5 AM is the worst and best time of day. The world is quiet, and sometimes, you need that silence to think clearly. Sometimes you need to get up before the sun does because it means you have the entire day to be productive and have ZERO distractions. But it's also the WORST time of day because it's 5 AM and you've slept three hours...
My alarm sparked to life, blaring my morning playlist. I groaned as Fifth Harmony's "That's My Girl," began, shooting adrenaline through my veins as it coaxed me away from sleep. I stared at the ceiling for a beat, trying to decide if pretending the world didn't exist was an option so I could sleep for another five minutes... or another few hours... or days.
The day isn't going to wait for me to get my sleep-deprived, lazy butt out of bed, is it?
Rolling out of bed, I stumbled to my feet and instantly tripped over a pair of flats, hitting the ground, butt first. Ten points deducted from the Slytherin house!
After throwing the shoes across the room, and on my somewhat more graceful second attempt at standing, and after fumbling in the darkâ because lights are for suckersâ I found my workout clothes. Pulling them on, I headed out to my living room balcony, the loud music following behind me like my own personal theme music.
The cool air clung to my skin as the morning fog settled around me, making it impossible to see anything more than five feet off the balcony edge. The world was washed away, leaving a blank canvas of possibilities and hidden secrets.
If I hadn't been listening to an R&B girl group, the whole thing would have come off as early morning creepy as I was shrouded in dense fog. Pulling my black hair out of my face with a hair tie, I stared at my target, wrapping my knuckles in protective tape as I flexed my fingers, itching to get started.
Then bouncing from foot to foot, loosening my muscles, I launched at the punching bag set up on the left side of my balcony. I rammed my fists against the bag, the contact sending it swinging back on contact. I took up a fast, sharp rhythm, landing hit after hit to the beat of the music, melting into years of training with each small twitch the bag made.
The bagwork was a dance that kept my anger at bay, made me feel like I was in control of a world that always tried to take me down. So I did what had come to be part of my morning routine, I punched.
I punched away my grief over my parents being taken, my exhaustion over working too many hours and sleeping too few, my fear of relationships, and my anxiety over dealing with drama with a rival fashion company that had sniped my models the day before.
I just wanted to design clothes that made people feel beautiful. So why did every beautiful dream come with so much ugly baggage? Just let a girl work!
Once I could no longer feel my knuckles, rage, and pain evaporating into a numbness that matched my hands. I switched to my legs.
The routine had its perks other than working through emotional issues that a therapist was better suited for, but would frown upon being the subject of said punching, or would frown upon me punching others. Which was fair I guess.
Bagwork gave me an edge. It had proven useful when I had been threatened, giving me a way to fight back. Something I hoped wouldn't need to be used again anytime soon.
By the time I was done, showered, and changed, I was calm and ready to take on the day.
I had just made it to the curb, fully caffeinated when Tate pulled up and I spotted something utterly ridiculous in the front seat. And no, it wasn't Tate. I knocked on the front passenger's window, eyeing what he had done. Tate rolled down the window, grinning from ear to ear.
"Mornin' sleeping beauty!"
I pointed at the passenger's seat, with a raised brow. "What on earth is that supposed to be?"
Tate laughed, pushing a pair of sunglasses up his nose, eyes hidden behind the frames. "My ticket to the carpool lane. What do you think? Fancy huh?"
"It's the love hedge in sunglasses."
"Correction, It's UGGO sporting his cool summer look. Which so happens to include sunglasses."
I crossed my arms. "And why is it buckled in?"
"He's buckled in because I'm not a monster! What kind of parent wouldn't buckle in their child?!?"
I threw up my hands, exasperated. "IT'S AN UGLY PLANT! NOT A CHILD!"
A lady walking by stared at me confused at my sudden outburst at a plant.
Great, I look crazy.
Tate reached over and patted the plant's head. "Don't listen to her Uggo. Don't let her words hurt you."
I stalked to the back seat, muttering to myself. "Oh my gosh... I've created a plant-loving monster..." I yanked the car door open and climbed into the car. "He's insane."
"I have ears," Tate said with a laugh.
"So you can hear how crazy you sound then?" I retorted, my gaze staying on Tate just long enough to take in his black suit and deep green tie. Another great outfit choice.
Tate pulled away from the curb. "Nothing wrong with trying to have fun." We settled into traffic and fell into silence for a beat. The morning sun stretched across the road, sending warm streaks of light across the buildings, making the tall structures look like there were glittering like diamonds.
Glancing back at Tate, I was suddenly hit with the urge to ask him about Susan. Had she asked him out? Had they gone to get Thai food together? Had they sung any songs with the wrong lyrics together?
"How was the rest of your night?" I asked, hoping my intention wasn't incredibly obvious. I just needed to know what I was walking into at work with my assistant. I was just asking for Susan's sake. It was a fair question.
"Good," Tate replied surprisingly unhelpful and vague. I tapped my leg in a random rhythm trying to look nonchalant.
"Did you do anything?" I pressed in what I hope was a casual tone.
Tate shrugged. "Nothing too exciting."
I let out a silent breath, trying to not look utterly irritated. Super helpful Tate. You never shut up. Why are you suddenly so insanely quiet and vague?!?
"Did Susan make it home okay?"
Tate shifted, looking uncomfortable, distracted. "Yeah."
My breathing stopped. His reaction putting me on edge. They're dating, aren't they? She's going to be singing at the office... and in all the wrong words! And giving names to the staplers and pencils... They'll probably be called Punchy Together-O's and Writer Pointy Guys.
"What about you?" Tate asked pulling me from my thoughts.
"I baked two loaves of banana bread, then proceeded to eat them straight out of the container while I worked," I blurted without a thought. I stared out the window, wide-eyed, surprised by my sudden oversharing. I was normally very cryptic. But Tate's silence was throwing me off. It was like Tate and I switched verbal patterns.
Should I just jump out of the car right now? What kind of idiot would tell the truth about such a sad way to spend an evening?
"Wow..." Tate responded into the silence that my comment had created like a freaking black hole. "I just have one question..."
"Shoot," I replied pretending that I didn't care.
Tate lowered his sunglasses, eyeing me in the review mirror. "Is there any banana bread left?"
I snorted in surprise. "That's your takeaway?"
Tate snorted before reaching over to adjust Uggo's sunglasses. "Who hasn't eaten an entire pan of baked goods in one sitting? It's my constant state of being," he said like it was the most normal thing in the world. "But you didn't answer my question. Is there any more left? Because if you don't want it... I'll take it off your hands."
"I can't decide if you will eat anything or if you really think my banana bread is that good."
We pulled up to my office. Tate turned to smile at me. "Why can't it be both?"
"Okay, weirdo." I reached for the car door.
"Hey, Allie?"
I paused, hand on the door handle. "Yeah?" I asked, turning to look at him, wondering if he was going to prepare me for what I was about to walk into.
"I..." He paused, looking conflicted, hands tightening on the wheel for a moment.
The pause took forever. It was a dramatic pause that didn't want to end. He let out a sigh. "Here," he said, handing me something. "The clothes from the shoot."
"Oh, right." I took them, disappointed as he faced forward again. "Thanks for bringing these back."
"No problem boss," Tate said with a saluting wave of his fingers. "I'll pick you up later."
He drove away, the radio off, car silent. What is up with him today?
Turning, I unlocked the door to Winters, completely distracted, taking in the silence that came with being the first one in the building. But after taking three steps into the building, I froze on the verge of letting out a scream.
My heart shattered to match the broken glass reception desk. My skin crawled as I spotted papers thrown across the floor, outfits ripped to shreds. My vision blurred as I took in the graffiti that was splashed across the entire back wall.
DIE ALLIE WINTERS
I heard someone walk into the building behind me, and let out a sudden shocked breath. "What happened?" I turned to see Michale taking in the disaster with wide eyes, his face pale.
I shook my head, looking back at the scene. Someone had trashed my office. My home away from home. My work. Everything I loved was destroyed. And at the center of it all, sat a threatening letter. I suddenly wished I had gotten another stupid love letter from my secret admirer again. It would have been a lot better than this.
"Well that paint job certainly clashes with the look you are going for," Michale said, tapping his lips, staring at the words. "Sloppy work," he added after a thought.
My phone pinged, pulling my attention away from the words written in blood-red paint across the entire back wall of my office building. The words were impossible to ignore. A text from Susan filled my phone screen.
I can't come in today. Sick. Sorry.
- Susan
I stared at it, dread pooling in the pit of my stomach. Susan would never have dared to call in sick to work with a short, text. She was a monologue-er even in text form. She overshared. ALWAYS. This was bad. Very, very, bad.
Something was wrong. And it was more than the dramatic art project some psychopath had left in my office. I was missing something. "Michale... did you pass the photo shoot pictures off to Susan?"
Michale who was in the process of picking up a ripped dress and holding it gingerly in his hands nodded, eyes taking in the room with a heartbreak-filled expression. "Yeah sweetie, why?"
I swore, trying to ignore the paranoia that was beginning to set in. "Because I'm pretty sure we just lost our entire shoot."
I rubbed my temples as I walked past him and towards the front door. "I'll call the police when I get back." Glancing over my shoulders, I took in my office again. "Then I'll deal with..." IÂ waved my arm to encompass the whole office. "This." I pulled out my phone and shot a quick email to my employees, letting them know what they were going to be walking into.
I reached the door and shuffled through my purse to pull out my office keys. "Michale, why are you here? We don't have a meeting today."
Michale waved his hand, ushering me out the door. "Just to chat. It can wait. Now go deal with the drama." He held his hands out. "Give me the office keys. I'll call the police."
I sighed, relieved to have Michale in my corner. He had been my rock for years with an incredibly kind heart. "Thank you, Michale."
He smiled, eyes sad, pulling me into a deep hug. "Of course Allie."
"I don't know what I'd do without you," I replied, leaning my head against his shoulder.
He sighed, letting me go and adjusting his deep blue scarf. "You'd be fine. You are unbreakable."
I laughed, the sound hollow. Hardly.
Grabbing my phone, I called Tate, surprised when he answered on the first ring.
"Allie?" his voice filled with surprise. "Miss me already?"
"Hey, Tate..." It took me a second to process what to do next. "I need youâ" I suddenly coughed at what must have been the worst moment in the world.
There was a loaded pause. "Um... what?"
"No that'sâ" I said with a stammer, ignoring Michale's amused grin as he walked towards Winter's.
I heard Tate's smile through the phone. "Allie... that's so forward of you."
I shook my head wildly. "Tateâ"
"I mean, I'm flattered, but do you REAAAAAALLLY want to confess your undying love for me over the phone?"
"Tate! I'm not confessing! Being attracted to someone is not confessing!" Okay, wrong choice of words. "And that's not what I was even saying." I hurried on. "I had something stuck in my throatâ"
"I understand. It can be hard to let your feelings out. And you just admitted to being attracted to me so..."
I groaned. "Tate! I don't have time for your jokes!" My voice came out in an angry squeak, making me sound anything other than intimidating.
"Easy Allie, I'm nearly back at your office. What do you need?" he asked, voice going from laughter to calm in a breath. It grounded me, helping me think more clearly.
"A ride to either kill someone or save someone..." I managed.
The car pulled up and I scrambled towards it, not realizing I had chosen the front seat until I came face to face with Uggo in his stupid sunglasses. But before I could go to the back seat of the car, Tate yanked Uggo out of the front seat and put him in the back.
"I guess we can stop and buy a shovel to hide a body if you need help with that too. Is a coffin too much?" Tate asked. "So... who am I supposed to be helping you kill today?" he asked as we drove off, shooting me a wary look.
"Either Susan, or the person who hurt Susan."
Tate flinched, the amused tone, gone. He drove us back into traffic without a word, lost in thought. It made me nervous. Did Tate know something I didn't? Was he going to be the person I killed if he hurt Susan? I really didn't feel like shopping for a coffin.
I pushed the thought away, determined not to make any snapped judgments. Tate wouldn't hurt anyone... But what is he hiding?
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Thank you for reading chapter ten! I hope you are enjoying the story! Or are at least curious to see where it goes!
UPDATE DAYS - A NEW CHAPTER EVERY FRIDAY!
Who destroyed Allie's office?
Is Susan hiding something?
Did Susan ask Tate out? Did he say yes?
Why is Tate asking strange?
Wondering what song starts off Allie's Workout Mix? If you haven't heard of "That's My Girl" by Fifth Harmony, check out the song below!
CHAPTER QUESTION - What song gets you up in the morning?