T for: Language and future mild sexual scenes ;)
I have had this idea awhile; please review as it means the world to me.
Disclaimer: The mortal instruments and all its characters unfortunately belong to Cassandra Clare.
Thin black tights. Check.
Short black pencil skirt. Check.
Ruffled low-cut top. Check.
Sculpted half-length jacket. Check.
Black court shoes. Check.
I stood back and checked myself out in the mirror. A quick nod and I'm satisfied. I looked good. But then, in the media business, you have to. Image is everything. You have to have a strong front, or you'll be torn to pieces. No-one messes with me, I am the master of fronts.
I brush my teeth meticulously twice. I can't give any of the girls in my department any more reasons to bitch about me.
I finished the look with a silver wrist watch, touch of foundation, mascara and lip gloss. I even straightened my wild red hair.
I slip on my knee-length beige coat and fasten it. A black handbag and I'm ready.
I make my way downstairs and through my spacious, empty two bedroom house to the front door, which I open and step outside into the harsh January winds. No car there.
I check my watch.
Then, the taxi pulls down the drive, screeching to an abrupt halt in front of me.
I open the door and take a seat on the soft leather, silently. He pulls out and starts down the icy road.
"Sorry, miss, the traffic's terrible today," says the cabbie apologetically, a small smile on his face.
"Well you should have compensated for that. You're over five minutes late. Do you understand the meaning of 'sharp'?" I snap, furiously.
"Won't happen again," the cabbie says, the smile gone from his face.
"You bet it won't, because you won't have a job by then," I snarl. I probably wouldn't report him this time, but I'm not going to let some bloke, a cabbie of all people, walk all over me just because I'm a woman. They think they can't get away with it after some kind words or a wink.' Ha, I'm not that girl', I thought. 'Not anymore.'
I threw back the covers and stretched quietly, remembering at the last second that I wasn't alone. I glanced back at the blonde who was curled up on the other side of the bed. Her hair splayed out and I could see her face. 'Ugh', I thought, 'definitely looked fitter when I was smashed last night.'
I moved my way to the wardrobe, wading through the piles of that bint's and my discarded clothes. 'What was her name again? Melanie? Millie? Ah, fuck it, who cares anyway?'
Scrounging around, I manage to find a clean suit shirt and pants, probably because I hadn't worn anything smart in so long. I pull them on and sloppily put on a thin black tie.
I check the clock again. 7:15am.
I run swiftly through the cramped flat and in seconds I'm pouring dry cereal into my mouth. 'What person actually gets up this early?' I curse my father yet again for cutting me off, for saying I needed to find my own way in this world. Now I have to get a bloody job like… poor people. At least he managed to pull some strings and get me a cool job. I get to work at a magazine, knowing all the gossip before everyone else, sleeping with all my colleagues and that's not even the best part. I smile to myself.
I passed my mirror and looked at myself, tensing my abs. I leave my hair rumpled and messy, girls always say how sexy it is. If I wasn't me right now, I'd be turned on. I wink at my reflection, satisfied with my Adonis body.
I grab my leather jacket and slip on some random shoes that are lurking in my hallway. Delving into the jacket pockets, I take out my riding gloves and pull them on. Pushing open the creaky front door, I stride over to my frosty bike.
I put on my black helmet, rev the engine, and flick down the visor. An image of a certain redhead fills my mind and I grin in anticipation. She's going to be so pissed.
Then I speed off, not even caring when I cut in front of a taxi.
I was in a good mood for me, until that moron cut in front of us. I rolled down my window and yelled, giving him the finger, but he didn't so much as glance back. I muttered profanities under my breath as I rolled up the window to rid the goose bumps from the freezing air away. Someone was going to pay for ruining my morning.
The taxi slowed down as we entered the business park. I got out as soon as he pulled over and literally threw the money at him before stomping off in the direction of the main doors.
I reached the intercom and pushed down the button for Urban Magazine, tapping my foot impatiently as I wasted precious seconds of my life.
"Hello, Aline from Urban Magazine speaking. Who is this?" comes the crackly reply.
"Clarissa Fray." I say coldly.
"One moment," Aline mutters, all the warmth in her voice disappearing. She purposely leaves me out here at least a minute before buzzing me in. What a bitch.
I walk in, and through the corridors and up the stairs to Urban Magazine's area. I push the door open and glare at Aline who is manning the front desk. We've never got on, but mainly because she doesn't care about her job, only flirting with anything with a pulse. You might call her a whore; in fact, I often do behind closed doors. I am analyzing her revealing, vomit-inducing boob-tube when the editor, my boss and friend Jocelyn, intercepts me, a panicked look on her face.
"Hey, how are you? Cold, isn't it? Yeah, anyway. Remember when I told you we had a new guy coming to work here?" She squeaks, uncharacteristically fast, not giving me time to reply to any of the first two questions.
"No? You didn't tell me that!" I say defensively, because in all honestly she hadn't.
"Urm, don't be silly Clarissa! Of course I did, now I want you to be nice to him, ok? Please? For me?" Jocelyn asks imploringly.
"What? Why wouldn't I be nice to him?" I ask, genuinely confused. 'Did she really think of me that lowly?'
"Oh, no. No reason! Now I must get back to work, he'll be here any second!" Jocelyn pouts, running off in the direction of her office.
'Who'll be here any second?' I wanted to ask. I didn't though, as I was distracted by a gruff voice coming through the intercom. It was across the room near Aline though, so I couldn't catch the name.
I didn't want to be nosey, so I decided I'd spent too long in the cow's company and I walked through the doors, as Aline buzzed the guy in.
Looking across the room I spotted Alec, one of the four people who worked for us whom I actually liked. It had a lot to do with the fact he was gay, and therefore, unable to hurt me. I walked through the aisles of colleagues, who'd stopped their chatter as I entered and were now furiously typing. I revelled in that power.
"Hey Alec," I say quietly, as I don't like my workers thinking I've gone soft.
"Oh hey, hun. Have you got that file-thingy for me?" Alec inquired.
"Yeah, it's just in my bag…" I start, before trailing off as I realise I don't have my bag. Shit, I think, I left it on the front desk. "Two seconds," I say, walking rapidly back to the front office, chin up.
I briskly push open the doors, before freezing at the sight in front of me.
A man was leaning over the desks, murmuring huskily to a flustered looking Aline. I couldn't help but notice he was impossibly beautiful. His golden hair cast a perfect shadow over his face, making him look mysterious. His biceps bulged beneath his shirt, but in a good way.' In a very good way,' I thought, my body tingling.
He had noticed my entry and stood upright, meeting my awed gaze. The mystery was shattered
"Oh hi, Clary, how have you been?" he asked smirking, completely unsurprised.
Clary just stared at me, gawping.
"Speechless? Yeah, I can have that effect on people," I say, my eyes twinkling mischievously. She looked different. I'd remembered her as a short and sweet kind of girl, but this was something else. She wore a figure hugging jacket, which strategically showed off her small curves, and her red hair was just slightly wavy, falling down to just above her waist like a scarlet waterfall. Her skirt was had ridden up a bit, where it now rested mid-thigh, showing off her pretty legs.
She looked sexy, I realised with a shock. I mentally yelled at myself for even thinking it, I couldn't be attracted to this girl. I'd been down that path before, and now all I wanted was revenge. So, I kept my face tactically unsurprised, pretending that the way she looked had as little effect on me as the overweight, menopausal cleaner I had passed a few minutes ago.
She had got over her scare and was now looking at me with such a cold look I almost shivered. This girl was messing me up.
"Hello, Mr. Wayland. So you'll be working here for the time being?" Clary asked coolly.
'What the fuck happened to her?' I asked myself. This was going to be difficult. My eyes raked her body up and down, remembering she said she hated that. She glowered menacingly. 'Feisty,' I thought,' I should not find that attractive, I should not find that attractive'.
"For the considerable future I believe." I intone, not managing to hold back a smile when her green eyes flash with annoyance, and something else.
"Well then, Jonathon, if that's the case then you should work on not arriving ten minutes late. Oh, and also, my name's Clarissa, and you'd do a good job remembering that!" Then she flounced out, head held high as she trotted off.
Jonathon? No-one called me that anymore. No-one. I stared after her, daggers in my eyes. And since when did she go by 'Clarissa'? She said she hated when people called her that.
Someone cleared their throat and I remembered I wasn't alone; I whirled round and looked at the girl, who was presently sticking her chest out and fluttering her eyelashes.
"What did you DO to her? I've never seen her so freaked!" The girl (Ally?) asked, looking like a duck as she tried to smile and pout at the same time. I winked at her, and she visibly swooned.
"Me and Clarissa Fray have history…" I say seductively.
"You? You have history with that… thing?" She asks in disbelief, the shock on her face almost comical.
"Yeah, when did she get so uptight?" I ask, genuinely curious.
"She's a heartless bitch." The woman snarls. Obviously Clary wasn't particularly popular.
"Ok, well I better get to work." I murmur deeply, making her shiver.
"Call me!" The girl pleads desperately after me, flicking her dark hair behind her shoulder. She wasn't too bad looking, I thought, maybe I'll give her a go.
I leave the room, heading for my new bosses room. Trying not to think of how cute Clary's bum looked in that skirt.
I stomped into Jocelyn's office, my heart pounding and my gaze red with anger.
"What is Jace bloody Wayland doing here!" I explode.
"I hired him." She dead panned.
"You WHAT? Why?" I didn't understand, why would she do this to me?
"I thought he would be a positive addition to the team." She says quietly.
I fall into the wide red leather chair. My head finds my hands.
"You thought wrong," I murmur almost inaudibly.
"I didn't realize you were still so hung up on him…" Jocelyn replies apologetically.
"I am not 'hung up' on him," I growl, "I hate that player!"
I sink even more into the chair as I remember that I was attracted to him, that my body tingled when I saw him.' I cannot believe I thought he was cute!' My face burned in shame.
Jocelyn moves around the desk and hugs me, which at first I reject but then I accept the embrace, burying my red hair into hers. She is basically a twenty year older version of me, except maybe nicer. Almost everyone thinks she's my mom. She's been that figure in my life I suppose for the five years I've worked at this company. She ends the hug before I'm ready and looks at me seriously.
"Hun, it's been four years. You haven't had a proper relationship." She tells me. 'Oh really? Thanks for the fucking update,' I think.
"I'm married to my work. Like you." I say stubbornly.
"Honey, I'm only allowed that excuse because I'm a 50-year-old widow," She condescends, stroking my cheek like I was a child. I have an over-whelming urge to curl into a ball and cry, but that's not me. I can't go back on all the progress I've made. So my expression hardens and I am once again the Ice Woman.
"Ok then. I see how it is. Just as a note, what was it you hoped to gain from him as an employee?" I interrogate harshly, as I stand from my crumpled position and stare squarely in her eyes.
"I'd hoped you could make up your differences… you were so much happier when you were together," She says wistfully, her eyes tearing slightly.
All I wanted to do was fall to the floor and tell her everything. Tell her how I walked in on him with another woman. Tell her how it broke my heart. But I couldn't. Weakness was fatal. So I said the only thing I could think of.
"Happiness is over-rated."
I leave Jocelyn looking after me desperately and open the door, to find Jace standing outside the door, poised to knock.
I try to tell myself that kicking him in the groin is a bad idea, but my conscience was still tired at this time in the morning, so it couldn't think of any actual good reasons.
It was so tempting…
So, that's why, in the split second that followed, while Jace was still looking surprised, I lashed out powerfully with my knee, in an act that I would later plead as a 'momentary loss in concentration'. Only when he was keeled over groaning, did I realize that everyone in the company was looking at me, astonished.
Hope you enjoyed, it was fun to write, and hopefully you want me to carry this on as much as I want to.
Please review if you liked it