Thread: Four Letters (Ariamella and Dane Stalling)

Marisa's eyes followed the editor-in-chief as he stood, amused and thinking to herself that James Walker was in a class all on his own. Maybe for the reasons that he stated, sure, but also because he was much more than that. He not only shared common interest with the kind of men who read Alpha, but rather, he was their interest. He earned what they didn't and possessed what they didn't. He probably even ate what they didn't and spent money in ways they could only imagine. No, she thought, James Walker was part of an entirely different demographic. He was part of a group that didn't follow standards just because some magazine told him to do so he made the standards, set them, solidified them, and was a walking definition of them. Briefly she wondered how he had gotten to such a point being so young, but upon second thought decided it didn't matter. The point was that he had made it, and she wanted to know how . She saw herself in him, or maybe it was that she could one day see herself in his position powerful and one of the top players in the field. Marisa prided herself in her intelligence even if she didn't blatantly flaunt it and show it off. That much was obvious, especially after James had stroked her ego with his compliments. Like a peacock fanning its tail feathers, she sat up straight and gladly took the bottle of water from his grasp, the easy, wide smile on her face revealing a dimple on her left cheek. He was almost right in guessing what she wanted. While being labeled 'mvp' of the magazine and having the full support of her fellow staff members was certainly appealing, what she was looking for was a career-launching opportunity to get her foot in the door, so to speak, of the business world. What she craved was a shot to let her shine through the rest of the hopefuls. She wanted presence. And for the first time since she had last met with Catherine, she felt as is Alpha was handing that opportunity to her on a golden platter. Of course, she still had her doubts about it all being right for her. When Marisa had graduated from UCLA last spring, she'd expected her first internship to be with the LA Times or even a smaller newspaper where she could cultivate her reporting and production skills. But it had been the magazine publishers and media businesses who'd made the first offers. Not that it surprised her. It was Los Angeles, and what else could she expect? The city was filled with as many beautiful people as there were brilliant people, and the ones who were graced with both tended to be snatched up rather quickly by the employers who liked every aspect of their employees to be immaculate, from the work they did to the clothes they wore. It wasn't that working at places like Allette and Alpha were beneath her, but it wasn't typically the places she had imagined herself working at in the long run. But, she reminded herself, once she had connections and the ability to boast a few years at one of the top international magazines, only then could she be picky with the jobs she accepted. Her mind snapped itself out of idle thoughts as James leaned over his desk, and she caught his last words I'll know things are on track if I see Hank sweating bullets, trying to run things by me. Understand? Crystal clear, she replied smoothly, genuine with her words. No matter what the assignment was, a job was a job, and she fully intended to carry it out correctly. The door opened and a man stepped in Hank, James had called him who took her away and and through the office. She garnered looks as she walked through the maze of desks, and she knew it. A little peek out of the eye here, a discreet turn of the head there, and the slight nudge of one man's arm to another as he pointed her out. This was the kind of attention that she drew, not because she was an attractive female. Those were everywhere, and one could walk in the nearest office in downtown LA or walk through the red light district of Hollywood Boulevard and pick one up. What set Marisa apart the way she carried herself, the way she walked confidently behind Hank, and the way she kept a slight smirk on her face that was impossible to tell whether it was because she was about to smile or if it was because she had a permanent resting bitch face. And that tiny smile broke out into a full grin when Hank stopped her in a cozy corner of the office that offered a view of the city. It's perfect, she admitted, laughing slightly at his joke. I love natural light. And a Mac would be great, thanks. Marisa walked leisurely around the L-shaped desk, heels making quiet taps against the hard carpeted floors, and she placed her bags on the light-colored wood. About that byline... Could we hold out on it for now? I few ideas running around in my head about how I want to write this column, and if I'm going to make it stripped and emotionally impactive as Mr. Walker seems to want it... Well, to put it plainly, I'm toying around with the thought of it being anonymous, you know? Instead of coming from me , those words could be from the everyday woman. It makes it applicable to anyone and everyone. Entertainment and journalism, right? Hazel eyes flicked up to look at Hank's own pair, and Marisa flashed him the same smirk that she had with James. What do you think?