Chapter 36
Everdream
Fenella
Another week passes, and we reach the end of January. Laird is supposed to rest for another month, but he insists on going to New York. The first reason is that he can’t stand being home with his father anymore. The second reason is he can’t help missing me.
I giggle in joy as I recall how Laird whines like a child about wanting to go to New York.
He doesn’t want to be separated from me.
He keeps saying he can’t fully rest in New York, but that doesn’t stop him.
And Golden calls us several times asking for written testimony.
After ignoring him twice, we finally answer the official summons on the third call.
“Why are you smiling?” Laird’s voice pulls me out of my reverie. He leans in to look at my face from the front. His forehead wrinkles and his eyes narrow suspiciously.
“Oh, no, nothing.” I clear my throat to shake off thoughts of how wonderful it is to stay with Laird all day.
This whole week is fantastic for us. We relax in the apartment, then walk together every morning and evening around the park. During the day, we have picnics, buy bread or dinner, or drop clothes at the laundry, all together.
I’m happy, but there’s a knot in my throat every time I think about us going back to real life again. Laird will go back to work as usual, and I’ll be busy with projects with Jessy. There will be no more alone time like this.
“We’re here,” Laird says.
He knocks on the door at the end of the hallway.
The door opens, and a man in a worn-out black suit stands in front of us, probably Golden’s assistant.
We step inside a messy room, piles of documents everywhere.
There’s only one small space left for us to sit in the corner of a table that’s also full of papers.
“Ah, you’ve come. Took you long enough to answer the call. I almost issued a warrant.” Golden chuckles as he motions for us to sit.
“I’m still recovering, old man. You pressured my bleeding stomach wound yourself.” Laird shakes his head and smirks at him.
“But Fenella isn’t recovering, is she?”
“We’re in this together or not at all,” he replies.
“Yes, we’re a package deal,” I add.
“Yeah, right.” The man snorts. “Well, I don’t need much from you today. I just need your written testimony for the trial.”
“Questions.” I raise my hand low.
“Yes,” Golden nods.
“Does that mean we’re testifying at the trial?”
“Are you deaf? I just said that.” Golden frowns with an exasperated sigh.
“Hey, watch your mouth. We’re unpaid here,” Laird growls.
“Oh, bullshit. Don’t think I don’t know about the bonus money she kept. We’re not paying you, but I’m not pressing to confiscate that money either.” Golden laughs and waves his hand.
“How did you know?” Laird asks.
“Matthew told me.” Golden straightens his shoulders.
“Then how could Matthew tell you? He’s usually so secretive about limited conversations.” Laird crosses his arms.
“He’s paid as an informant now for the office.”
“Excuse me? You used to hate how he gathered information. That’s why you kicked him out of this office.” Laird furrows his brow deeper.
“As an assistant prosecutor, yes, I disagreed with his illegal methods. But now that he’s hired as an unofficial informant, we don’t have to take responsibility for anything illegal he does.” Golden sneers and shrugs.
“How convenient for your selfish ass.” Laird snorts.
“Do you want me to kick your sorry ass out of this office too?”
“I can walk my ass out of here myself.”
“Hey, enough!” I call out, cutting their feud. “What is your problem? Yesterday you two were cooperating and caring about each other. Today you’re back to being like dogs and cats.” I scoff and laugh in disbelief. Golden is almost fifty, and Laird is half his age, yet they argue nonstop.
“Yesterday is history.” They say it at the exact same time.
Laird blinks, while Golden’s face twists in irritation. Before they start again, I pick up the only glass jar of cookies on the table.
“Can we have some of this, please?” I interrupt with a big, forced laugh.
“I can get you some tea.” Golden’s assistant stands up with a nervous look.
“Oh, yeah, tea would be nice. Thank you,” I tell him. He rushes to the table near the hot water dispenser.
Golden and Laird fall silent. The old man taps his fingers on the table, while Laird rubs his just-shaven jaw. My interruption works just enough to remind them the world doesn’t revolve around them.
“Hey, wait a minute.” I frown as I inspect the jar in my hand. “I know this jar and these cookies.” The lid is decorated with a red ribbon. “Are these the cookies my mom made? Why are they heart-shaped?” I narrow my eyes at Golden.
“Ah. Are you flirting with her mom?” Laird spreads a wicked grin.
“I’m not. It’s her way of saying thanks to everybody. She said she gave cookies to Jessy and Matthew too,” Golden stammers defensively.
“But yours is different from Jessy’s. His cookies are round and normal. Yours are heart-shaped with different colors of chocolate chips.” I set the jar back on the table.
“I’m sure Matthew has the same as mine.” He scowls.
I study the man’s face closely. There’s definitely redness on both cheeks. His pale skin doesn’t hide the blush at all.
“Shit,” Laird mutters.
“It’s nothing. Come on, let’s start with the testimony. Whether you like it or not, you’re testifying in court on my side. Period.”
“You’re in denial.” Laird snorts.
“Are you done with the tea yet? Let’s finish their testimony.” Golden turns to his assistant, dodging the accusation. The assistant hurries back with a tray of three hot teas.
“I’m on it.” He sets the cups down, returns the tray, then brings a laptop to our table.
“Now, answer my questions, take home a printed copy, and memorize it before the trial.” Golden’s voice turns serious again.
* * *
“Alright, so what should we consider?”
I tuck a few strands of hair behind my ear. My pen moves as I write down every point we’ve been discussing all day. I make a checklist to keep myself on track with everything we need.
“Ready? First, you gotta legally register the company.”
Laird says it while his emerald green eyes move between me and Jessy. He’s on the couch this time, letting me handle the scribbling, which is the opposite of the usual.
“What do we need to prepare to apply?” I ask.
“I think the first thing is to decide on a company name,” Jessy says.
“Well, if you wanna get that detailed, then yeah, pick a name first.” Laird nods.
“Gene?” I suggest.
“No. Gene’s company still belongs to Alan. You can’t use the same name,” Laird says. His tone is gentle, but the rejection hits immediately.
“What about New Gene? Like the whole New Normal thing?” I try again.
Jessy reels back dramatically, like I just suggested naming the company after a sewer rat. “Are you serious? You wanna tattoo that man’s name on your life again? No thank you. I’m allergic.” He crosses his arms into an X and scrunches his whole face like he smells poison.
“Ugh, fine, something else,” I say, blowing hair out of my face.
“365,” Jessy suggests.
“All Seasons,” Laird says.
“FB,” I say.
We toss name after name, none of them landing. After minutes stuck like we’re trying to name a baby girl, Laird lets out a long sigh.
“Ok, this isn’t working. How about we start from the ground up? Something that’s actually your vision,” he says.
“What’s a vision?” I ask.
“Something you wanna achieve. Your dream for building all this. The principles you’ll hold no matter what,” Laird says, his voice softened. His eyes stay on me for a second longer than necessary, and there’s a little flutter in my chest.
“Well, I just want money,” Jessy says, loud and proud.
“You sure about that?” Laird raises an eyebrow.
“As sure as I’m breathing. Everybody’s got their dreams.” Jessy lifts his chin, dramatic as ever.
“What do you wanna do with that money?” Laird presses.
“Pay for my mom’s medication.” Jessy shrugs, but the shrug is too fast, too defensive.
“And if you didn’t have to pay for her?” Laird asks again.
Jessy takes a long breath, then counts on his fingers. “Have fun. Eat whatever I want. Buy fashion I like. Travel the world. Become a global icon. Maybe get a dom-daddy. I don’t know. I’m flexible.”
“Jessy.” I giggle.
“What? A dream is a dream.” He opens his arms, looking between me and Laird. “Tell me you don’t wanna be rich and fabulous too.”
“I don’t know. I never thought much about my goals. Even after high school, all I could think about was being a dream girl so Laird would like me,” I say with a weak sigh.
Laird’s eyes lock onto mine. Something warm flickers there, something soft and slow. His lips curl, not into his usual smirk, but into something intimate, something almost tender. It makes my breath catch for a moment.
“You’re a hopeless girl, not a dream girl,” Jessy giggles.
My lips pout, and silence settles between us. Jessy studies his nails. Laird closes his eyes with that tired patience he only uses with people he cares about. My head spins with the weight of Jessy’s words.
Then it hits me.
“Oh! Oh, I know!” I jump to my feet. “Everdream!”
My eyes widen, my mouth drops open. I look at Jessy, then at Laird. They blink at me, surprised. I lift my index fingers like I’m transferring Wi-Fi signal directly into their brains.
“Ever dream of being rich, financially independent, building your own business? Ever dream of being a dream girl? Any dream you got, let’s make it happen together.”
I sound like a walking commercial. They stare at me for a moment. I slowly lower my hands.
“I mean, I wouldn’t be here without you guys,” I say with a shrug.
Jessy gasps and claps like he’s at a Broadway premiere. “That’ll work! Oh my god, I love that!”
Laird’s lips curve into a smile that’s small but full of pride. He nods. “A little icky, but honestly? It’s beautiful.”
The warmth hits me again, right in the chest. My ears warm, and my heartbeat kicks harder like it wants to announce itself. I raise my hands above my head like I’m writing the name in gold. “Everdream Management.”
“Yes! Perfect!” Jessy beams.
“Well, let’s move to the next step,” Laird says, handing us a stack of papers.
“Okay. What’s next?” I echo.
* * *
“Hi Greg, nice to see you.” Jessy gives Greg a quick peck on both cheeks.
I hug Greg too and give him one peck on the cheek, but our hug lasts longer. His arms stay around me, warm and steady, and suddenly his breath shakes like he’s holding back something big.
“Oh, my dear. How have you been?” Greg asks in this soft, coaxing tone.
“I’m pretty good. How about you?” I lean back and squeeze both his shoulders.
“Could’ve been better, but I’m grateful for everything.” Greg sighs, blinking fast.
“I know. I’m sorry,” I whisper, and my eyes burn a little.
“That’s not your fault.” Greg shakes his head. His hands cup my face, gentle, thumbs brushing my cheeks. “You did the right thing. I’m proud to be your friend.” He gives my shoulders a squeeze before we both smile and laugh it off.
The three of us sit together in a small café, catching up like we haven’t seen each other in years.
Three paper cups of hot coffee warm our hands while the conversation rolls from old memories to whatever chaos we’re dealing with now.
At one point, Jessy and I start explaining the real reason we’re here.
“So, we’re opening a new talent management office,” I say.
“For real?” Greg’s eyes fly open, full of surprise.
“Yes. We’re just starting, but this time we wanna do it right. I’m saving up some money so we can build the company properly,” I explain.
“That’s wonderful.” Greg beams.
“Yeah. We’re gonna register the company legally, open a new bank account, build all the social media channels, and launch a website,” Jessy says.
“Who’s the CEO?” Greg asks, looking between us.
“I’m the head, and Jessy is the operational director,” I admit with a wide smile, my cheeks warming.
“She’s also our model and our coach.” Jessy giggles, and I smack his shoulder.
“Yeah, that’s a no-brainer,” Greg says, nodding.
“Well,” I pause, holding my breath for a second. “We need a male model. Would you consider joining us? Please?” My fingers twist together in front of my chest.
“You want me?” Greg points at himself.
“Yes,” I say, squeezing my hands tighter.
“Well, count me in.” Greg smiles, that familiar dimple showing.
“That’s it?” I ask, eyes wide.
“Yes. What more do I need? I trust you. We’ve worked together for seven years. And after everything I heard about that case, I know you’ll stand up for me if anything ever happens to me.”
“What about your new agency?” I ask carefully.
“No contracts yet. I thought I’d go freelance for a while. But if you’re offering me a home, I don’t really need to think about it.”
“But I can’t promise you projects or bonuses like at Gene’s,” I say, making sure he hears the truth.
“It’s okay. Like I said, I count myself as a freelance model, but having a home base with you might be the smartest move. As long as I get to choose projects, I’m good.”
“Oh, thank God.” We laugh, the three of us exhaling at the same time. Our hands link together over the table, a little circle of three smiles.
“But a quick heads up. I promised a friend I’d be their fantasy cosplayer model. If we’re doing this together, we need to move fast so I can sign the contract with their event organizer,” Greg says, his tone shifting into something serious.
Not heavy, just focused. For a moment, we step into the same frame, united by intentions. It isn’t pressure that weighs us down, but the kind that sparks something new. A promising start, bright and close.