Graham
What a relief!
I despised hiding the truth from Brielle. I hated steering conversations away from it, even using tactics that would throw her off the scent because she would get so pissed off she'd forget she asked. I knew she'd never believe the accountant firm story. I don't know for sure what she guessed my job really is, but she must've guessed something close to the truth.
S.I.M.S. is very secretive, naturally. Most of the agents pose as police officers. That cover wouldn't work for me because, for one, Brielle would never believe that. In the position I have now, I won't be going into the field much; I'll be sitting at a desk and researching. All the physical training I've recently learned, I may never use. It's fine. Researching, I can do. That's my only guess why I was offered the job in the first place. I never sent them my resume. Perhaps my degree helps me, but I don't yet know how it does.
The following week, I 'graduate' from everything they put me through, and I'm directed to my new boss, a lead agent of a group. When I look at my form they hand me, I read the name Agent Springer. Hearing the surname, I smirk in a nostalgic way.
Nervously, I run my fingers through my hair as I make my way past cubicles on my way to a corner office on the thirty-seventh floor. Whatever happens in the next few minutes might decide my entire future with S.I.M.S.
Nice to meet you, Agent Springer. My name's Graham Taylor, and I'm pleased to be working for the Agency, I practice in my head.
A secretary sits at a little desk in front of the office door that reads 'C Springer.' I tell her who I am, and she directs me to the door behind her. My eyebrows come together. How ironic: 'C' Springer.
"Come in," I hear a woman's voice respond after I knock on the door.
My introduction dissolves into ashes in my throat when I see the woman sitting behind the desk. She smirks at my look of utter surprise. Agent C Springer... I think as I recall my moment of nostalgia as I'd heard the name. Springer was...IS Courtney's last name.
"Hello, Agent Taylor," she says in greeting.
There has to be some mistake. My mind whirls, wondering how it was that I'd forgotten that she'd been a criminal justice major. I'd not wanted her to go into law enforcement, but she'd been hellbent upon it, insisting that she wasn't going to let someone ever again get away with what had happened to her father.
"Courtney," I manage to get out, my mouth not able to voice all the thoughts going through my mind. How did this happen? She's my boss? There has to be some mistake. She's my BOSS?!
"Agent Springer, if you would, please." She rises up out of her chair and walks around her desk. As she does, memories assault me at a flying pace. I'd wanted to spend my life with this woman. I'd thought I loved her. I remember the day we met. She'd lost her necklace in the grass at the campus quad and was on her knees desperately looking for it. I'd come over to help, worried that she might not find whatever it was she was looking for before it started pouring down rain. We eventually found the necklace but not before we both got drenched.
The door behind me closes with a click.
I remember the day we broke up, both of us realizing that there was nothing there anymore, that we'd both driven the other one away so much that we killed any emotion between us, good or bad.
"How could-" you be my boss? "This-" makes no sense. "How did-" you rise to this level so quickly? "Is this how-" I got this job?
"As eloquent as ever, I see," she tells me as she reaches out to shake my hand. I automatically offer her mine, my thoughts still going faster than speech. She shakes my hand in a firm, business-like grip.
What are you doing here?
"I was going to ask you what you're doing here, but perhaps I should switch the pronoun. What am I doing here, Court-, uh, Agent Springer?" Calling her Agent Springer feels odd, wrong. She's Courtney for Pete's sake! This is a mistake. But I need this job!
"Sixteen, Graham? Really?" she asks with a snide look, and I notice she used my first name rather than call me Agent Taylor again.
"Excuse me?" I ask. Of course, I fear I know just what she means.
"You know exactly what I'm talking about. After all, it was the reason your dean fired you."
"That was blown out of proportion. The minute I found out her real age, I broke up with her." I feel my nostrils flare in anger. This again?!
Courtney waves her hand dismissively. "I've not brought you here to press charges, Graham. You asked me what you were doing here, and that was my way of starting to explain. Plus, I have to admit I was curious to see your reaction. You believed she was older, obviously."
"So what do you want with someone who can be so easily fooled?" I ask angrily.
She doesn't answer my question but continues with her explanation. "A restraining order was placed upon you from her legal guardian, Mortimer Goth. You obviously weren't letting her go even after you 'broke up with her.'"
What is this? Is she jealous? "Come to your point, please, 'Agent' Courtney," I request in a snarky voice.
"You're willing to bend the rules to accomplish your goals. You've acquired a powerful enemy and still managed to persevere. These are qualities we look for." She squares her shoulders and looks at me with a mix of pride and curiosity.
I let out a quick snort. "You look for people who bend the rules? That doesn't sound like the kind of agents S.I.M.S. would look for to me."
"Risk-takers, Agent Taylor. You successfully skated a very thin line." Her eyes boldly look me up and down.
I square my shoulders in a cocky way. I still know her better than she thinks I do. She's playing me up because she has an ulterior motive. "It seems very unlikely that the agency would want people who skate those thin lines."
"Why is that? You did what it took to get what you wanted, and you did it without directly breaking any laws."
What's the motive? What sort of agency is this? Wait. 'Get what you wanted'? "You know we're together now," I state suspiciously.
Her eyebrows raise. "Of course we do. I would assume you'd figure out we know you brought her with you to Eden. What's she like?" With her last question, she finally breaks the business-like persona and sounds more natural. Her eyes drop to the floor.
"She's everything I've ever wanted," I tell her bluntly, and her green eyes pop back up to me.
She rolls those eyes and says, "Oh, please, Graham. I was just asking. For the record, I'm not looking to rekindle anything." She turns around and takes a few steps towards a small sofa she has placed in the corner. Gesturing to it, she says, "Have a seat, and I'll tell you why you're here."
I expect her to return to her desk, but she sits down next to me instead.
"As it turns out, I came across what you were up to by accident," she tells me.
I sit and look at her suspiciously. I don't think I like how the agency is one that looks for people that bend the rules. "How?" I ask. If every sim ever created joined hands, they would circle the globe six billion times. Of all the sims in the world to be my boss, why does it have to be her?
"You and I have a common enemy."
I take my turn raising my eyebrows. "I don't have any enemies."
"Oh, you don't?" she questions knowingly. "The Goths went beyond a restraining order. In most cases, they hid it well, but I was most interested to find that they sponsored an exhibit at a museum that, until the day of your interview, was eager to hire you. They've tried to destroy your relationship with this girl and your reputation at every turn."
I pick my jaw up from where it had fallen on the floor with the news of the museum exhibit. "They sponsored an exhibit?!"
"And it would seem that this is the first you've heard of it," she states as she watches me stare at the far wall, glaring.
"They would claim coincidence," I think aloud. I would've been perfect for that job.
"Of course," she agrees. "And this was one of many instances I found where the Goths interfered with your job search. In fact, they went as far as to preemptively contact possible employers before you even discovered the job."
"Son of a b*tch," I growl and rub my chin as I think about what I'd like to do to Alexander Goth should I ever see him again. Of course, he'd sue me for assault. He'd love to do that.
"Who?" Courtney eagerly asks. "Mortimer?"
"I thought with all that you know that you'd realize it wasn't Mortimer, at least as far as holding the reins of this vendetta," I say, glancing sideways at her.
"You mean to tell me his little son Alexander was behind most of what was being done to you," she states in a questioning way.
"Alex is no longer the 'little' son. My girlfriend told him no when he asked her to marry him." I watch her reaction, finding the oddity in talking about my girlfriend to a woman that had been my girlfriend for almost six years.
She purses her lips, obviously not happy that she didn't already have this tidbit of information. "And that explains his motive. He blames you."
"Well, I don't know if it's that he blames me, more that he's mad that Brielle is with me instead of him. I'm guessing he wanted to make me a pauper in an attempt to lower her opinion of me." Which drove me here, to a job where YOU'RE my boss.
"Graham, I need your help," she says quietly and suddenly.
Confused, I look at her again and ask, "What can I do?"
"Mortimer Goth was the one to bring down my father," she admits.
My mind whirls again. Courtney's father was financially ruined by Mr. Goth. I don't know how. After her father was bankrupt, he committed suicide. The necklace she'd so desperately sought that day we met was the last Christmas present he'd given her. In order to pay their debts, her family sold everything that wasn't nailed down...except the necklace.
Her father's suicide was what prompted her to get a degree in criminal justice. Now, she has her dream job and-
"Wait a minute," I say suddenly. "You mean to tell me that you've been using government resources to track Mortimer Goth in an effort to find something to pin on him?!"
She laughs sadistically. "Oh, I have plenty to pin on him. I'm only looking for a bigger charge."
"So where do I fit into all this?" I ask, my nostrils flaring.
"Initially, you'll be doing what you were hired to do: research," she replies.
"I'm bait," I say, suddenly understanding. She's going to use me to draw out the Goths somehow. Disgusted, I get up to leave.
"Graham, stop," she begs. However, her voice turns bossy as she snaps, "I haven't given you leave to exit my office."
So...she's going to pull rank on me, I think, furious. If I didn't need this job so badly, I would quit here and now. I've never been a quitter, but I don't agree with my real reason for being here.
"You don't even know where you're going once you exit the office anyway," she further reasons.
I turn around slowly and level her with a belligerent stare. "Then show me to my desk, Agent Springer."
Click here to go to chapter 31
I despised hiding the truth from Brielle. I hated steering conversations away from it, even using tactics that would throw her off the scent because she would get so pissed off she'd forget she asked. I knew she'd never believe the accountant firm story. I don't know for sure what she guessed my job really is, but she must've guessed something close to the truth.
S.I.M.S. is very secretive, naturally. Most of the agents pose as police officers. That cover wouldn't work for me because, for one, Brielle would never believe that. In the position I have now, I won't be going into the field much; I'll be sitting at a desk and researching. All the physical training I've recently learned, I may never use. It's fine. Researching, I can do. That's my only guess why I was offered the job in the first place. I never sent them my resume. Perhaps my degree helps me, but I don't yet know how it does.
The following week, I 'graduate' from everything they put me through, and I'm directed to my new boss, a lead agent of a group. When I look at my form they hand me, I read the name Agent Springer. Hearing the surname, I smirk in a nostalgic way.
Nervously, I run my fingers through my hair as I make my way past cubicles on my way to a corner office on the thirty-seventh floor. Whatever happens in the next few minutes might decide my entire future with S.I.M.S.
Nice to meet you, Agent Springer. My name's Graham Taylor, and I'm pleased to be working for the Agency, I practice in my head.
A secretary sits at a little desk in front of the office door that reads 'C Springer.' I tell her who I am, and she directs me to the door behind her. My eyebrows come together. How ironic: 'C' Springer.
"Come in," I hear a woman's voice respond after I knock on the door.
"Hello, Agent Taylor," she says in greeting.
There has to be some mistake. My mind whirls, wondering how it was that I'd forgotten that she'd been a criminal justice major. I'd not wanted her to go into law enforcement, but she'd been hellbent upon it, insisting that she wasn't going to let someone ever again get away with what had happened to her father.
"Courtney," I manage to get out, my mouth not able to voice all the thoughts going through my mind. How did this happen? She's my boss? There has to be some mistake. She's my BOSS?!
"Agent Springer, if you would, please." She rises up out of her chair and walks around her desk. As she does, memories assault me at a flying pace. I'd wanted to spend my life with this woman. I'd thought I loved her. I remember the day we met. She'd lost her necklace in the grass at the campus quad and was on her knees desperately looking for it. I'd come over to help, worried that she might not find whatever it was she was looking for before it started pouring down rain. We eventually found the necklace but not before we both got drenched.
The door behind me closes with a click.
I remember the day we broke up, both of us realizing that there was nothing there anymore, that we'd both driven the other one away so much that we killed any emotion between us, good or bad.
"As eloquent as ever, I see," she tells me as she reaches out to shake my hand. I automatically offer her mine, my thoughts still going faster than speech. She shakes my hand in a firm, business-like grip.
What are you doing here?
"Excuse me?" I ask. Of course, I fear I know just what she means.
"You know exactly what I'm talking about. After all, it was the reason your dean fired you."
"That was blown out of proportion. The minute I found out her real age, I broke up with her." I feel my nostrils flare in anger. This again?!
Courtney waves her hand dismissively. "I've not brought you here to press charges, Graham. You asked me what you were doing here, and that was my way of starting to explain. Plus, I have to admit I was curious to see your reaction. You believed she was older, obviously."
"So what do you want with someone who can be so easily fooled?" I ask angrily.
She doesn't answer my question but continues with her explanation. "A restraining order was placed upon you from her legal guardian, Mortimer Goth. You obviously weren't letting her go even after you 'broke up with her.'"
What is this? Is she jealous? "Come to your point, please, 'Agent' Courtney," I request in a snarky voice.
"You're willing to bend the rules to accomplish your goals. You've acquired a powerful enemy and still managed to persevere. These are qualities we look for." She squares her shoulders and looks at me with a mix of pride and curiosity.
"Risk-takers, Agent Taylor. You successfully skated a very thin line." Her eyes boldly look me up and down.
I square my shoulders in a cocky way. I still know her better than she thinks I do. She's playing me up because she has an ulterior motive. "It seems very unlikely that the agency would want people who skate those thin lines."
"Why is that? You did what it took to get what you wanted, and you did it without directly breaking any laws."
What's the motive? What sort of agency is this? Wait. 'Get what you wanted'? "You know we're together now," I state suspiciously.
Her eyebrows raise. "Of course we do. I would assume you'd figure out we know you brought her with you to Eden. What's she like?" With her last question, she finally breaks the business-like persona and sounds more natural. Her eyes drop to the floor.
"She's everything I've ever wanted," I tell her bluntly, and her green eyes pop back up to me.
She rolls those eyes and says, "Oh, please, Graham. I was just asking. For the record, I'm not looking to rekindle anything." She turns around and takes a few steps towards a small sofa she has placed in the corner. Gesturing to it, she says, "Have a seat, and I'll tell you why you're here."
I expect her to return to her desk, but she sits down next to me instead.
I sit and look at her suspiciously. I don't think I like how the agency is one that looks for people that bend the rules. "How?" I ask. If every sim ever created joined hands, they would circle the globe six billion times. Of all the sims in the world to be my boss, why does it have to be her?
"You and I have a common enemy."
I take my turn raising my eyebrows. "I don't have any enemies."
"Oh, you don't?" she questions knowingly. "The Goths went beyond a restraining order. In most cases, they hid it well, but I was most interested to find that they sponsored an exhibit at a museum that, until the day of your interview, was eager to hire you. They've tried to destroy your relationship with this girl and your reputation at every turn."
I pick my jaw up from where it had fallen on the floor with the news of the museum exhibit. "They sponsored an exhibit?!"
"And it would seem that this is the first you've heard of it," she states as she watches me stare at the far wall, glaring.
"They would claim coincidence," I think aloud. I would've been perfect for that job.
"Of course," she agrees. "And this was one of many instances I found where the Goths interfered with your job search. In fact, they went as far as to preemptively contact possible employers before you even discovered the job."
"Son of a b*tch," I growl and rub my chin as I think about what I'd like to do to Alexander Goth should I ever see him again. Of course, he'd sue me for assault. He'd love to do that.
"Who?" Courtney eagerly asks. "Mortimer?"
"You mean to tell me his little son Alexander was behind most of what was being done to you," she states in a questioning way.
"Alex is no longer the 'little' son. My girlfriend told him no when he asked her to marry him." I watch her reaction, finding the oddity in talking about my girlfriend to a woman that had been my girlfriend for almost six years.
She purses her lips, obviously not happy that she didn't already have this tidbit of information. "And that explains his motive. He blames you."
"Well, I don't know if it's that he blames me, more that he's mad that Brielle is with me instead of him. I'm guessing he wanted to make me a pauper in an attempt to lower her opinion of me." Which drove me here, to a job where YOU'RE my boss.
Confused, I look at her again and ask, "What can I do?"
"Mortimer Goth was the one to bring down my father," she admits.
My mind whirls again. Courtney's father was financially ruined by Mr. Goth. I don't know how. After her father was bankrupt, he committed suicide. The necklace she'd so desperately sought that day we met was the last Christmas present he'd given her. In order to pay their debts, her family sold everything that wasn't nailed down...except the necklace.
Her father's suicide was what prompted her to get a degree in criminal justice. Now, she has her dream job and-
"Wait a minute," I say suddenly. "You mean to tell me that you've been using government resources to track Mortimer Goth in an effort to find something to pin on him?!"
She laughs sadistically. "Oh, I have plenty to pin on him. I'm only looking for a bigger charge."
"So where do I fit into all this?" I ask, my nostrils flaring.
"Initially, you'll be doing what you were hired to do: research," she replies.
"I'm bait," I say, suddenly understanding. She's going to use me to draw out the Goths somehow. Disgusted, I get up to leave.
So...she's going to pull rank on me, I think, furious. If I didn't need this job so badly, I would quit here and now. I've never been a quitter, but I don't agree with my real reason for being here.
"You don't even know where you're going once you exit the office anyway," she further reasons.
Click here to go to chapter 31
Wonder how he's going to explain this to Bri. He has to at least tell her who his boss is otherwise it'll look like he was hiding it from her. That will open up a whole other can of worms.
ReplyDeleteTHAT will not be easy, especially considering her irrational jealous streak. Right now, he has no idea how he can explain it.
Delete