Page 7 of King of Justice

Sophie

Just as I had predicted, the power went out and suddenly, we were in the dark. A second later, the emergency light came on. It was dim, but better than nothing. The rattling of the old windows made the wind sound more dramatic, while I knew that soon it was going to get a lot colder.

“Great!” I heard him holler from the meeting room before he walked out, carefully so as to not bump into anything. “Is this all we’ve got?” He pointed at the emergency light.

“It’s better than nothing.” I stood up and slipped my arms into the sleeves of my coat, zipping it up at the front. “How’s your phone?”

“Five percent.” He shook his hand with the device, gesturing at how useless it would soon become.

Sitting back down, I scrolled to the next page of my document and resumed writing. “Would you like something to read? Alex has some magazines in his office.”

“Alex? Oh, Nichols.” He shook his head. “Nah, I’m good.”

I glanced at him as he paced around the space. “You sure?”

“Eh.” He shrugged, leaning over my colleagues’ desks, one by one, examining the little knick-knacks here and there. “How long have you worked here?”

“Who’s counting?” I tried to focus on my work.

He must have gotten the message, because he didn’t follow up with another question. Instead, he picked up a charity flier from the table in the waiting area and sat on the couch, reading it.

An hour passed, and just as my laptop warned me that the battery was critically low, I realized that it was quarter-to-nine already. Rubbing my eyes, I decided that I’d done more than enough for the day and folded the laptop shut.

When I turned to look at the unhappy prisoner, I saw a pile of all the flyers next to him. It appeared as though he were reading the last one.

“Hey.” Taking pity on the rich man’s boredom, I stood up, contemplating an idea. “Do you get high?”

“What?” He lifted his head and looked at me from the other end of the room. The dark and shade rendered the structure of his face dramatically more appealing. Especially his cheekbones that curved down at the cheeks. He chuckled, “Can you even smoke in here?”

“Are we talking legally?” I pulled the bottom drawer of my desk and grabbed my emergency pack of pre-rolled joints. Lifting one up, I tilted my head. “This counts as force majeure.”

Tossing aside the flier, he uncrossed his legs and smiled. “How many times did you practice saying it so perfectly?”

“What?” I grabbed my lighter and lit up. “Force majeure?”

“Come here with that!” His laugh came out boyish as he leaped up, coming toward me.

“Parle français?” I took a drag, and as he covered the distance between us, handed him the joint.

“Juste un peu.” He gestured ‘little’ with his index and thumb while with the other hand, took the joint and placed it between his lips. He drew a long drag and for some reason, my gaze remained on his mouth before slowly creeping up to his eyes. He was watching me watch him. “This is good.”

It took some extra effort for me to break our gaze, so I spun on my heel, and as an escape, pulled out my small notepad from the purse and picked up a pen. I jotted down, The magnetism in his eyes startled me. I hadn’t experienced it since Carl Bollock in junior high.

“What are you writing? A record of our misdemeanor?” He extended his hand with the joint.

I took it and walked away, mumbling as I placed it between my lips. “Just something I’m working on.”

“Ah. Personal project?” He followed me as I walked toward my boss’ office. “And… now we’re breaking into someone’s office.”

“Relax.” I chortled, pushing myself up on the tips of my toes to reach Alexander’s magazines. “Alex has nothing to hide in here. It’s communal.”

“Everyone’s got something to hide.” I turned around, and he was standing awfully close so that my hands nearly bumped into his chest. When I scowled, he immediately shuffled back. “Reader's Digest? How old are these?”

I took a brief drag and gave him the joint, dying to get out of the dark room as quickly as possible. “Why don’t we find out?”

Like a puppy, he followed me out again. It was cute how he scrambled for any form of entertainment. To me, his boredom sounded like an alien emotion. Were all rich people this restless? I turned around and handed him one, then headed back to the couch in the waiting area.

As I sat down, I heard him audibly puff out the smoke. “So, what are you working on?” He sat down next to me, opening an issue without looking at it.

---