Writer's Wednesday || Part 7 - The Girl

This is my 150th post!!!1!!!!!1!!1! That feels like a lot more than it is. 

I am introducing two new characters today, and am soooo excited about it! I would love to hear feedback about this new story thread. Tell me what you think and hope you enjoy!

- Part 7 -

The Girl

Kameron Keating, in 2037, was Vittebyre England's favorite party-boy.

Vittebyre City had almost caught up to London in size and by 2037 had its very own celebrity pool. Kameron Keating was, of course, at the very top of everyone's guest list. Popularity only grew after he inherited his late father's estate and business, Keating Signatures, which he had begun to turn to other lines of investment, such as nightclubs and ice cream production. Of course, his high cheek bones, flawless skin, muscled build, and sculpted nose could only help matters.

Most particularly in the last few months, the infamous Evain Lanty, (affectionately dubbed the "Glasgow Girl" after she poured a whole bowl of cocktail sauce on the Earl of Glasgow, when he insulted her chihuahua at a dinner party), had taken a liking to the young heir, and, were you to consult any of Vittebyre's gossip boards, were soon likely to announce that they that they were "seeing" one another.

Kameron, privately, hated taking over his father's business. He and his father had never particularly seen eye-to-eye and the late Paul Keating had never been satisfied by what his son chose to do with his life. Eventually, Kameron gave up trying to make him proud and instead just stayed out of his way. Now, with a multi-million dollar company resting on his shoulders, Kameron wondered if he should have paid more attention to how his father ran things. He would never be able to live up to what his father had expected of him.

The day was Tuesday. The weather was hot, but Kameron instructed his secretary to order coffee for him anyways. The secretary, handing the dark, three-sugar coffee to her employer, informed Kameron that he had a meeting with potential clients at the Vittebyre Conference Hall and that he would be late if he didn't hurry.

Kameron, rushing from his office, wound through Keating Signatures, down seven floors in the elevator, and out into the lobby. He called up a limo at the front desk, and pushed out the sparkling glass front doors.

The street on which Keating Signatures rested in previous years had been part of the main thread of roads, and kept relatively well landscaped and clean, but in recent years had begun to slip into less friendly shades. Kameron paced back and forth on the crisp sidewalk, the concrete so hot it was possible if he stopped moving his shoes might very well melt. He checked his watch. Where was the bloody limousine? 

Suddenly, he collided with a body. His coffee lid cracked and dropped off, the burning liquid splashing down Kameron's designer suit. The person who had crashed into him was a blond girl with big, square glasses. She was tall, dressed nicely but cheaply, her hair pulled back in a ponytail, a bag over her shoulder. She yelped as the coffee spilled over her, down into her bag.

"What are you doing?" yelled Kameron, wiping hopelessly at the coffee stains on his shirt. "I'll never get this out!"

The girl was muttering and crying to herself, grabbing at something in her bag and drawing it out. It was a small laptop, covered in dark streaks of coffee. "No!" she cried, her accent an odd sort of Irish. She was trying to dry the tech with her already soaked shirt. "No, no, no!"

"I have a meeting with very important clients!"

The girl shook her head, her eyes still on her computer, "Sorry. I'm sorry."

"Sorry doesn't cover it, woman!" growled Kameron, "This is a designer suit.. You've ruined it, completely ruined it!"

"Your suit?" she said, flabbergasted, as if she couldn't understand why he would care so much about a piece of clothing.

"It cost a fortune!"

It was the girl's turn to grow red and glare, "You want to talk about a fortune? This computer cost a fortune. Everything I had. It was my life! And now you've ruined it."

"Me?" Kameron could barely contain his anger. The limousine had pulled up now, but Kameron wasn't finished with this girl. "I did this, did I?"

"It was your coffee!"

"I wasn't the one who was too distracted to look where they were going!"

"I was thinking." She glared pointedly at him, "Unlike some people who have to pay others to do it for them!" The girl stuffed the computer back in her bag, ignoring Kameron's seething reply. She opened her mouth to snap back, when a boy in a hoodie bumped roughly into her, snatching her bag and dashing away.

"Stop him!" the girl called to Kameron as the thief ran in his direction. Stepping to the side, Kameron and let the boy past. The girl stared at him for a moment in disbelief, then shook herself out of it and raced after the boy. But he was already too far gone. He rounded the next corner. The girl lost him.

Kameron was opening his limousine door. The girl, ponytail swinging, marched back to him and slapped him in the face. "Have fun at your meeting," she hissed, then wiped away a quick tear, and stomped away.

Kameron stared after her for a long time. Then he shook himself, climbed inside his car, and directed the driver to take him home to change his suit. 

~The Scribbler in the Attic