My possessive actor husband

The Call

Vivienne Vivienne woke up not to the gentle chirping of morning birds or the soft hum of an alarm but to the violently familiar sounds of her dilapidated apartment building seemingly attempting to structurally destroy itself from the inside out. For a long, agonizing moment, she simply lay perfectly still beneath the covers, staring blankly up at the prominent water stains mapping out the cracked ceiling above her bed. She foolishly reasoned that if she didn't make a single physical movement, perhaps the rest of the grueling day would somehow fail to officially start. A loud, shattering crash of breaking ceramic from the apartment next door ruined that comforting fantasy immediately. Vivienne groaned loudly, dragging her oversized pillow over her face in a desperate, futile attempt to block out the world, but the chaotic noise outside her cocoon continued without a single pause. Of course it did, because absolutely nothing in this cursed building ever stopped moving or making noise. With a frustrated, exhausted sigh, she threw the pillow across the mattress and forced herself to sit up, instantly aware that her tangled hair looked like it had barely survived a Category 5 hurricane, while her lower back ached from the sagging springs and a dull headache was already forming behind her eyes. The actual day hadn't even started yet, and she was already completely spent. Shuffling across the cold hardwood floor, she marched toward the specific wall separating her small apartment from the relentless source of the loud music and banged her tightly clenched fist against the drywall once, twice, three times in rapid succession. "Some of us are actually trying to live over here!" she screamed into the wood. The music lowered by a fraction of a decibel for roughly two seconds before immediately returning to its original, wall-shaking volume. Vivienne stared at the blank wall in disbelief before letting out a dry, cynical whisper. "Of course. I absolutely hate my life," she muttered upon entering the empty kitchen. By the time she finally arrived at her shifts at the local café, the chaotic morning rush had already begun in full force. The rich, overwhelming scent of freshly ground coffee beans and sweet pastries greeted her the moment she stepped inside the glass doors, providing a brief comfort. Vivienne glanced anxiously at the digital clock on the wall: 7:58 AM. Two whole minutes early, a rare, monumental personal achievement. Unfortunately, Miranda, her aggressively micromanaging supervisor, was standing directly by the register, which meant that Vivienne's sense of achievement lasted approximately two seconds. "You're late," Miranda announced coldly without looking up. Vivienne didn't even bother to look in her direction as she walked straight past her manager and headed toward the employee storage room. "I am quite literally early, Miranda. Two whole minutes early, actually, which is a personal best for a Monday." "You are supposed to be clocked in and on the floor exactly ten minutes before your shift officially begins." Vivienne tied the strings of her green apron slowly, smoothing down the fabric. "You've been repeating that exact same made-up rule for years." "Because it happens to be true." "No," Vivienne replied calmly, stepping out of the back room. "You say it because you genuinely enjoy hearing the sound of your own voice." Miranda scoffed loudly, throwing her hands up. "Whatever. Kiara is running late again, so you're going to be entirely alone on the floor for a while, and the rush hour crowd is about to start pouring in." Vivienne closed her eyes briefly, silently pleading with the universe. Because apparently, the cosmos had looked down at her miserable life today and decided she wasn't struggling quite enough. "Perfect," she muttered under her breath. "That is exactly how I wanted my morning to go." By ten o'clock, Vivienne was fully convinced that excessive caffeine consumption turned ordinary human beings into actual monsters. The line for ordering stretched almost all the way out the front door and onto the sidewalk. One demanding customer loudly complained that his black coffee was far too hot to drink, while the very next woman in line complained that her latte wasn't hot enough. Someone else aggressively demanded extra whipped cream on their mocha before turning around and complaining to management that there was too much whipped cream hiding the coffee. One strange man in a tailored suit even insisted that his cappuccino looked explicitly "sad," and Vivienne still wasn't entirely sure what that was supposed to mean. By the time she finally managed to sit down for a mere five seconds behind the counter, her feet were throbbing and her patience had completely packed its bags and left the building. She dropped heavily onto a tall metal stool and wiped a layer of sweat from her forehead. "It's an absolute war zone out there." Nearly an hour later, the heavy front door burst open, and Kiara rushed inside the café, looking completely frazzled, her coat half-on and her hair in disarray. "Mamacita! I am so incredibly sorry!" Vivienne slowly turned her head toward her, and the sheer, deadpan look of exhaustion on her face made Kiara immediately wince in guilt. "I had to unexpectedly take my Nana to the hospital this morning," Kiara explained quickly, her eyes wide with worry. Hearing that, some of Vivienne's intense irritation instantly disappeared, replaced by genuine concern. "Is Nana going to be okay?" "She's totally fine, just a false alarm." Vivienne exhaled dramatically, letting her shoulders drop. "Good. Because I was actively deciding whether or not I was going to forgive you for leaving me alone out here." Kiara grinned mischievously, reaching into her oversized bag. "I brought peace offerings." She slid a massive, commercial-sized tub of premium chocolate ice cream across the counter. Vivienne stared intensely at the tub. Then she looked at Kiara. Then she looked back at the chocolate ice cream. The forgiveness was absolute and immediate. "And suddenly, all is right with the universe." Kiara burst out laughing, leaning against the counter. "I knew you'd understand." Vivienne grabbed a clean spoon from the display. "Your favorite disrespectful regular almost got aggressively tased by me today, by the way." Kiara laughed even harder. "No, he didn't." "He came dangerously close, Kiara. I had my hand on the safety." "You threaten absolutely everybody with that tiny taser." "And yet, notice how nobody ever acts up twice on my watch." For the very first time all morning, Vivienne found herself genuinely laughing, the heavy tension in her shoulders finally easing as the day became slightly more bearable. By the time their grueling shift finally ended, both women looked completely hollowed out by the service industry. They headed gladly toward the storage room to grab their personal belongings, ready to sprint out the door, when a sharp, grating voice stopped them dead in their tracks. "Wait just a minute." Vivienne closed her eyes in profound annoyance. Miranda. Of course. "What now, Miranda?" Kiara asked, turning around with a heavy sigh. "You two cannot leave the premises until your afternoon replacements actually arrive on site." Vivienne turned around slowly, her voice dangerous. "Our shift is officially over, Miranda. We've clocked our hours." "That doesn't matter to me." "It actually does matter," Vivienne cut in, her voice hardening. "It matters to the labor board, and it matters to my feet." Miranda folded her arms tightly over her chest. "You will stay right here until they get here." "No." The word came out of Vivienne's mouth so quickly and with such definitive force that Miranda actually blinked in sheer shock. "No?" she repeated, dumbfounded. "No," Vivienne solidified. A heavy, ringing silence fell over the café. Then, Miranda completely snapped, her face turning a vibrant shade of red. "You're fired, Shepherd!" Vivienne laughed. She actually, genuinely laughed right in her manager's face. "You need me far too much to fire me, Miranda. You'd have to work a weekend shift if I left." That strategic comment hit exactly where it was intended to hurt, and Miranda's jaw tightened visually. "You're still not leaving this building." "Watch us." Kiara, catching the vibe, immediately grabbed her backpack. "What did you just say to me?" Miranda demanded, stepping forward. "Nothing you didn't hear the first time," Vivienne said smoothly before leaning toward her friend. "Kiara, run." And just like that, the two of them bolted out the back door and into the alleyway. Miranda's echoing, furious voice followed them all the way down the street, but they didn't stop running or laughing until they safely reached the front door of Vivienne's apartment. Kiara collapsed dramatically onto the worn couch, which emitted a loud, agonizing groan in protest. "You desperately need a new couch, Viv." "I desperately need a new life." Vivienne kicked off her painful work shoes and dropped directly beside her on the cushions. "My dad's medical debts are absolutely killing me," the raw words came out much softer and more vulnerable than she had intended. Kiara gently nudged her shoulder with her own. "We'll figure it out together, Viv. We always do." "I am trying so hard." "I know you are. it won't always be like this," Kiara said quietly into the silence. Vivienne wanted to believe her. She really, truly did. Suddenly, her phone buzzed violently in her pocket, shattering the somber mood. She frowned deeply at the screen. "If this is Miranda calling from work, I am literally throwing this device into oncoming traffic." Kiara laughed, shoving her playfully. "Just answer it." Reluctantly, Vivienne swiped the screen and held the phone to her ear. "Hello?" "Good evening, Vivian," a crisp, professional voice spoke on the other end. Vivienne's eye twitched immediately at the mispronunciation. "It's Vivienne," she corrected automatically. A brief pause stretched over the line. "Or honestly, just call me Viv." "My apologies, Viv. I'm calling to inform you that you have officially gotten the job." Everything in the room went perfectly still. Vivienne blinked once, then blinked again, completely frozen. "...What?" "I said, you got the job." For a wild second, she genuinely thought she was having a stress-induced auditory hallucination. Months of endless applications, months of demoralizing rejections, and months of hearing the dreaded phrase "We'll call you" had defined her existence, and now, against all odds, someone had finally said yes. "Wait," she said quickly, her voice trembling. "Are you actually serious right now?" "Yes, Viv, I'm serious." "Oh my God." She jumped to her feet in pure excitement, then sat back down out of shock, then stood right back up again. Kiara stared at her in utter confusion. "Wait, which specific job is this exactly?" An awkward silence stretched over the line. "You don't even remember?" "I applied to a lot of places this week, to be fair." Another long pause followed, and then Tessa sounded genuinely, humorously offended. "You literally begged me for this specific position." Vivienne winced, rubbing her forehead. "Look, I've done a significant amount of desperate begging lately, it's hard to keep track." Tessa let out a heavy sigh over the line. "I'll text you the corporate address. Be there tomorrow morning at exactly nine o'clock. Don't be late." The call ended with a sharp click. Kiara was already staring at her with wide, manic eyes. "Well? Tell me!" Vivienne looked down at the glowing phone screen in absolute disbelief. "I think... I think I just got a real job." Kiara let out an ear-piercing scream of joy, jumping off the couch. A second later, a text message appeared on Vivienne's screen—a real address, a real opportunity. Vivienne stared at the glowing text, and then a small, disbelieving laugh escaped her lips. For the very first time in months, something had finally gone right. Kiara threw her arms tightly around her neck. "You got the job, mamacita!" "What if it's an elaborate trap?" Vivienne asked, her old anxieties creeping back in. "You carry a taser, remember?" "That doesn't exactly make me feel better about corporate America." "Well, it makes me feel a hell of a lot better," Kiara laughed. Vivienne laughed along with her despite herself. As she looked around her tiny, cramped apartment at the peeling paint, the broken couch, and the bills waiting for her tomorrow, she felt a sensation she hadn't felt in a very long time. Hope. It was small, fragile, and inherently dangerous, but it was hope all the same.