The Screenplay
folder
Romance › General
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
22
Views:
2,191
Reviews:
1
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Romance › General
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
22
Views:
2,191
Reviews:
1
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The Author holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited.
TWENTY-ONE
Eilla sped to her apartment to throw on a semi-respectable set of clothes, place a beret haphazardly on her hair which she tied to the side, and ran back out the door. Every stop light she was detained by was agonizing on her way to the store. She slapped her steering wheel anxiously, as if the more taps it recieved the quicker the light would become green.
Finally, she whipped carelessly into a parking spot, almost forgetting to put her car in park before turning off the ignition. She practically sprinted into the store, around the cash register, through the racks of drumsticks and symbols, and into the office. There was Theo, at his desk, hunched over a catalogue. "Hi." Eilla said between deep breaths.
Theo, in no hurry to speak, finished whatever it was he was reading on the page. The musical score from the speakers was blaring, Eilla could swear it was twice its normal volume, and twice its speed. It felt like music from a car chase, with the bad guys leaning out of their windows, blasting guns at cops and laughing. It was sinister, making Eilla's pulse quicken as she became more and more nervous for the argument that was sure to come.
"Did you talk to Ben?" Theo asked finally, leaning away from his catalogue.
"No. This has nothing to do with him," Eilla said seriously. "This is ours, Theo, no matter what Ben wants."
"I want you out. You're completely unreliable," he sighed, trying to remain professional. He folded his hands on the desk, attempting to take a stance of power.
"That's bullshit," was all Eilla could muster.
"Not really. You're always missing, and I've always picked up you're slack. I haven't complained. You're late all the time, you leave early, and frankly, you don't do anything when you are here unless you're supervising Ben moving stuff around," Theo's face became flushed and his speech was becoming quicker. "You're not a businesswoman, and that's fine, but I can't let myself be dragged down by that. Not with these bills we have here, its too much of a risk. I have to make money. I don't have..." he took a deep breath, "I don't have the options you do."
"Excuse me?" Eilla stood, confused, flustered and upset.
Theo raised his hands to his face, briefly pressing his fingertips to his temples, trying to construct his next sentences. The pulsing music was steadily pulsing through the room, Eilla's breathing was beginning to get into rhythm with it.
"Eilla, it was a mistake for me to ask for you to partner with me in the first place. I should apologize for that. I am willing to completely compensate for your input, monetary and otherwise. I just need for you to let me do this alone."
"Fuck you," Eilla breathed. She wasn't even sure if he had heard her, but she immediately turned away before she could see if he had any reaction. Just as quickly as she had entered, she exited, bolting through the stands and back into her car. Trying to speed away she was defeated by the stream of tears the burst through her, arms too weak to turn the keys in the ignition. She folded her arms over the steering wheel and sobbed.
Finally, she whipped carelessly into a parking spot, almost forgetting to put her car in park before turning off the ignition. She practically sprinted into the store, around the cash register, through the racks of drumsticks and symbols, and into the office. There was Theo, at his desk, hunched over a catalogue. "Hi." Eilla said between deep breaths.
Theo, in no hurry to speak, finished whatever it was he was reading on the page. The musical score from the speakers was blaring, Eilla could swear it was twice its normal volume, and twice its speed. It felt like music from a car chase, with the bad guys leaning out of their windows, blasting guns at cops and laughing. It was sinister, making Eilla's pulse quicken as she became more and more nervous for the argument that was sure to come.
"Did you talk to Ben?" Theo asked finally, leaning away from his catalogue.
"No. This has nothing to do with him," Eilla said seriously. "This is ours, Theo, no matter what Ben wants."
"I want you out. You're completely unreliable," he sighed, trying to remain professional. He folded his hands on the desk, attempting to take a stance of power.
"That's bullshit," was all Eilla could muster.
"Not really. You're always missing, and I've always picked up you're slack. I haven't complained. You're late all the time, you leave early, and frankly, you don't do anything when you are here unless you're supervising Ben moving stuff around," Theo's face became flushed and his speech was becoming quicker. "You're not a businesswoman, and that's fine, but I can't let myself be dragged down by that. Not with these bills we have here, its too much of a risk. I have to make money. I don't have..." he took a deep breath, "I don't have the options you do."
"Excuse me?" Eilla stood, confused, flustered and upset.
Theo raised his hands to his face, briefly pressing his fingertips to his temples, trying to construct his next sentences. The pulsing music was steadily pulsing through the room, Eilla's breathing was beginning to get into rhythm with it.
"Eilla, it was a mistake for me to ask for you to partner with me in the first place. I should apologize for that. I am willing to completely compensate for your input, monetary and otherwise. I just need for you to let me do this alone."
"Fuck you," Eilla breathed. She wasn't even sure if he had heard her, but she immediately turned away before she could see if he had any reaction. Just as quickly as she had entered, she exited, bolting through the stands and back into her car. Trying to speed away she was defeated by the stream of tears the burst through her, arms too weak to turn the keys in the ignition. She folded her arms over the steering wheel and sobbed.