"What an absolute prick," Olivia said over her third lemon martini, the alcohol warming her cheeks with a rosy tint. "I honestly feel like we could go to Peoples magazine with this."

Molly sipped on her drink, the gin and tonic running down her throat like a salve for her internal wounds. She was on her second double and was ready for two or three more. Anything to forget the day. "Prick doesn't even begin to cover it though. I've never met someone so egotistical."

"You could make so much money selling this story."

Molly narrowed her eyes, "you know I want to do? Crash the Audi he probably drives."

"We could totally stalk the building and crash into it when we see an Audi driving out."

"I love it. Who needs to spend time working or making money, let's spend all our free time stalking the guy."

The two dissolved into a fit of giggles, which worked to slightly ease the embarrassment churning inside of Molly's chest. She still couldn't truly wrap her mind around the events of this morning, and it felt like a bizarre dream – or rather, nightmare. Not only had she met William Harding today, but she'd been interviewed by him, told off by him, and had sassed him out too – all in one day. She felt oddly proud for standing up for herself but it was overturned by the sheer stupidity of the entire interaction. As soon as she'd relayed the story to Liv, her cousin had demanded they go get drinks to properly assess and pick apart what had happened. They'd decided on Insomnia since it was Thursday, and martinis were $5.00 – a recipe for disaster, but they decided 21 was still an acceptable age to make bad decisions on the back end of five-dollar martinis.

Liv flagged the waitress down to order another round, "was he as least ugly in real life?"

Molly groaned, slumping down on clasped hands, "No. He was hot, Liv. Like, unfairly hot."


"I know," Molly hiccupped, "I hope his dick is really small though"

"I bet you it is. He probably just got dumped the night before because of his micro-penis."

Molly nodded, "Which, I'm not hating on – if you have a small dick, it's not your fault -."


"But if you're an asshole, it makes me hate you even more." Molly finished.

"Exactly," Liv slurred enthusiastically before turning to the attending waitresses, "two more martinis please."


Molly stumbled up the door to her china town apartment, smack in the middle of a dumpling joint and a sushi restaurant. She was convinced that the sushi restaurant was a front for some drug smuggling business because some seriously shady folk always came around, holding duffels of bags and briefcases. There was also a white van that was permanently parked across the street and she could've sworn she'd spotted some type of camera lens peering out from behind the window a few years ago. Nobody would believe her but she was almost certain that there was some sort of FBI investigation going on. "Just you watch," she slurred and waved to the white van before opening her building door. Her apartment was on the second floor and she walked up the narrow stairs and clumsily picked up the mail piling up outside of their door. Olivia had met some guy at the bar and had decided to go home with him. Unsurprising, considering Olivia had always been a total catch with guys chasing her all throughout high school and university.

Molly sifted through the mail as she stumbled inside the apartment. McDonalds coupons, bills, a wedding invitation for both Liv and Molly for a family friend's wedding.

A letter from her dad.

She immediately discarded it into the trashcan without opening it. Nope, not today. She had enough shit to deal with without adding emotional manipulation from her father to her list.

She hadn't seen her dad since she was thirteen, the same age she had lost her mother to cancer. It had been the worst year of her life. Too young to even properly process and understand why her mom was slowly wasting away in front of her, the only person that she could depend on had left her too. He had spiralled quickly, getting hooked on meth and narcotics, and had been arrested for drug trafficking by the time she was starting her freshman year of high school. She had been taken into state custody immediately and had bounced from foster home to foster home her entire life until she finally started university and was able to support herself. Even though her dad was still alive, it had always felt like she'd lost both of her parents in the same year. At thirteen, she had been forced to learn how to fend for herself. Olivia was the only family member she had, and she hadn't had it easy either. She was the daughter of two alcoholics and had barely stayed out of state care herself.

After everything he had put her through, she had no interest in speaking to him ever again. After nearly a decade of radio silence, he had randomly started reaching out to her for God knows what reason, and she wanted nothing to do with it.

Too drunk to think about the letter any further, she stumbled to the bathroom to run a 2AM bath and then turned around to drink some water right from the bathroom sink's tap.

She eventually made it to her bedroom where she crashed on her bed, the ceiling slowly swimming around her. Shit, she had a shift at the store tomorrow. Groggily, she turned on her laptop to check her mail for the schedule, and then felt anger rush through her when she saw an email from WTA Consulting.

She clicked on it and narrowed her eyebrows as she read a standard rejection letter.


We appreciate your interest in WTA Consulting.

After careful consideration, we have decided to move forward with other candidates. We really appreciate your time and consideration. We will keep your profile on file and be in touch for any future opportunities.

We wish you the best of luck in your search.


WTA Consulting

Ugh, she muttered. That was so irritating. After all that, they had the audacity to send a no-reply draft rejection letter?! She clicked the delete button swiftly and went back to finding her schedule when her laptop pinged to alert her of another email.

The name William Harding popped up in the notification icon, and she gritted her teeth. The nerve. He had the audacity to put her on some sort of spam e-mail list after sending her a rejection letter?! What was he trying to do? Rub her rejection in her face with an email about his success?

The screen was swimming in front of her eyes, but she angrily clicked 'reply' without opening the email and drafted a quick response to whoever the moderator of the email list was. Despite trying her hardest to type coherently, the keyboard was swimming in front of her eyes and she couldn't differentiate the letter 'q' from 'p.' Nonetheless, she drafted a response and clicked send.

With that, she quickly slumped back onto her bed, forgetting to check her shift schedule, or to take the bath that she'd run, as she fell asleep.


Mere six hours later, Molly groaned out loud as the incessant ringing of her shrill alarm pierced through her foggy mind and shattered her peaceful, drunk slumber.

The robotic voice of her smartphone filled her room, "Wake up. The alarm has rung. It is 8.30AM."

"Nooooo," she moaned, and sluggishly turned onto her belly to bury her head into her pillow.

"Wake up. The alarm has rung. It is -."

"Ugh," she flipped over and turned off the alarm on her phone, her brain working at the speed of a sloths.

She stayed there for nearly ten minutes before her alarm started ringing again. This time, she cracked her eyes open and frowned as she saw sunlight spill into her room, and the sounds of the loud bustle of China Town start to creep through the window.

God, drinking on a Thursday was a bad idea. She swallowed to moisten her dry throat and lay there as she mentally calculated how much time she had until work.


She hadn't checked when her shift at the shop started. Begrudgingly, she opened her email and scrolled down to the schedule and sighed when she saw her shift started at 9.30.
She wouldn't even get to sleep in and nurse her hangover.

So many bad decisions in one day. It was truly remarkable.

Lying there, with one hand on her uneasy stomach, she mourned the decision to go out last night. Resting for a moment, it was then that a foggy memory flashed through her mind.

She had responded to an email and couldn't exactly remember what the email had said or what she has said in response.

Lips flapping as she sighed out, she looked at her phone again and accessed her Gmail account.

When she opened the email, the air in her throat hitched and she froze, paralyzed.

Wait, what?

Ms. May,

I have a proposal for you.

Meet me at the Fairmont at 930 PM tomorrow, I'll make a reservation for two.

Warm regards,


She blinked. A personal email from William Harding?

How had she missed this last night?

Her dread deepened.

What had she said in response?

This is why you don't get hammered,
she bit her lip as she scrolled down.

She cringed.

Dear WTA Consulting,

I'd prefer never to be contacted by this organisation again.

Please remove me from your mailing list.


A/N: Hi everyone! I hope you're enjoying reading this as much as I am writing this. Teehee ^.^ - Next update hopefully within the week. Let me know your thoughts! 3