Chapter 17: The Transporter

Storming back to my desk, I was still pissed that he had actually tossed me back down on that couch eleven more times before I had to give it up. When I sat still for a few minutes he had finally dismissed me. I wanted to punch the walls, the elevator doors, and my computer screen– I was so enraged.

I'm stuck in a serious rut because who can I turn to about this man? HR? Renee or Chris? What difference would it make?

Nothing, except for me actually losing my job.

And I can't risk doing losing my small stream of money when I'm moving. Life is complete trash right now, and I'm sick of it. I can not handle this man bothering me any more today, and I seriously hoped that I could have some damn peace from him.

Somehow it felt like I got my wish, as the day progressed. I didn't receive anything from him that, and for the next hour work emails and tasks were the only things flooding my inbox.

But no matter what happened, 12:00PM would always put me on edge. I watched the clock at the top right of my screen starting at 11:50AM. I wasn't scared, but the twisting and turning of my stomach fit the symptoms.

"Shit," I whispered as soon as I received an email from the control freak.

I closed my eyes, in preparation for opening the message with a subject "Food."

I'm so over this shit!

Ms. Young,

Be sure that you don't stray from nutrition.

-Leoné

"Are you serious? So first I'm a dog and now I'm a child?" I asked, giving the screen a brief middle finger.

What in God's name makes him think that he needs to tell me when to eat?

"You want to tell me what to do? I should be able to do the same and tell you to mind your own cottdamned business," I snuffed, while grabbing my purse.

I'll eat when I want and when I feel like it... or when I can afford it. The unfortunate truth about money was deafening while I tried to calculate my income and my new apartment.

Okay, so definitely no cable... reduced food budget.

My previous idea of a second job was starting to creep towards the front of the list, and I searched through job listings while indulging on a mediocre gyro from a nearby food cart.

Once lunch was over, I had returned to my cube and prepared to finish out the day. I was still living in a fifty-fifty situation when it came to receiving messages at work. Either the notification was work related or pertaining to the man on the thirty-third floor. But the end of the day was nearing, and I was actually worried about his silence.

I may still be reeling from what happened earlier, but I still needed to know something incredibly crucial from him.

2:58PM was beaming on the monitor, and I was losing hope. The moving company's office was going to close in the next half-hour, and if I needed to cancel my plans I needed to know now.

My cursor was seconds away from hitting "Sleep" in the dropdown menu, before I received another email.

Like a madwoman, I clicked the Mail app open and opened up his message.

Ms. Young,

Your request to have this Friday off has been approved.

-Leoné

I quietly rejoiced. However, the celebration only lasted for a few seconds before I realized what that asshole had probably done, seeing as to how I was given permission to have Friday off two minutes before the end of the day. I didn't dwell too much on his childish bullshit; I wasn't going to have to face rearranging plans or paying a hefty cancellation fee.

*

My alarm blasted into my ear at 4AM. Normally, I might have been surprised by it, but my eyes were already open. There was no real sleep to be had, with a million things going on in my head all night and morning. Questions upon questions circulated around, and strangely enough they didn't revolve around money but friendship. Was I really going to go, and was I really going to cut off a friendship with Greta? The whole situation is fucked up, but when it boils down to it, I can't help but blame myself.

She wasn't entirely wrong.

Cinna Buns was already prowling around, and I'm sure the little cat knew that today was going to be a very long one. The carrier was on the floor, and she was on the opposite side of the room, almost daring me to put her in it.

Who would have guessed the first taste of the day's emotional toll would begin with a cat who hated being confined in a small space and crying about it.

I pouted with honest remorse through her incredibly sad wails. "I'm sorry. When they come, you'll be out of that cage before you know it."

Looking at my phone, I rolled my eyes for the third time. I called the company again and was ready to put my patience away. It had been over an hour since the appointed time and it was already 6AM.

Of course, no one picks up the phone!

I paced around my room, trying to fight what could turn into an emotional breakdown or panic attack.

"Hush, Cinna Buns," I pleaded, letting the chatty kitten out of her cage briefly.

Her crying was too much for me, and considering that plans were messed up from the start, I wasn't going to pretend that she wasn't about to lose her little mind. Suddenly, my phone rang and unfortunately for her she had to have her little butt patted back into her cage. I hurried to look through the eye hole of the front door, and my lips pursed in question.

I inched open the door and asked above the chain, "No, no... I remember your name... Kyle?"

"Good morning, Ms. Young," he greeted with a smile so warm his eyes narrowed into fine slits.

My face froze in its half-questioning, half-flabbergasted state for several seconds.

"Ms... Young?" Kyle asked with concern.

My nostrils flared and I forced a smile. "I cannot... let me not jump to conclusions. How may I help you this morning, Kyle?"

His eyes opened wide before they glanced around and he confessed, "I am actually here to help you... help you conduct your move from here into the inner city."

I covered my mouth briefly before informing, "But I already hired a local company. This must be a major mistake."

Kyle's own bewilderment forced him to pull out his cell contact someone that could have only been the mastermind behind this potential bullshit. I couldn't let him stand in the cold hall while he tried to clear this completely absurd scenario up, so I unlocked the chain and gestured for him to come in.

I half-smiled back at his quiet thank you, and turned around to rub my head praying that the lack of sleep was fucking with me.

Of course, as life would have it, Greta was cracking open her bedroom door and looking out.

"Umm, Ada... who is that?" she asked, while easing toward me to take a good look at the chauffeur.

We both looked toward him, and Kyle nodded once, hummed, "Mmm hmm, yes sir", before he put his phone back into his black slacks.

The nice man extended his hand to my disheveled ex-roommate wearing a giant t-shirt and greeted, "Good morning. I'm normally Mr. Leoné's chauffeur, but today I am Ms. Young's as she relocates."

Greta slowly shook his hand and looked to me with none other than disgust.

"You know, I felt bad that you were leaving, but I can't believe this," she snarled. before turning back around.

I was tired, but not enough to let my cracked voice resound confidently, "Can't believe what?!"

She stormed up to my face and spat, "You did and you are still fucking this man. This Mr. Leoné."

Taking a step back, I took a good look at her. She mimicked my gesture with the finesse of a hand on her hip.

"You're serious?" I asked.

"What the hell do you think, Ada?!" Greta shouted. "It's just like you to try to find the easy way out of a situation, instead of just fucking growing up! You really moving out to your own place, or are you actually moving in with this rich asshole?"

My hand cupped my mouth before I finally concluded my thoughts. "For a while you've been acting like a... a simple random that should and would assume something like this. In fact, not only is your assumption tragic, it's way out there past the moon when we all need you to be here on Earth. Since I found out about your actual plans of kicking me out, not once have you tried to acknowledge any of the hurtful and untrue shit that has come out of your mouth toward your friend of six years. Six years of putting up every one of your bad-decision, trash-ass, lazy, and unemployed men you actually laid down with on the regular basis before George. So you know what, Greta? Fuck you. You don't deserve to actually know what the hell is going on in my life anymore."

She was red in the face, and I could see her shaking where she stood. Clenching down on my teeth, I turned on my socks and headed back to the confused man in the apartment. I took in a deep breath and tried to find my center when I approached a pair of concerned eyes.

"I'm sorry, Kyle," I sighed. "Clearly, there has been a misunderstanding, and I think Mr. Leoné screwed up somewhere."

Out of nowhere he was smiling again, "Oh no, Ms. Young. He told me to tell you that he contacted the movers and changed the arrangements yesterday."

Kyle looked to me to see as if any of the information was sounding familiar. One arm folded across my chest, the other perpendicular with my hand covering my lips, as I stared at Kyle in contemplation.

"Changed the arrangements?" I whispered.

"Yes, ma'am," he nodded, fear slowly gripping his face.

I gasped, "When you say changed, you mean..."

"Cancelled," he gravely admitted.

My fingers were pressed to my lips once more, and I took a slow stroll one of the apartment's measly windows. I nodded at the sight of several uniformed men standing around a long moving truck.

I'm going to... I don't know what I'm going to do to this man.

"I cannot believe this," I peeped with a smile.

"Pardon?" Kyle questioned innocently in the distance.

I took his hands and held them between us and repeated with a blinding rage and joy, "Kyle, I need to have several upon several words with your boss."

*

Dread masked my face as I slipped into the back of the familiar black car. Kyle was kind enough to carry out the wailing Cinna Buns, before he handed me her carrier. Before he closed the door, he reassured me that it was fine to let her out of her cage and hold her if I wanted.

"Your warmth might console her," he smiled before closing the door.

"Thanks," I grumbled, wanting to stay in rage mode.

Abruptly, I glanced behind Kyle and watched the blank moving truck drive into traffic.

This can't be happening.

I wasn't shocked that Kyle was right about hanging onto the upset kitten. She cried her little heart out for the first ten minutes, but she eventually quit and clung onto me.

The rickety elevator carried a trio up to the tenth floor of another unattractive building. She was still in my arms and small sharp claws were still digging into my old shirt, when I awkwardly unlocked our new... small studio apartment.

"What the hell?" I gasped, staggering inside.

"Something the matter, Ms. Young?" Kyle asked smiling around at my miniscule space.

"Wha... wha?" I huffed.

My brows were permanently together as I blinked one last time and asked, "I must have the wrong key... and apartment? I don't recall any furniture in here when I signed the lease. In fact, I just recall grey brick walls, and lumpy but polished floors. Both of those surfaces completely bare!"

He nodded. "Yes, Ms. Young. But once Mr. Leoné put down a selling price for this building..."

Kyle was wise to stop there. The look on my face was unexplainable. The room was hot and it was becoming even hotter the more my eyes roamed around the furnished space.

"Please tell me this is a horrible horrible nightmare," I begged to Kyle.

Kyle pressed his lips together and shook his head. A little laugh left me, and I handed him my kitten.

"I just wanted some peace and quiet after I got past the hysteria of moving," I whispered to myself, watching the uniformed men enter one by one with my belongings.

"I'm going to faint," I murmured.

Somehow, my feet carried me into the middle of the small apartment. There was even a big-screen TV mounted on the wall. A brand new queen-sized bed far off against a wall, two small couches, kitchen appliances.

What the fuck is happening?

He was completely out of line. So far off. Just astronomical levels of fucked up were surrounding me. Or so I thought...

It wasn't until I finally turned to the open doorway to see the very problem strolling through. He pulled at his cuffs of a dark gray suit jacket and put a hand on Kyle's shoulder with a snide grin before finally turning it on me.

I clenched my fists and held my breath the moment he mistakenly opened his mouth and began, "This is a very nice place you have, Ms. Young."