We all know who owns these enchanting characters. I wish I did, but Stephenie Meyer does. They just mess with my head, having a will of their own.
This is my first attempt writing a drabble, but lately I have found I enjoy the fast pace and intense plots.
I hope you will like my story. Nuff said.
Out of Oblivion
Angela shuffled her feet, staring down at her knotted hands. "Uhm, Edward?" she called warily from the door. Her boss was torturing his hair, probably going over numbers that weren't as good as he wanted them to be.
He wadded up a section of papers and tossed the ball towards the trashcan. "What, Angela?"
"You know that assistant that works here? Uhm, my assistant?" She cleared her throat.
Edward peered up through the dark fringe of his lashes as she captured his attention. "What about her?"
"Again?" Edward's brows shot up incredulously. Angela nodded. "You're about the nicest person that I know. How is it possible that you can't manage to hold on to an assistant?" His eyes were somewhat guarded, wary even.
She smiled briefly. "It may have something to do with the fact that they can't strap my terribly handsome boss down or the fact that they have their own agenda—correct that—music career to fulfill… or perhaps, even a combination of both?" she phrased her statement as a careful question.
Edward snickered, but valued the fact that Angela didn't beat around the bush. "I confess that I'm to blame once again. She kind of, sort of, may have come on to me last night. As a side note, this one tried to black mail me, but I had the courtesy to inform her that my office is monitored in case gross moral turpitude were to occur in here. When she realized she had no leverage, she left." Edward's eyes were apologetic. He hated the fact that his looks had cost his favored assistant yet another set of hands to help her out.
Angela smiled ruefully. "Little do they know." Edward smirked in response. "So that's why she quit," Angela interceded and sighed. This wasn't the first time that this had happened.
"I'm sorry, Ang," Edward said sympathetically.
"It's not your fault, Edward. It's just that I have the sales portfolios to finish on top of everything else. I'm not sure how to manage it all by myself. Oh… I don't mean to whine about it."
"You're not whining, Angela. It's not your fault that I'm hopeless at finding you proper help." His eyes sparked with sudden enthusiasm. "How about I leave myself out of the decision process this time and you have free reign on who you want to hire to help you out."
"Edward!" Angela gasped.
"I'm serious, Ang. It's your job, your assistant and your call. What would I do if you decided to quit because I'm a hopeless boss?"
Angela quirked a brow. "Stuff envelopes yourself?"
"Hardly." Edward chuckled. "Listen, call a temp agency and see who you can find. You need the help this week. Make it work."
Angela's pose relaxed at the thought of not having to deal with this week on her own. "You knowyou totally sound like Tim Gunn."
"Who?" Edward's brows shot up.
"Über hot and über gay guy from Project Runway. You should know him," she snidely countered.
"Very funny, but I thought the name sounded familiar. Alice has a huge crush on him. He's the man with the silver hair, right?"
"Right. I'll get back to work." Angela's eyes were suddenly calculating. "Aro's holding auditions today, correct?"
"I believe so," Edward answered, with a puzzled look. His thoughts honed in on the peculiar man in the offices a floor above his. A small smile curled at his lips. "Who the hell holds auditions for receptionists?"
"Aro." They groaned in unison, knowing the answer.
Angela bit her lip to hold her tongue, but she couldn't. "I think he takes pictures for his own personal gratification," she mumbled.
"I wouldn't be surprised if he did," Edward answered. "What are you planning to do?"
"Trying an untapped resource. If it doesn't work out, I'll call the temp agency." She paused before heading out the door. "You sure that you don't want a say in whom I pick?"
"Absolutely none. I want absolutely nothing to do with whom you chose. Look where it got you so far! You may want to aim for someone who at least knows who the President is if you're going to Aro's."
"Duly noted," Angela said, grasping the handle to close the door behind her.
"How's Ben doing?" Edward asked with concern, almost as an afterthought.
"He's fine. It wasn't his appendix, just a nasty stomach bug." Internally, Angela was thrilled that Edward made the effort to remember that her boyfriend had been sick last week and he cared enough to ask how he was doing.
"Glad to hear it."
"How's your Ben?" Angela asked cautiously.
"He's good. Pretty great, actually." Edward's smile was small, but warm. His phone started buzzing as Angela closed the door behind her.
Taking advantage of her newfound inspiration, Angela swiftly moved for the elevators. The Elevator music seemed to drag to an end as the small 'ping' sounded and the doors slid open.
Perhaps, this wasn't such a great idea after all. At least a hundred and fifty people—correct that—women were huddled in the lobby of Aro's Casting Bureau. Most of the women were blond, in short tight skirts, and wore tops with plunging necklines. They were absolutely no good to have working anywhere near Edward Cullen. They had tried that, even the girls with nice credentials seemed to swallow up his charm and forget to focus on the reason why they were here in the first place—which was to work. As a side note, women weren't really Edward's point of focus.
Searching the throng of women, excluding one after the other, Angela quickly gave up hope. Temp Agency it was then.
A slight form emerged from the crowd, aiming steadfast for the elevator. She was different from all the others. Sure, she was in a somewhat tight skirt, but hers went below her knee. Her crisp white blouse was buttoned—all the way to the top. No nail polish, hardly any make-up, and what seemed to be really long hair neatly braided and rolled into a sensible bun at the back of her neck.
"Who's the President?" Angela asked bluntly.
"Which country?" The girl asked timidly, while raising her brown eyes to meet Angela's face.
Edward's assistant gaped. "The United States of America?" The 'where else' was left unsaid.
"Well, the answer can only be as good as the question. You might as well have been referring to the President of France, who in that case would have been Nicolas Sarkozy. However, now that you clarify, Barack Obama," she answered quietly. Though her words were somewhat snide, her tone wasn't.
Angela smiled. "You need a job?"
"Desperately," the girl answered without hesitation.
"You're hired. Come with me."
"Where?" The girl asked, digging in her sensible heels.
"Downstairs, to my office. You got yourself a job." Angela pressed the button, calling the elevator.
"Doing what exactly?"
"You're my assistant," Angela clarified.
"And what do you do?" The brown eyed woman asked.
"I am Edward Cullen, Executive Director of Cullen Music's assistant," she answered, while impatiently pushing the button again.
"So basically, I would be Edward Cullen, Executive Director of Cullen Music's Assistant's Assistant?" She quirked a brow.
"Sounds about right. Is there a problem?"
The brown haired girl shrugged. "Not for me."
"Good. Do you have a name?"
"Angela Webber." They shook hands as the elevator opened. "Welcome to Cullen Music."
So this was my first chapter. What do you think? Do you want to read more?
I want to use a few words thanking Chartwilightmom for her loyal support every time I lost my mind and chase a plot bunny around. She's an awesome listener and pushed me to write this. Thanks for pre-reading and encouraging me.
Thanks to my faithful beta Dazzled Eyes22 for her skill and thoughtful feedback.
As said this is a drabble so updates will be once a day, don't kill me if I miss one on occasion, and the pace will be fast.
Now, please leave me with a thought and I will see you all tomorrow.
I'm on Twitter. Elvirina_Nelly