Arnold
I am outside the office of that little brat. I found out that all the flowers I’ve sent end up in the same place—the garbage. This time she has to receive them because I’m delivering them myself.
I take the elevator up to the floor where her office is. It’s a nice place—just as lovely as she is. When the metal box stops, I step out with my signature triumphant stance.
The secretary looks up when she sees me standing in front of her. I can tell she admires me; not to brag, but my mom passed on her looks to me. Although I must admit I also have a lot of my father in me.
"Good afternoon. I’m looking for Miss Charlene Sawyer," I greet her and she smiles. She brushes her hair back while fixing it and licks her lips a little.
"Do you have an appointment with her?" she asks me kindly.
