stand there, frozen and glittery, balls shriveling in his nappy, glued to the ground.
“We broke up for a reason, Matthew,” Mr. White continued to shout into the phone.
“This is exactly the reason. Your inappropriate, over-the-top gestures have only ever been self-serving. All you ever did was take, take, take from me, and you’re still taking.
You don’t love me and you never did, you only love yourself. ”
He paused for breath, and once again, Javier could hear the voice on the other end of the call, even if he couldn’t make out the words.
He peeked sideways at the door, wondering if he could make a break for it.
As he did, he spotted Alan standing there with a look of horror, as if his personal sense of romance had just been shattered.
“I don’t care what you have to say,” Mr. White raged on.
“I said everything I could the other night. I will not see you this Saturday or next Saturday or any day at all. I am through with the clinging and the emotional torture. You are toxic, Matthew, and you always have been. I am and I always will be done with you. The sooner you accept that and move on, the better it will be for everyone. Goodbye.”
He yanked the phone away from his ear and stabbed the screen to end the call.
Javier was so tempted to breathe a sigh of relief, but of course it was much, much too early for that.
“And you,” Mr. White turned his wrath on Alan. “You let this…this man into my office.”
Mr. White glanced quickly to Javier, then back to Alan, but then his gaze shot straight back to Javier. It held there for a moment and his pupils dilated as he really looked. It was absolutely not the moment for Javier to preen and congratulate himself for being mad fit. And glittery.
The split-second of attraction vanished like a shattered sweet.
“You’re fired, Alan,” Mr. White snapped, back on his warpath.
“I’m what?” Alan gasped.
Mr. White stood. “Sacked. Terminated. Your services are no longer required. You know that Matthew and I are over. You know that it was a bad split. I ordered you not to allow him back into this office or to accept any sort of call from him.”
“But…but this isn’t a call. Matthew didn’t come into the office,” Alan scrambled to defend himself. “This is…it’s not….”
“You’re fired,” Mr. White repeated. “You will pack up your desk and be out of this building within the hour. I’m calling security to confiscate your badge and escort you out.”
Javier nearly groaned at the direction the whole fiasco had taken. He was about to be escorted from one of London’s most iconic buildings in the middle of the day…while dressed as Cupid and wearing next to nothing.
Mr. White looked like he had more to say to Alan, but before he could, Javier cleared his throat. When Mr. White looked at him, he quietly said, “If it’s alright with you, I’ll just go now.”
“Yes, go,” Mr. White said, curt and definitely angry.
Like a kid who had just walked in on his parents shagging, Javier tip-toed out of the office, feeling sick to his stomach, and snatched up his carry-all. What an absolute nightmare. What a complete and utter cock-up. Not just the singing telegram, but his entire existence.
He reached an all-time low as he hurried back through the warren of office corridors, getting lost at one point and stepping right into the cube farm where half the lower-level employees of the financial services company could see him, before turning and running for the nearest restroom.
It was somehow fitting that he snapped one of his wings as he dove through the door.
At least it was empty. He would probably laugh about the whole thing later, but as he fumbled with the clasps of the harness keeping his wings on then shrugged out of it, dropping them to the floor, he felt nothing but bone-deep, awful humiliation.
There were only a handful of good things that could be said about the situation as he ducked into one of the toilet stalls with his bag to change into his street clothes.
He’d secured payment in advance from Matthew the Ex.
He’d escaped Mr. White’s office with all his belongings, even if he didn’t have his pride.
He could now learn from experience and not accept any more cheap, cheesy gigs, no matter how desperate he was to bring income into the agency. He wasn’t the one who had been fired.
They were small comforts. There were so many things about the situation that were awful.
He didn’t have the time or baby wipes to clean the glitter from his body as he dressed in jeans and a plain, white shirt.
Glitter was as merciless as an ex who didn’t want to get back together, and by the time Javier left the restroom, carry-all in one hand and broken wings in the other, glitter was everywhere.
He was certain he left a trail of the stuff as he took the lift down to the ground floor then trudged across the lobby.
Of course, he had another blow before he made it halfway across the large, marble and chrome foyer. His phone rang, and as soon as he saw Maisy’s name, he was ready to give up.
“Hello, Maisy,” he answered with a tired sigh after fumbling to get his phone close to his ear with everything he carried.
“Javier,” Maisy began, “I have some bad news. The director of the Cheltenham shoot doesn’t like Olivia, but we don’t have anyone else who meets his requirements under contract. We’re going to have to pass on that job.”
Javier wanted to scream. There was nothing wrong with Olivia. The fashion world was so fucking fickle. The agency needed that job badly.
“Don’t tell them we have to pass yet,” he said as he continued across the lobby. “Let me see what I can figure out.”
“Alright, boss, but we don’t have the people,” Maisy said, ever the ray of sunshine.
“I’ll come up with something, I promise,” he said. Maisy started to protest, but Javier said, “I’ll be back in the office later. This job has gone pear-shaped, and I have to go home and clean up.”
“Well, if you must,” Maisy sighed. “See you soon.”
The call ended, and Javier stepped out onto the street. More than a few people turned to look at him and his feathery burden as he marched along the front of the building, heading to the large bin he’d spotted at the corner when he’d entered the building.
He reached it and threw the broken wings straight in with far more vigor than he should have, but at that point, he was beyond caring. “Good riddance,” he said, then turned to march back down the street, heading for the nearest Tube station.
Three steps later and the skies opened up, turning the light mist that had pervaded London into a sudden downpour. Javier stopped where he was, shoulders slumping, cursing the day he’d been born.
He would have cut his losses and marched on, quickly getting drenched to the bone, if a sleek limousine hadn’t pulled up to the curb right in front of him. Javier could only stare at it, wondering what fresh new hell awaited him.
He was shocked beyond speech when one of the back windows rolled down and none other than Mr. Desmond White leaned forward to ask, “Could I give you a ride somewhere?”