Sequel: Picking Up the Pieces ›
Bringing the Devil Out of Me
Four
When I arrived at the apartment Saturday evening, I had my suitcases, laptop bag, and box of small knicknacks already packed in the car. I walked up to the apartment building, a nicer looking building in the middle of the city, only a few blocks from where I worked, and pushed open the door. I glanced around before spotting a sign that showed where all of the rooms were. I walked over to the elevator after reading that apartments 250-300 were on the 25th floor. The elevator arrived quickly and I stepped inside, pressing the button labeled 25.
I took a deep breath and knocked on the door labeled 290. I waited for a few moments in silence before the door swung open.
"You must be Alice!" a tall, thin, smiling man said. I felt my eyes widen as I took in the big brown eyes, the dark, straight, slicked back hair, and the soul patch. It wasn't Mark...it was Marc! My mind screamed.
"Yes. And you're...you're Marc-Andre Fleury!" I said, surprise filling my voice. He chuckled and gestured for me to step into the apartment. It was a nice, simple apartment. There was a nice grey sofa, a matching love seat, and a chair with an ottoman surrounding a modern black coffee table. The walls were white and the hardwood floors were a very nice, light color.
"Very nice." I said quietly.
"You like it? Come, let me show you the room," he said, ushering me through the living room, past the kitchen, and into a hallway with 3 doors. There was a door to both my left and right, as well as a door in front of me. Marc tugged open the door to the left and stepped aside. I walked into the room and felt my jaw drop slightly. There was a gorgeous queen bed made of black wrought iron and a classy black bureau against the back wall, while a black desk with a matching chair was in the back left corner of the room. Other than the furniture, and a small closet of course, the room was empty.
"It's perfect!" I said happily, turning to Marc. He grinned happily, flashing bright white teeth at me. He is such a cutie I thought, smiling back at him.
"So you're a sports journalist?" Marc asked, sitting at the small kitchen table across from me. I nodded and sipped my glass of water.
"Yeah. I majored in English, but almost my entire portfolio was compiled of sports writing, especially hockey. I got the job on the spot too, which is a relief," I explained. Marc gave me a puzzled look and muttered something in French before smiling.
"You ran into Sidney the other day, didn't you?" he asked, his words becoming more layered with his accent.
"Yeah, I did. What, he told you about it?" I asked, slightly surprised.
"He said that he saw a cute girl and that she was interviewing for a reporting job," Marc chuckled. I blushed and shook my head.
"He seemed a little spacey to me," I admitted, shrugging.
"Yeah, he does that sometimes," Marc laughed.
I took a deep breath and knocked on the door labeled 290. I waited for a few moments in silence before the door swung open.
"You must be Alice!" a tall, thin, smiling man said. I felt my eyes widen as I took in the big brown eyes, the dark, straight, slicked back hair, and the soul patch. It wasn't Mark...it was Marc! My mind screamed.
"Yes. And you're...you're Marc-Andre Fleury!" I said, surprise filling my voice. He chuckled and gestured for me to step into the apartment. It was a nice, simple apartment. There was a nice grey sofa, a matching love seat, and a chair with an ottoman surrounding a modern black coffee table. The walls were white and the hardwood floors were a very nice, light color.
"Very nice." I said quietly.
"You like it? Come, let me show you the room," he said, ushering me through the living room, past the kitchen, and into a hallway with 3 doors. There was a door to both my left and right, as well as a door in front of me. Marc tugged open the door to the left and stepped aside. I walked into the room and felt my jaw drop slightly. There was a gorgeous queen bed made of black wrought iron and a classy black bureau against the back wall, while a black desk with a matching chair was in the back left corner of the room. Other than the furniture, and a small closet of course, the room was empty.
"It's perfect!" I said happily, turning to Marc. He grinned happily, flashing bright white teeth at me. He is such a cutie I thought, smiling back at him.
"So you're a sports journalist?" Marc asked, sitting at the small kitchen table across from me. I nodded and sipped my glass of water.
"Yeah. I majored in English, but almost my entire portfolio was compiled of sports writing, especially hockey. I got the job on the spot too, which is a relief," I explained. Marc gave me a puzzled look and muttered something in French before smiling.
"You ran into Sidney the other day, didn't you?" he asked, his words becoming more layered with his accent.
"Yeah, I did. What, he told you about it?" I asked, slightly surprised.
"He said that he saw a cute girl and that she was interviewing for a reporting job," Marc chuckled. I blushed and shook my head.
"He seemed a little spacey to me," I admitted, shrugging.
"Yeah, he does that sometimes," Marc laughed.
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just saying, transferring all of this to mibba is a pain in the ass -.-'