Jesse had been making plans via her usual method. First was to get down the basic idea. In this case, going into business with Donovan. Second was to decide on an idea, which she had. Third was to acquire some seed money, which wasn’t too much of an issue. Fourth was research, which she had been doing. Presently, she was looking over a list of expenses for her idea – that of an escort service. She wasn’t too sure about her spreadsheet, but the research itself was sound – she’d even made sure to cite her sources.
There was the potentiality of renting an office, though in this day and age it wasn’t strictly necessary. Hiring employees and any staff, then of course retentions, such as a limousine service or lawyer. Getting the employees in and of themselves should be simple enough – there were several college and university campuses nearby, and she had jotted down the idea of some of Donovan’s imports switch over. The idea of using his girls had been broached when they initially discussed going into business. Perhaps, if they worked on having an especially large and/or good selection of exotics that could really reign in the customers.
She jotted that last idea down, then gathered together her spreadsheet, research, and loose ideas into and email to send off to Donovan, requesting he look it over when he had time. With that sent, she leaned back and closed her eyes. The apartment was quit – or would have been, if her lackey’s weren’t milling about doing nothing. It annoyed her that they had no ambition – they were content to not think too much for themselves, as long as they got their fix. It was a less than ideal situation for her, but what was a girl to do? They were fully bound and loyal – training up a new ghoul would take time and effort she wasn’t sure she wanted to put it.
She drummed her fingernails on her desk for a bit, head resting in the palm of her other hand while she let her thoughts wander, until it settled on a hard truth: she needed to get caught up. A lot had happened in the last six years, and she didn’t want to look like a country bumpkin if past events or current technology ever came up in conversation. Keeping up to date, she felt, was a step in trying to stay on top of those in higher positions of power who might know nothing of it themselves, and instead rely on lackeys.
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Aislinn had spent time the other day with Lucas, choosing furniture from stores, and setting up a delivery date for their moving in date. Between the two of them, they had also set up utilities and internet to be connected that day as well. They had bought some basic right away type needs, and were keeping them at the apartment Lucas was sharing with his mom for the time being.
She felt bad though, because she knew she had been monopolizing his time, wanting to keep him all to herself. So when she had talked to him the night before, she had told him she was going to stay in at the hotel and play games or lounge at the pool, and to go make plans with Michael. Whether he did or not, she wasn’t sure, but her guilt wouldn’t let her let him protest.
She didn’t really want to stay in though. Instead, she called up for a cab and decided to explore the city a little, taking little ventures into the touristy areas. When she took a break for lunch, she looked up to see if their were any events tailored to her hobbies – namely, any friendly game nights or competitions. As she was scrolling, she happened upon on that would be happening at one of the local colleges. With a grin, she finished her lunch, and snagged a ride to the campus, taking the time to find her way around before finally figuring out where she needed to sign up. After paying the relatively small entry fee, she wandered into the student union room where it was being held.
There were a decent number of people there, so definitely crowded, to an extent. A little while after arrival, the brackets for the competition were posted. There was no set kind of game, as they were going to test people on all different manner of things so that no one had a clear advantage, it seemed. She wasn’t worried. In fact, she really didn’t even care if she won this one – she just wanted to have fun and meet some new people.
With anticipation and a sense of anxiety, she settled in for a long night.
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“I don’t want to talk about it,”
The therapist sighed. “Chance, you’ve been saying that for quite some time now. Everyone else has told their stories, you’ve given some thoughts on some of them. You need to share if you want a breakthrough.”
He shook his head. The therapist closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Are you willing to tell us anything at all? Maybe even just an ‘are you from around here’?” she asked, a note of hope in her voice.
Chance closed his eyes, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly. I can’t afford to get kicked out of here he told himself. Maybe just tell a little at a time…yea, that’s it. “No. I’m originally from Seattle. More recently, Connecticut.”
“That’s quite the journey. How did you end up in New Orleans?”
“I turned eighteen, I wanted to get out of my Dad’s place. After that, a series of samaritans.”
“How long have you been here?” another group member asked.
“Three years, give or take a few months.”
“What was so bad about home?” a young woman asked.
“My Dad and I don’t get along.” he said, keeping it short.
“That’s great progress, Chance.” the therapist said. “Now, you’re here for addiction. Why don’t you tell us how that started.” she said, gently pressing. She was hoping she’d cracked his shell just enough to be able to make some real progress. Either way, she planned on leaving a report for Charles before her shift was over.
He rolled his eyes a little, since he felt the answer was obvious. “I was in pain. I took pills. They made me feel better.”
Another group member, this one a recovering alcoholic, spoke up. “How’d you end up in the chair?”
It was a question that had been asked before, but this time he decided to answer. “About seven years ago my Dad was going to force me into a military reform type school. We argued, and I took off out of there. My dumb ass wasn’t paying attention when I was running. Got pinned between two cars.”
There was some cringing from some of the other group members, and then a woman who was a young woman that had been struggling with opiates, similarly to him. “Couldn’t your mom have stopped him?”
“I don’t want to talk about her.” he said, clamming up again.
The therapist sensed, as well as heard, the shift in the therapy session, so she quickly checked the time, and dismissed the group before jotting down some notes and taking a moment to speak to Chance, thanking him for finally speaking. He waved dismissively, and cited being tired before rolling back to his room. She and some volunteers cleaned u p the meeting area, and she sat down to write her therapy report for Charles’s sake, making sure to give her thoughts on the beginnings of Chance’s breakthrough, before leaving for the day…