I went, or almost ran, through the hallway of our magazine's heart as I was still holding the issue in my hand. I was passing countless of closed but also open offices, filled with weird looks and judging people.

Turn left.

I tried to avoid all of the people who blocked my way, or, at least tried to, and tried to find my way to Jenna without hurting anybody.

Turn right.

I couldn't be responsible for this, could I?

Was my drunk alter ego really capable of writing something such as this?

Damn, had Jenna and I really changed anything of the article?

I remembered that I had, well, pretty much finished it before the both of us girls had gone out last Saturday – but, God, would I just change anything of the article? Just like that?

Straight ahead.

Perhaps, just perhaps, drunk Shay would do so.

And I just didn't know about my alter ego drunken Shay's true intentions.

A successful businessman, as we know him, or as we do not know him, constantly has his hands in America's business game, but also in women's panties.

Turn right.

Jenna, where were you!?

Harry Samuels in the very middle of the Glory of The Magican People John & Liam Marbles – surrounded by a net worth of billions of dollars and countless women.

"Congratulations on your article!" I heard a colleague, whom I had, well, maybe once, talked to throughout my whole time at Walgreen's, say, making me turn around and give her a small smile.

Straight ahead, again.

You'll find her. You'll find Jenna.

This Englishman is one of the next legends regarding the real estate business America's. Samuels Inc. – a name that we will see more often on the giant skyscrapers in the United States. Inspired by the lost angels, this enthusiastic businessman lets each of his costumers open their mouths and stretch out their tongue only for him, making their money flow into his hands like a river.

"I have to talk to you." I almost stumbled into Jenna's office, whose door was open, and was stopped by the dark-skinned woman in front of me.

"Laylah?"

"You've missed countless calls!" She murmured, running back and forth in Jenna's office, blocking my view.

"Wait, what?"

"I really like your article, by the way!" Laylah lifted her hands happily in the air while she was looking for something in Jenna's office.

I tried to take some steps forwards, but then got stopped by Laylah pushing me away. "Nah, ah, ah!"

She pressed her hands against my chest, making me almost stumble backwards, and drop the magazine.

"Where's Jenna?"

"No idea!" Laylah muttered and, with that, let me wait in the middle of the hallway right in front of Jenna's office.

When I turned my head to the left, I saw various of my colleagues walking directed to one way, others to the other, as some of them were talking to each other, looking at me or even smiling brightly at me.

I gave back a nervous smile and began to mentally freak out soon before I, suddenly, heard the door in front of me close loudly.

"Laylah?"

She held up a folder, and then went left, where I had just watched my colleagues. When she signalised to follow her, I tried to keep up with her fast steps and to not stumble over my own feet with these too high heels.

"Laylah? What is that?"

She didn't answer my question considering the black folder she was holding, and just continued going ahead, making me follow her instantly. "Laylah?"

I held my magazine firmly in my hand, making this situation only more complicated than it was already.

Laylah then suddenly turned right.

When I followed her, I suddenly saw...

"Shit, Laylah!" I cursed for the first time in the middle of the hallway, making some colleagues of ours turn their heads right to my direction.

"I'll tell you later," Laylah muttered, probably referring to the folder, but then looked at me and fell silent all of a sudden. She was trying to read my face, "Are you alright?"

My eyes glanced over the walls of the hallway, which, as much as I could remember at this very moment of shock, had been decorated with portrait artworks of some journalists just yesterday.

In front of me, though, I saw the cover of the newest issue of Walgreen, having a proud Miss Smith staring right onto my soul.

I saw Laylah pushing her left elbow against mine as she kept holding this mysterious black folder in her hand.

"Sex, Money and Power – The Personal Interview with Harry Samuels!" I read out in my mind just like this morning in front of Hud News.

"Why... Why is that on the wall?" I hysterically asked before I stepped even closer to the framed cover, as if I could destroy it with my eyes.

"The current figures are there!" Laylah turned her head along with me, looking at our colleague whose head was peeking from his office door across the hallway. He was holding various sheets of paper in his hand, but made sure that the one he was talking about was the very first one which I couldn't really read from this distance.

"Oh, yeah!" Laylah suddenly remembered and then pulled me away from the spot I was standing on.

Along with her, I crossed across the hallway, heading towards the office of our oh so great economist.

Laylah then turned her head to me, "We've been able to get the current figures of this morning, and never had ever one of our issues been so successful!"

She held a firm grip on me, making sure I was following her before she continued. "I'm really proud of you! But I really gotta take you to my office now,"

I, astonishingly, looked at her as we got closer to our colleague's office.

"I would like to congratulate Shay!" I heard him say as his head was still just peeking out his door.

"Sorry, I need my baby now!" Laylah said, linking arms with me as she made sure the folder didn't drop out of her hand.

I gave my colleague an apologising look and kept on following Laylah, slowly realising that we were heading towards her office. I could never get used to this huge building, let alone how much of it belonged to Walgreen only.

Not as much as Chicagomics belonged of it, but kind of as much.

Suddenly, my article came back into my mind, and I thought about whether Christina liked my article or not? Did she read it? Of course she did, or she had at least received the news by now.

The news about the article which I didn't know how it was created!

Where was Jenna!?

I was ready to punch her pretty face, or, well, just ask her for an explanation, as I knew that she, yeah, she was one to drink quite a lot, but she never completely lost her mind, and she could remember each and every detail of events if she just wanted to.

She would have never let my article turn out like that. I didn't know whether I should, actually, be happy about my magazine being a box-office hit, or Miss Smith's magazine as I should say, now supported by me – or if I should just tear off my head off of my body, because I didn't know whether to be ashamed of my words or not.

"Watch where you walk!" Laylah made me leave my sea of a mind and, finally, dragged me into her office, which she closed abruptly.

"What is this folder?" I, suddenly, asked, not ready to answer any questions concerning my article.

"And, also, forget what I just said," I continued. "Where's Miss Smith? I thought she'd be here by today?"

"Shay! Calm down, what's going on?" Laylah put the folder on her desk and then went to the pretty breathtakingly large window of her office, pulling up the louvres.

I walked around her desk and dropped into her quite luxurious executive chair while I was still holding the magazine tightly.

I chuckled as soon as I noticed that Laylah was struggling raising the louvres.

"Clumsy?"

"Just tired." She said, hiding her face as she continued on turning to me with her back. I knew that she, still, was hiding a smile that I had already lost.

While I stared on her desk, I suddenly noticed a number on a post-it which was stuck to the edge of the glass table, supported by a tape. The glass plate was glowing right in front of me as it reflected a golden colour of the sun

"So that there'll be some life in here again," Laylah said with a cheerful tone of her voice, and then sat down right across from me – on the chair where most of the interviewed would usually sit, or as Miss Smith liked to call them, our customers.

"Now, let's see!" Laylah had a loud voice, leaning forward and tore away the magazine that I was hugging tightly onto my chest until this very moment.

"What?" She asked me as I looked at her weirdly. "I didn't even actually hold your article in my own hands!"

"I thought you have read it?"

"Yes, well, the media read it for me!" She smiled abnormally much. "Everybody, really, everybody is talking about you, Shay! Miss Smith is so proud of you!"

"Miss Smith?"

"Oh, yeah, I know why I brought you here!"

Laylah threw the magazine on the desk, right on top of the folder, and then playfully slapped her forehead as she shook her head. "God, I'm so forgetful! Miss Smith's left a message for you on the voicemail!"

She leaned further forward and was just about to click on a button of the telephone, but I stopped her by placing my hand on top of hers.

"She left a message for me on the voicemail?"

"Yeah, your telephone didn't work." Laylah explained, trying to press the button, but I pushed her hand away again,

"How's that?"

"I don't know, all of your calls were redirected to me after the issue got discovered."

And the problem got discovered when?

Until yesterday, I hadn't received any important calls, and if I could just point that out, I wasn't an important contact regarding any important matters, anyways. I didn't know who I could expect calls from - apart from no other but my boss herself.

Laylah leaned forward again, now even more, so that she could tear off the phone if she had to, and clicked on the button.

"Congratulations, Shay." I heard a rough, masculine voice, making me shiver immediately.

I looked at Laylah's mouth, and she was whispering something that was apparently very important, but my head was now turned off and I just focused on the voice coming out of the speaker.

"I read your article today, and I must say that you are a very interesting woman with daring words. I am looking forward to tomorrow." Harry.

Tomorrow?

The phone peeped once, then twice, and I was almost wiggling around on Laylah's seat.

"What I wanted to sa-," Laylah began but then was interrupted again be the speaker,

"How did I deserve this!?" This time, I recognised no other but Miss Smith's voice which sounded incredibly relaxed but also annoyed. "I read your article, and I didn't know you could be one to write that!"

I blushed and then looked to Laylah who was only sitting on her chair with her arms being folded, grinning at me.

"I'm really glad to have you here, you really got a hidden talent! I'm looking forward to meeting you in New York tomorrow. I've booked a first class flight for you tomorrow morning, and Charles, your now personal driver, will be waiting for you at the airport, picking up your luggage and then taking you to your hotel."

Suddenly, there followed a short pause of breaths, and I didn't know if I was still breathing, but when I looked at Laylah, her smile grew even bigger and both her eyebrows were raised.

"Unfortunately," We heard Miss Smith continue. "I'll stay at a different hotel. Charles," She was referring to my driver, "will give you a little time to get ready until we'll have lunch at Corton. In the evening we'll have another meeting with different people from a New York business magazine along with other businessmen, including Harry Samuels."

I was gone, mentally and physically.

The telephone was peeping once again and then followed by a longer peep, making the flow of my thoughts going on and off.

"Woah!" I looked at Laylah, and I wanted to either jump over the glass desk and hug her, and then run out of the office, or just walk straight towards the window to my right.

Instead, I just sat up and laid my hands almost flat on Laylah's glass table.

"I did it," I whispered, but instead of making Laylah hearing it, I focused on making this thought only to be heard for myself. "I, actually, did it."

"Yeah, yeah, you're a Somebody now..." Laylah muttered, but I knew that she was being playful and happy for me.

Was I happy?

Or, on the other hand, did I even deserve all of this?

A first class flight, an incredible lunch, and, especially, a dinner where... Harry would be involved.

Once again, was I happy?

Would I have to answer questions regarding my article?

How was I supposed to explain Miss Smith?

Or to Harry?

What did he say? I am a very interesting woman,

"With daring words!" Laylah interrupted my thoughts and looked at me with a huge smile. "That's why I wanted to take you to my office!"

I got to the final point of not knowing anymore how to react properly.

My mind was full, and, at the same time, blank. It wandered from Harry to the article to Miss Smith to Jenna, and then back to Laylah.

"I need to talk to Jenna." I abruptly said and then pressed my hands firmly on the glass table, pushing my body upwards, "Now."

Laylah frowned, wrinkles appeared on her forehead, as she suddenly leaned forward and pulled the folder closer to her side of the table as if there was gold in it. I was wondering what she was hiding.

"Isn't this Jenna's folder?" I asked as I frowned this time, copying Laylah's earlier actions.

Of course, my thoughts were in a flow filled with New York, and beyond of it all, about Harry. I was about to see him again. But, I could now only think of Jenna, because she was, more or less, my best of friends.

She was the one who had helped me, also, more or less. I wanted her to be the first one to congratulate me on my article as I envied her because of her long experience at Walgreen, plus I needed her appreciating me for the way "I work" as it'd make me happier than anything else.

On the other hand, as I had stated before, I didn't know how exactly the article got written.

I had been a drunk, mad woman. And it must have been incredibly embarrassing, deathly embarrassing if I could say so.

Laylah now took away the folder from the desk and then pressed it tightly against her chest as if it there was something expensive hiding in it.

"It's my folder," She explained. "Jenna just borrowed it."

I wanted to say something, but then got interrupted by the telephone ringing. I was still standing rooted to the floor, and I didn't know how to react.

Laylah eyed me, no longer as happy as before, even almost judging. She leaned forward as she was still holding the folder tightly onto her chest, almost as tight as when I had been holding the magazine this morning, and then grabbed the telephone.

She held it to her ear, tightly, and had a sudden smile spread on her face, so wide, that her eyes smiled along with her mouth. She now looked like as if nothing had happened.

Liar.

"Hello! Yes, of course."

There was a crease between my eyebrows, and I watched Laylah's facial expressions throughout the whole conversation.

"Yes. No. Really?"

I inhaled and then exhaled loudly, and debated deep in my mind whether I should let myself fall into the seat again or if I should just leave.

"No, she isn't here." I continued to focus on Laylah's words, who was just avoiding my gaze. With every word she said, she was blinking many times, looking at her pink nails holding what she had said to be her folder.

"Yes, I'll make sure to tell her." She nodded, followed by her own "Mhm," and then put the telephone back into its base station.

Laylah still had her fake smile plastered across her face.

"Who was that on the other line?"

"Nobody. You'll still come with me today, right?"

My brain turned back on, and I felt like I could think again. Laylah was trying to change the subject, and to distract me from my asked question.

"To this party?" I said the words before I actually wanted to let them come out of my mouth.

"Yeah! I have invited a few other colleagues too!"

"Other colleagues?"

"Yes, Jenna won't be joining us today. Didn't she tell you?"

No, no, she didn't. On the other hand, I had no idea how to reach her, but as I knew I should, well, of course, trust the deputy boss, I should believe anything Laylah said. When she said she didn't know where Laylah was, I couldn't do anything but believe her – having my inner being not want to, though.

Laylah knew exactly where Jenna was.

"How'd you reach her?" I questioned, and folded my arms as I waited for an explanation.

"She sent me an E-Mail." Laylah told me in a slightly bored voice.

So, I had to have trouble reaching Jenna by any means, but Laylah had her convos with Jenna? Jenna didn't like her, at all! So why would Jenna te-... Actually, my thoughts were all over the place, and if one wanted to report themselves sick, they had to report it to Laylah in case Miss Smith wasn't there.

But would Jenna just report herself sick? Beyond of it all, without telling me anything about it?

I mean, of course, we didn't know each other for long, but we ate lunch almost every day until now, we gossiped together, God, I had lived at hers, I had got drunk with this woman and couldn't remember anything!

Of course, I expected her to make me the No 1 on her list of people of whom she'd tell first whether she was about to report herself sick or not. But, also, I hadn't checked my E-Mails yet, and perhaps, just perhaps, there was one waiting for me.

I, really, wanted to demand Laylah to show me the "E-Mail" she was talking about, but I knew that this would be nothing else than just a bad idea of mine.

I dropped my arms aside of my body and decided to play this game along with Laylah, started by nobody but herself.

If one could play this game, so could two.

And I was one of them.

"I'm looking forward to tonight." I said in a confident voice, trying to give her the best smile I could offer.

"Great!" She began to squeal, and put the folder back on the desk that was separating the both of us, "I thought you were going to cancel, you seemed so nervous today!" Well, half of America, if not the whole of America, is talking about no one else but Shayleen Taylor and her oh so great article. No, I am not nervous.

"I'd never cancel you," I lied, smiling at her.

She got up from her seat, having an honest smile on her face, of which I knew that it was fake, because if she could go from pure sadness to an euphoric happiness just because of a call, I thought that she either took medicine for a "happy and clear" mind on a regular basis, often practiced yoga, or was just simply a good actress that intended to lie to people.

She put her weight on her hands as she was almost bending over the desk, pressing the folder firmly against the glass table as she watched my following reactions.

"Well," She continued. "I'll pick you up tonight! Or, no, you know what?"

I looked at her, frightened of what she was going to say next.

As I looked at the glass desk again, I noticed that the sun had moved, now reflecting a different angle of the table.

"I'll just wait for you after work. You'll spot me, I drive a red 1975 Cadillac Castilian!"