Magicorum Box Set (Books 1-5)

11. Chapter Eleven-1

11

Chapter Eleven

Bryar Rose

I check my watch. Or, I check the amazing smart watch that Elle loaned me for this morning. It’s now Friday morning, a little before 10 a.m., and Elle and I are off to our internship at LeCharme.

Strolling side by side, we stride along Sixth Avenue. Early morning sunshine glints off the skyscrapers as we make a beeline for the LeCharme Building. Around us, the city is alive with motion. Someone in a yellow taxi slams on its horn. Up ahead, a young guy plays drums on a row of buckets. A street vendor sells hotdogs for breakfast. I love New York.

Turns out, Elle and I slept most of Thursday away. When we finally did wake up, we spent the time watching old movies and avoiding too much talk about Knox and Alec. I told Elle the whole story of how Knox saved my life, followed by his nasty behavior on the drive back. We both agree that he’s not boyfriend material. Elle says that Alec is a flirt who’ll never commit to anything, although she did appreciate the backrub and general concern for her well-being.

We then spent a good chunk of time insisting to each other that we aren’t into those guys. And we mean it, too. The only reason we’re walking over to LeCharme right now is because of the internship. Not the guys. Maybe.

Elle and I approach the LeCharme entrance. The first floor of the building is all retail space. In other words, it’s one huge jewelry store. The upper levels are the business offices, and that’s where our internship will take place.

Pausing, I scope out our reflections in the outer plate glass windows and smile. Damn, we look good. Both Elle and I are both dressed in black suits and heels. Luckily, Elle had a few Armani suits ready to go in her closet, and the two of us are the same size. I guess she got them for some scam that never took off. As always, I didn’t ask too many questions.

I elbow Elle and gesture to the window. “Hey. We look totally awesome.”

Elle glances up from her phone. No question what she was doing just now. Ever since they met, Elle and Alec have been texting nonstop, supposedly about the internship. Elle says it’s all professional. Still, she keeps blushing her face off whenever they text, so I know Alec’s flirting with her. By the way, Alec said for us to dress in jeans today, but I found a LeCharme fan site that said all the full-time employees wear black suits.

Elle and I want to look full time and badass. We’re wearing black suits.

Finally, Elle looks up from her phone. “What?”

“I said, we look amazing.”

She pauses and checks out our reflection, too. The black outfit sets off her big blue eyes, long blonde hair, and toned legs. In fact, we look a little like sisters, only my hair is brown. She links arms with me. “We’re totally ready for this.”

“You got it.”

“Only…I wish I had a briefcase.”

“Why? We don’t have anything big to carry.”

“I know that. It’s just I’ve seen some really cute leather ones that would totally go with this look. They even have little bows on them.”

“Something for next time,” I say, as I wonder how exactly Elle plans to get her hands on those particular bags. I’ve seen them in magazines. They run four grand a pop.

Again, something I’d rather not know.

We pass through the revolving door and enter the main sales floor of LeCharme. Everything here is pale purple—that’s the company’s signature color. A maze of waist-high glass cases stretches out before us. The place is pretty busy with customers, sales clerks, guards, and…

Oh, no.

One particular guard. We call him Comb-Over Guy.

I grab Elle’s shoulders and point her toward a nearby wall. My death grip on her suit makes it clear there’s a problem, so Elle doesn’t fight me at all. When she speaks, her voice is barely a whisper. “What’s up?”

“Remember when we came in here over the winter?”

“The time I took the tiara?”

“No.”

“Emerald ring set?”

“No.”

“Diamond jaguar pin?”

“No!” I frown. “Do we really hit this place that often?”

“Sha.” She snaps her fingers. “The ruby chalice.”

“That’s the one. We were all dressed up for a party, but we ran into that guard we called Comb-Over Guy and then…” I leave it out there, as the memory should be obvious at this point.

“No, I don’t remember.”

“You thought he was about to grab you, so you maced his face off.”

“Oh, yeah. Comb-Over Guy.” Elle taps her chin. “He’s here?”

“About four yards behind us.”

Elle’s big blue eyes narrow. She’s scheming up something; that’s for sure. “And where do we have to get to?”

“The employee elevators at the back wall.”

“So why don’t we just walk by him?”

“Because he said that if he ever saw us again, I quote, ‘I’ll call the cops first and ask questions later.’” I lower my voice. “We’re trying to look cool and make a good impression.”

“Got it.” Elle smacks her lips, which means scheming time is over. “Here’s the plan. You’re good with me setting the plan, right?”

“Please.” I roll my eyes. “You always scheme when we’re avoiding trouble. It’s your gift.”

“Right. So this is it. We walk casually toward the back elevators.”

“Not a great plan. He’ll see us.”

“Wait, there’s more. As we step on by, we just keep our bodies angled toward the wall, like we’re looking at the décor or something. That way, we can waltz right over to the elevator bank without showing our faces to anyone.”

“That would be a good plan.”

“It’s an awesome plan.”

“But there’s nothing on the walls here, Elle. We’d look totally suspicious.”

“Ugh.” Elle groans. “You’d think LeCharme would have enough money to buy a freaking picture. Sheesh.”

“Maybe we pretend we’re like, interior decorators, sizing the walls up for future artwork.” Elle and I always pick out personas before we launch into a scheme like this one. You’d be amazed how useful it is.

“Perfect.” Elle scratches her cheek and discreetly glances over her shoulder. “Let’s go.”

We start a slow stroll by the far right wall. Elle makes comments about how some impressionist paintings might look great here. I totally agree with her. My imagination starts to run wild. Is that guard following us? I don’t want the cops to haul us out of the building on our first day. I mean, chances are it will happen eventually, but I’d like to ease Knox and Alec into the whole mania that is Elle and me.

Not that I care what those guys think, of course.

At last, we make it to the bank of elevators. There are four sets, all of which go up to the fortieth floor. I hit the Up button, try to look cool, and ask Elle a question from the corner of my mouth. “Is he coming?”

“Oh yeah.”

I risk a glance over my shoulder. Sure enough, Comb-Over Guy is hauling ass in our direction, and he does not look happy. Yipes. Nothing like getting maced in the face to make an impression. The dude is within a few yards of us when the nearest elevator opens up. Folks in black suits spill out into the foyer. A second elevator slides open right behind it. Only one guy gets out.

“There!” I point to the second elevator. “Let’s make like New Yorkers.”

“Right.”

Now, Elle and I are experts in the intricate dance of hip-checking and shoulder-bumping that makes life in New York bearable. Luckily for us, Comb-Over Guy isn’t as aggressive. He gets caught in the crowd of workers while we slip into the second elevator and hit the button that’s marked “Tenth Floor Reception.”

The doors close with a metal hiss. I turn to Elle and give her a high five. “That was so awesome, girlfriend. We got totally lucky with that second elevator.”

“It’s not luck,” says Elle. “It’s human nature. People are sheep. Everyone gets on the first elevator that stops on their floor. They pack in like sardines while a second, totally empty elevator follows right behind.”

“True that. Either way, I’m glad we missed Comb-Over Guy.”

“Me too.”

The doors open again, and we step off into reception. It’s a huge, funky space with high ceilings, low tables, and leather couches. Everything is LeCharme purple. There’s no one around except for a reception desk with a long line of people waiting in front of it. Elle marches right past the desk.

“Whoa, there.” I pull on Elle’s sleeve. “We have to visit reception, right?”

Elle’s big blue eyes are blank for a moment before reality kicks in. “Yes, of course.”

Here’s what that was all about. Usually, Elle and I are here after hours, so we don’t have to bother with checking in. But now, we have to play nice with others, so we get in line along with everyone else.

I scope out the reception desk and see two girls sitting behind it. They aren’t much older than Elle and me. The first girl has cocoa skin, long hair, and a nametag that reads “Tamara.” The other has exotic almond-shaped eyes and long straight hair. Her name tag says “Cinnamyn.” They’re both helping out the first person in line who’s a middle-aged dude in a blue suit with a goatee.

This will be a long wait. We’ve got about eight people ahead of us, I’d guess. I turn to Elle. “When were we supposed to get here?”

“Ten a.m.”

I check my watch. “It’s five after. We’re running a little late. Should we text him again?”

Elle scrunches her mouth. “I did text him. It still isn’t going through.”

“Maybe he turned off his phone or something.”

“Maybe.” Elle goes on tiptoe to check out the line. It’s not moving. “Let’s give it another couple of minutes and see where we are.”

Tamara starts gabbing away to her coworker. There’s nothing else to do, so I listen in. “Did you hear?” she asks.

Now, I know the opening salvo into gossip. And the way Tamara asked that question while raising her voice when she said “hear?” Something good is coming up.

“Hear what?” asks Cinnamyn.

“Alec came in early today.” Tamara bobs her perfectly coiffed eyebrows up and down. She looks like a million bucks.

Elle and I share a side-eye glance. This look says, maybe, as in maybe they aren’t talking about OUR Alec.

“How early?” Cinnamyn slowly pulls out a purple Sharpie and writes a name on a sticker badge with such care, it’s like she’s moving in slow motion. I know this trick. I use it in tutoring sessions all the time. Elle calls it the labor fake. I call it goofing around. Either way, I’m glad it’s happening since it might be giving Elle and me some useful information.

Tamara pauses for dramatic effect. “Eight a.m.”

“No. Way.” Cinnamyn gasps. “The vice president of who knows what never saunters in before noon.”

Elle and I share a knowing smile. Vice president of who knows what? Check. Sauntering around? Check again.

Oh, they’re talking about our Alec, all right.

Now, you might think that receptionists wouldn’t spend their time gossiping when there is a long line of people waiting for badges, but I’ve seen the LeCharme payroll. These ladies are sorely in need of a raise. It’s something I plan to bring up to Alec one of these days. So, a little gossiping is like a makeshift bonus, really.

Tamara sets down her Sharpie. “Why was he in so early?”

The Goatee Dude pulls on the neck of his dress shirt. “Aren’t you done with my name badge yet? I have a very important appointment.”

Tamara glares at him. “One moment, sir. I’m almost done.”

I think I like Tamara.

After that, Tamara writes the guy’s name so slowly you can barely tell she’s alive. It reminds me of those people who pose like statues in Central Park.

“Well.” Cinnamyn looks around, probably to see if any LeCharme employees are milling about. It’s just us and the other badge-needers, so she keeps right on going. “He showed up with a specific list of rare and unusual jewels, and he asked that they be brought up from the vaults to his office.”