Song: Questioning My Mind // Ambar Lucid

Bonus Chapter Three on DWI was published, so don't forget to check that out!

•••

I felt like tearing my hair right out of my scalp.

Leo was running around the office, a Superman and Batman action figure in either one of his hands. He was making the two fight as he conjured up sounds with his mouth. 'Pows', 'smacks', and other onomatopoeic words escaped his lips as he crashed the two dolls against each other. At some point, he even threw the Superman action figure after Batman had 'punched' him too hard. It hit a picture frame on the bookshelf and sent it toppling down, glass flying everywhere.

After scolding him for a minute, he apologized with teary eyes and promised to never do it again. Now, he was sitting on the floor, building a small Lego set I bought him a few days ago.

As if that wasn't enough, I was reading through what may have been the worst article I've ever come across in my life, and I've seen a shitton. The sub-editor has cleared it of any grammatical errors, but, alas, he couldn't clear it of the crappy content. It was perhaps the most shallow, uninteresting piece I've read in my career. I browsed through it a good five times, annotating it on the sides until the white paper was covered in black scribbles, before deciding that the website was better off if I rewrote the article myself.

"Mama!" Leo called, shaking my arm to break me out of my concentration. I finished typing up the sentence before letting my gaze drift down toward him. "J'ai faim." [I'm hungry.]

I glanced at the time on the top right corner of my laptop and did a doubletake when I found that it was already three o'clock. Leo had breakfast at around seven-thirty in the morning, and I'd given him some snacks while we were in the office, but as soon as I started the article, I completely forgot that time existed.

"Désolée, mon cher," I kissed his head of hair before leaning down to pick up my tote. "J'ai oublié." [I'm sorry, darling. I forgot.]

I rummaged through it before pulling out a packed Spider-Man themed lunchbox. It had some leftover Chicken Paella I'd made two days ago– it was enough to fill him up until dinner. I lifted him by the waist and placed him on my lap, removing the lid so he could eat.

"Merci," He thanked as he grabbed the spoon to dig in.

Since he was on my lap, I couldn't get my work done, which meant I'd have to wait until he was done eating. I decided to lean against the back of the chair and relax for a bit. I slept pretty late yesterday since I had to review the sports issue a final time before today– the day we published it. My alarm woke me up five hours later.

I stared at Leo as he ate and released a heavy breath. I didn't doubt that putting him in daycare would make working so much easier, but I just couldn't. I didn't like being away from Leo for long, because panic would just settle in. I was always worried about him– I knew him best. What if someone gave him something he was allergic to? What if he got hurt? What if somebody just walked in and snatched him?

Maybe it would be silent in the office, but my mind would be a whirlwind of 'what ifs' and potentially dangerous scenarios.

Leo was safe with me in an office where I knew everybody and had the best security I could hire.

My stomach rumbled at the scent of the paella, having only had a store-bought smoothie for breakfast. Between dressing Leo, cleaning up the mess he made, and packing everything into my bag, I didn't have the time to eat a proper breakfast. I even forgot to pack myself lunch. Picking up my phone to text Emile, I made sure to push the lunchbox closer to Leo so the rice would fall back in and not on my desk.

A few minutes later, Leo was done eating. He even dropped the spoon back into the lunchbox and clicked the lid back on. I cleaned his mouth and hands with a wet wipe before letting him jump off to skip back towards his side of the room where his toys lay. I cleaned up the grains of rice that fell off his spoon and onto my desk, pulling my laptop back to me to continue working.

I asked Lili to call up Sarah, the Editor who wrote this sorry excuse for an article.

"I'm on it," She said. "Votre déjeuner arrivera dans dix minutes." [Your lunch gets here in ten minutes.]

As much as I didn't want to, I read through the annotated document a final time as I waited for her to call Sarah up here. She didn't necessarily write award-winning articles, having only been recently hired as a temporary, but they were never as shitty as this.

My phone buzzed on the desk, a text from Emile telling me that Sarah was waiting to be let it. I replied with a thumbs up, code to let her in. A few seconds later, there was a knock on my door.

"Come in," I yelled before glancing at Leo. I gave him a look that read 'keep quiet' and he placed a finger over his puckered up lips and nodded. I smiled, watching as the door opened up to reveal the Editor.

"You called for me, Madame Amity?" She asked, giving me a polite nod as I gestured towards the chair in front of me. Her gaze flickered between me and the piece of paper in front of me before recognition dawned on her face.

I tried to establish a proper relationship with everyone who worked in Fashionsitque, but I was known to be a perfectionist. I didn't like to settle for mediocrity– all our magazine issues had to be above and beyond, which was why I spent so much time and effort reviewing drafts and articles. So, when the work was subpar, I wasn't happy.

"Yeah, I wanted to talk to you about the article you sent to submit onto the website," I started, ignoring how she swallowed loudly. I pushed the paper towards her with the tips of my fingers, "Do you see anything wrong with it?"

Her gaze fell onto the paper covered in printer ink, my scribbles, and pink highlighter. Her eyes darted across it, sometimes stopping on a comment to read it, "Tu l'aimes pas?" She asked, her voice small. [You don't like it?]

I straightened up in my chair and released a frustrated breath, "Sarah," I said, my French accent coming out. "C'est mauvais." I deadpanned. [It's bad.]

Her shoulders dropped at my comment, but she didn't utter a word.

"You were supposed to write an article exploring how Elie Saab's recent fashion show was influenced by Arab culture. I'm talking makeup; the outfits; the music that played as the models walked down the catwalk. You barely delved into the culture or Saab's influences." I informed, trying to contain my aggravation. There were standards I expected them to meet, and the Editors always did. I rarely came across a bad article. "I can't publish this, Sarah."

She swallowed thickly but nodded nonetheless, "Je comprends, Madame Amity. I'm not knowledgable when it comes to the culture." [I understand, Ms. Amity.]

I blinked, "That's not a valid excuse. You could have done some research, contacted a scholar, or even someone who is of the ethnic background." I said, my tone clipped as I pulled the paper away from her line of sight. "I'm going to rewrite this article and will assign you another one in our next briefing. I expect better from you."

She nodded again, her hoop earrings bouncing wildly with her movement, "I'm sorry, madame. My next article will be excellent."

Her expression relaxed as I smiled at her words, "I hope so, Sarah. Thank you for your time."

"Bien sûr, Madame Amity," She said, standing up from the chair. With her chin tilting down, she kept her gaze on the floor as she muttered a, "Have a good day." [Of course, Ms. Amity.]

With that, she turned around and all but scurried out of the door. As soon as she walked out, I relaxed against my chair and leaned my head back, closing my eyes. Was this what Dylan felt like when he lectured me whenever I missed my deadlines?

A knock at the door made me sit up straight, and before I could tell them to give me a second, they let themself in.

"I come bearing gifts!" Isaac exclaimed, kicking the door shut with his foot as he advanced towards me, a takeaway bag in his hand.

"Zachy!" Leo shrilled, getting up to run towards Isaac, who picked him up effortlessly. Leo wrapped his arms around his neck and hugged him tight, making the adult pout at the adorable gesture as he hugged him back.

"How's it going little man?" He questioned, taking a seat on the chair opposite me. He placed the bag of food on the desk and reposition Leo so he was sitting on his lap, looking up at him. I unlocked the laptop and pulled the paper closer towards me so I could read my comments.

I wanted to finish this before five-thirty. Then, I'd go down to the wardrobe department to check up on Victor and finalize some things to do with the next issue that we had to start planning soon. Leo kept Isaac busy by telling him about everything that happened today. The milk he spilled this morning; the frame he broke earlier today; the lunch he just had.

"Sounds like you had an eventful day," Isaac quipped, glancing at me through the corner of his eyes before patting Leo's lap. "I need to talk to your mommy, though. Do you want to play a game on my phone?"

The three-year-old perked up at the question and nodded enthusiastically. Isaac unlocked the phone and opened up an app before giving it to Leo. My son thanked him and jumped off his lap, running towards the bench so he could concentrate on whatever the game was.

I didn't bother asking him why he was here since he did this often. Whenever practice ended early for him, he came over to the office to play with Leo, annoy me, or sit silently and scroll through his phone.

Isaac unpacked my lunch for me, a grilled chicken salad, "So," He started, uncapping the lid of the dressing before pouring it over the salad. "You want to tell me why the woman who walked out of your office looked like she was on the verge of tears?"

He closed the takeaway box and started shaking it wildly to incorporate the dressing into the salad, "She wrote a shitty article." I informed him, reading through an online post that contained images of Saab's recent fashion show.

"Ah," He breathed out in understanding. "How mean were you?"

He placed the fork in the salad and slid it towards me, "Thank you," I said, stabbing through a piece of chicken and an array of vegetables. "I wasn't mean. I just told her that it was bad and that I couldn't publish it. Then, she hit me with some bullshit excuse and I told her that it wasn't valid."

I chewed on my food as I zoomed into the model's outfit before going back to the article to write about the jewels sewn into the dress.

"Can you also explain why there are thirty people standing in the hallway, whispering to each other?" He asked as he picked up the article to read through it. "This her work?"

"Mhm," I hummed, nodding, placing another forkful of the salad into my mouth. "They're filming in an empty office down the hallway. Apparently, those people are on 'standby'." I air quoted the last words.

Isaac leaned back into the chair, his eyes drifting across the paper as he read through the article. I didn't miss the way his lip tugged up into a smirk, "Did the ex tell you that?"

I scowled, "Yes. As a matter of fact, he did." I grit out.

He placed the paper down, his eyebrows raising, "No shit? You willingly talked to him?" He asked, surprise lacing his voice. Then, he glanced down at the article and pointed at it, "That's not that bad."

"You don't work here– your comments are irrelevant," I retorted, glancing down at it in search of one of the notes I wrote. "And yes, I did. He's working here, isn't he? I can't fucking avoid the guy."

I really couldn't. After he tagged along with Leo and me when we went out for lunch, Dean would pop out of nowhere to talk to me. It was always a 'how are you' or 'can we go out for coffee?' or 'can we talk?'. I ignored him all the time. I didn't have the fucking time to pretend to be interested in whatever he had to tell me.

Zac snorted, "Sounds like you've got a stalker." He joked, glancing at Leo, whose tongue poked out as he tapped on his phone mercilessly. What kind of game did he fucking give him? "Why are you having lunch now? It's nearing five o'clock; isn't that a bit late?"

"I forgot about lunch," I replied absentmindedly, my fingers gliding across the keyboard to type up the article. I had two more paragraphs to write before I'd finish it.

"Forgot... about lunch," He repeated in disbelief. "You?"

"Yes, me. Why are you grilling me? This isn't a police interrogation."

"It's because I care, but that's a conversation for another day. You, Amber Amity, who almost castrated me for eating her chicken nuggets, forgot to eat lunch. The fuck were you doing to forget to eat?" He asked, trying to understand the situation.

"I was working," I told him, half-listening to what he said, trying to remember a sentence wanted to type in by repeating it in my head. "Speaking of which, could you zip it so I could finish?"

He blinked but didn't say anything after that. Instead, he stared at me thoughtfully through narrowed eyes, like he was trying to solve a puzzle. I ignored his burning gaze and swiped away from the almost-finished article to contact the photographer to get his permission to use the pictures on the magazine's website.

"You've changed." He stated, simply. He didn't say it in a bad way, but the way he said it didn't hint that he meant it nicely either. It was just a fact; a conclusion he came to after observing and reviewing the evidence.

"I'd hope so. It would be kind of weird to still act like a teenager when I'm in my mid-twenties," I retorted, clicking send on the email before swiping back to the article so I could finish the final paragraph. "What happened to you staying quiet?"

"You have no right to silence me, bitch," He bit back, a small smile on his lips and I chuckled. "You know that's not what I meant. Where did the fun, carefree Amber go?"

"You saying I'm not fun anymore?" I asked, offense seeping into my voice, an eyebrow quirked.

He nodded without any remorse, "Yeah. You used to be less uptight; go to parties; out with friends that weren't me–"

"Don't have the time anymore. I've got a three-year-old to take care of. Not to mention, I've got work to do."

"Exactly," He groaned, letting his head roll back. "It's always work, work, work. You never do stuff for fun anymore."

"I do fun stuff!" I defended, my voice a slow whine.

"Oh, yeah?" He challenged. "When was the last time you did something that had nothing to do with the magazine or Leo?"

"Hey," I snapped, ignoring the realization that he was right. "You don't see me complaining when you say we can't go to a restaurant because the food there would make your coach kill you. Remember that time you were late because of training, and when we got to the restaurant, you took one look at the menu and told us we're leaving your diet didn't let you eat anything there?"

I was complaining about him being late like I never was. If he actually got there on time, I would've been the late one.

"But I still have fun!" He replied, smiling at the memory. "Like, take today for example. I 'accidentally' kicked the football at Nelson's face. Sure, the coach made me do double the warmups when his nose started bleeding, but I was laughing the entire time. Even when I felt like my lungs were going to explode."

My nose crinkled, and he snapped his fingers before pointing them at me, "See! Right there! Amber four years ago would've asked if I recorded it– which I did by the way, but that doesn't matter. Now, you're all like, 'oh, no, violence! A bleeding nose is so unfunny, Zac!'" He made his pitch higher, trying to imitate my voice, and I rolled my eyes.

"I don't sound like that," I weakly riposted.

"Not the point," He clicked his tongue. "All I'm saying is that it's okay for you to let loose every once in a while."

"I can't take Leo to–"

He cut me off when he slapped his forehead, "Amber, you don't need to take your son everywhere. Hire a baby sitter–"

"I don't know if I can trust one–"

"Then leave him with a fucking friend," He clipped, eyes blazing with frustration. "You don't need to drown yourself in work every single day." He reached over to slide the laptop away from me and push its screen down. I opened my mouth to protest but he raised an arm, "You're going to take a break."

I gave my laptop a hopeful look before glaring at Isaac, "You better pray to God that the changes were saved." I seethed through a clenched jaw. "I need to finish that by today–"

"Says who?" He crossed his arms defiantly, leaning back into the chair. "You're the boss; you decide when it needs to be done."

"There are deadlines we need to meet," I told him, going to open my laptop. "I learned that the hard way, trust me."

He picked up my laptop and hugged it to his chest, "You'll finish it tomorrow morning. Get up, we're going out."

Leo lifted his head at the command, "Out? Like the park?"

Isaac smiled at Leo, "Sure, little man. Maybe we can grab some dinner after doing that. I'm not going to let your mother eat that rabbit food and say it's enough when I know for a fact she was too busy to have breakfast too."

I glanced at my son, who was bubbling with excitement at the proposal, and ignored Zac's unnecessary comment, "I've got to take care of some things at the wardrobe department... what are you doing?" I trailed off, watching as Isaac tossed my laptop on the other chair before getting up. He walked around the table, gripped my bicep, and pulled me up. Then, he bent down to pick up my tote and slung it over his shoulder. I dug my heels into the floor as he dragged me towards my office's door. "Let me go, Isaac."

"Get your jacket, Leo, we're going out," He ordered gently. Leo instantly launched off the bench, grabbed his jacket, and pulled it on, struggling with the arms, while running towards us. 

"Can I get my laptop, at least?" I asked, giving it a fleeting glance. "I usually take it home."

"Nope," He popped, dragging me out of the door. "You'll just work at home instead of sleep."

I wrenched my arm free, knowing that he was right about me needing a break. I'd never admit it to his face though; it would only boost his ego.

"You're insufferable." I huffed out as I pulled the hair tie on my wrist into my hair in a high ponytail. We stopped in front of the elevators, and I waved goodbye to Lili, who did the same from her desk. "Does my hair look fine?"

He glanced at me, "Always does," He said before opening his palm for his phone. Leo pouted but handed him the phone nonetheless. "My car's parked downstairs– hey, man."

I glanced at the elevator that just opened to find Dean standing in there, waiting to step off. I repressed the urge to throw my head back and groan, instead choosing to give him a tight-lipped smile. His face brightened at the sight of me.

"Hey. Isaac, right?" He asked with a grin. Zac nodded as Dean glanced at me. He rubbed the back of his neck, "Hey, Amber."

"Hi, Dean," I replied, trying not to let my frustration show. Isaac shot me an amused glance at my response, obviously sensing my exasperation.

"About the other night, I just wanted to apologize–" He started, but I cut him off with the shake of my head.

"Not now, please. I don't want you to apologize because you feel like you have to."

He's never approached me to talk about what happened. It was just whenever I was in the vicinity. If I bumped into him, like I just had, he'd bring it up, and that's how I knew that he wasn't sincerely apologizing. He just felt like he had to.

He blinked, clearly not having expected my refusal to listen to his 'apology'. He opened his mouth to say something but Isaac intervened, "Listen, man. I don't mean to include myself since this obviously doesn't concern me, but Amber's pretty exhausted with work and all right now. Maybe you guys can discuss this some other time?"

His lips flattened into a thin line, but he nodded in acceptance, "Of course. I'll see you around, Amber."

"Thanks," I sighed, and he smiled before stepping around me to get out of the elevator. Isaac put out an arm to stop the doors from closing and gestured for me to enter. I pulled Leo in with me and clicked the button that led to the ground floor.

"He's persistent, isn't he?" Isaac asked rhetorically, gripping the strap of the tote bag.

I let my head fall onto the side of his arm, "You don't even understand, Zachy."

The nickname earned me a shove that sent me flying onto the elevator's wall.

•••

"You sure this restaurant is good enough for your 'strict diet'?" I asked, pushing Leo's chair towards the table before taking a seat on the chair opposite Isaac's.

He opened the menu, "Ha-ha," He said steadily, voice dripping with sarcasm. "You know, the joke gets funnier when you repeat it for the twelfth time."

I gave him a sickly sweet smile before opening my menu, "Would you rather me talk about how you fell on your face earlier at the park?"

He was running after Leo, we were playing tag, and tripped on a root that was sticking out of the soil. Although he outstretched his arms to protect him from the fall, he still got a mouthful of dirt and the tiniest scratch on his cheek that was visible from where I was sitting.

"Wasn't my fault," He clipped, flipping through the page with an unnecessary force. "What are you getting?"

I shrugged, "'Dunno. I need the kid's menu for Leo, though." I said, my eyes drifting across the Italian restaurant in search of someone dressed in the uniform. My gaze fell on someone who was staring back at me. He was analyzing me, trying to see if he recognized me, and I did the same, quirking an eyebrow when his gaze never wavered. I rolled my eyes before waving a waiter over. I asked for a kid's menu and he nodded before returning with one.

I picked up the laminated piece of paper and read through it, "Veux-tu une pizza, Leo?" I asked, looking at my child, who was looking around the restaurant in awe. [Do you want a pizza, Leo?]

His head snapped towards me and he nodded with wide eyes, "Pepperoni, please!"

"Mais bien sûr, mon cher," I said softly, ruffling his hair before glancing back at the menu. [But of course, my dear.]

"The little man has good taste," Isaac commented with a nod, making Leo grin at him. "I think I'm going to get the Bresaola pizza."

My mouth watered at the thought of eating the Italian delicacy, "I'm probably just going to get a classic Margharita."

"Bo-oring," Isaac belted out.

"Fuck off," I snapped, eyes narrowed. "I'll get what I want to get. Either keep your opinions to yourself, or shove them up your ass."

"There's the Amber I know. Relentless as shit," Then, his gaze drifted to Leo, who was now staring at the chandelier hung above us. "Maybe we shouldn't swear as much as we do around Leo."

I shrugged, "If people get offended by someone cursing, then that's their problem. What matters is his personality."

"Tell that to my mom," Isaac chuckled. "She still hits Nick upside the head whenever he says 'shit'."

I laughed at the information, "Maybe she's just looking for an excuse to hit him. Nick is a very punchable person."

"Mom doesn't need an excuse to smack us," He snorted. His smile faltered when he glanced to the side, and I followed his line of vision to find the man who was staring at me earlier standing in front of us. I discreetly slid my hand underneath the table to grab Leo's hand in a tight grip.

"I'm sorry to interrupt," He said, his voice low but kind. He looked directly at me, "You're Amber Amity, aren't you?"

My eyes narrowed into slits, "Who's asking?"

He blinked before realization dawned at him, "Sorry, didn't realize how creepy that sounded. My younger sister is obsessed with you and your magazine– Fashionistique, is it?"

At his words, a smile graced my lips as I felt my heart swell, "Yeah, I'm Amber." I said my grip on Leo loosening. 

He grinned before pulling his phone out of his jacket's pocket, "I'm sorry if this is too much to ask, but do you mind recording a video for her? She'd freak out."

I nodded, my smile widening if possible. He pressed the record button and handed me the phone. I glanced up at him, "What's her name?"

"Eva."

I looked back into the camera and recorded the video, feeling slightly awkward since I've never done this before. Sure the paparazzi followed me around Paris sometimes, but I've never had somebody actually recognize me. It felt nice; my work was reaching somebody, and they were a fan of it. That's all I ever wanted to do.

I handed him the phone back with a smile, "I hope that's okay."

"It's great!" He said with a nod, turning his phone off and pocketing it. His gaze drifted to Isaac before it landed on Leo. He smiled at the three-year-old before looking back at me. "Thank you so much, she'll love it."

"It wasn't a problem; I'm happy she likes the magazine."

"Sorry for interrupting your dinner," He apologized, taking a step back. "I'll let you be now. Thanks again."

"Bye!" I exclaimed, waving a hand. He returned it before spinning on the heel of his foot, walking out of the restaurant.

"Look at you," Isaac sang, wiggling his shoulders. "Getting recognized and shit. Welcome to stardom."

"I don't see anybody here wanting to take a picture of you," I replied, the smile still on my face.

"It's 'cause it's dark here. They can't see my face," He explained, tapping a finger against his temple, "It's called being intelligent. You'll get the hang of it soon."

"That was a nice thing for him to do for his sister," I commented, flagging down the same waiter that brought us our menus.

It was unbelievable how much an outing and meeting a fan boosted my morale. Maybe Isaac was right; maybe relaxing a bit was good for me.

•••

— 14/07/20

I love Isaac.

Anyone have any book recommendations for me (no supernatural shit plz).

Don't forget to check out the bonus chapter in DWI!