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@jeremiah-billings
"Man, it ain’t that hard. I’m explaining how to make an omelette here, not a five course meal."
“I just want breakfast. You’re overcomplicating a simple meal with technicism. I just want to eat and you’re here decorating a plate.”
“The shoes, Jer. Those shoes are Versace. From Italy. Ah! We need to go into that store and get them!”
“You don’t really need to.” Shoes. Only to his seventeen-year-old sister would shoes be a matter of life and death. Jeremiah truly didn’t understand it. Sure, he liked his nice pair of shoes, and yet he didn’t have to own a room full of them. “They look just like the ones you’re wearing right now, Emery.” Who was he kidding? Even as he protested, he could already feel his own body turning towards the store.
“I was just wondering if any of your reporters—maybe Grayson, I think— had mentioned anything to you in particular that was very interesting to you about any of our family or really any other family but not specifically any one person—unless he did mention one of us— not that they would mention any of us but I um… Have any of your reporters mentioned anything interesting to you lately?”
Jeremiah had just come back to the office after taking a few sick days off, rare all on its own, but necessary nonetheless. Though he hadn’t left work altogether while away, keeping tab of everything through e-mails and calls, he was still trying to fall back to routine. Ashton’s rambling, hence, was not only confusing but also suspicious to him. “My reporters take me plenty of interesting things, Ashton. Santos included. You want to know Elias’ latest lay? Or Alexandra and Emery’s new fight over some designer boots?” Of course, that kind of information was not going on print, nor did he considered it particularly interesting, personally. “But if you happen to know something I don’t, why don’t you take a chair and tell me once and for all? Come on, brother, just sit down for a minute.”
“I’m not sure I follow...”
Logan slowly repeated, “Yes. Around.” He gave Jeremiah a puzzled look as he sensed a tint of condescension in his cousin’s tone. He rested his elbow on the polished table, making sure he didn’t rest it on a stack of papers he couldn’t care less about. “It is a moment to reminisce about tomorrow, isn’t it?” Logan added, “I’ll make a toast about it tonight.” He didn’t hesitate to lean back, waiting for a reaction. His back was pressed against the back of the chair and his lips formed a devious smile. “Hey, I have an idea,” he began, “Why don’t we go out for a drink? It’ll… loosen you up, make you feel more alert and awake.” A drink was a drink— or a truce. Of course he was pretty sure his cousin wouldn’t accept his offer. After all, Logan was ‘supposedly’ destroying his family’s reputation.
“As long as you don’t toast to it so much tonight that you don’t remember what it is you were supposed to be reminiscing tomorrow, of course.” Jeremiah was too weak to put face, straightening his back was painful enough already. He couldn’t even frown or call his cousin out, but a sigh escaped him before he pressed his lips together, almost as if regretting having to say no. Maybe he did, after all, he wasn’t sure. “I need a Nyquil shot, Logan. Regardless of how much my father insists on how a good glass of scotch is the cure to all devils, it has not been proven true yet. But how about a raincheck? I’ll pick the tab.”
The scratches on my back from after the Ball have finally healed. You know what they say — out with the old, in with the new.
Pity no one scrubbed some salt in those before they healed. You know, to get rid of impurities and bad evils.
Emery sighed, once Jeremiah kissed her hand and pulled away. She knew he would react like that, knew he would not want her to make a fuss over him. Emery sighed, sitting down next to him and leaning her head on his shoulder. “I worry about you. I don’t want you working so much. You know I could always call Daddy and make a meeting to see him, tell him he’s working you way too hard. I just love you, Jer. I don’t want you to be overworking yourself.” Emery smiled up at him, genuinely. “The Calloways are insufferable, but there are a few I don’t particularly mind. Maybe we shouldn’t judge them…” Her voice trailed off as she then nodded, smiling warmly at his question. “Of course she did. Bianca always looks beautiful.” Emery looked away for a moment, hesistating purposely, before turning back to her older brother. “Jer…whenever you and Bee have kids…Nevermind.” She said, purposely wanting her older brother to ask, as she got up from his grasp, continuing to clean up his office.
“He’s not working me too hard.” In truth, Jeremiah had always been the one to put too much on his plate, not wanting to be seen in the company as the son of the boss, the one who had life served on a silver platter. He wanted to earn his place, his position, and the respect of his coworkers and employees. “Don’t worry about me, Emery. I’m a grown up. I can take care of myself. Now why would you say I’m judging them, plural?” As much as he wasn’t exactly fond of the family, Jeremiah was never one to pass judgement without basis. He was capable of not letting himself be blinded by rivalry, though it wasn’t always a negative thing. “You looked beautiful too. I’m surrounded by beautiful women.” It was meant as a compliment, and one he meant wholeheartedly, though her next words made him frown. Emery was the second person to bring up the idea of him having children and, if he was being honest, the thought terrified him. Not because he didn’t want children, or because he didn’t want to have children with his wife, but because he didn’t want his children to fall victim to the life they led. He had seen it in his siblings, in himself, how their name weighed on them to the point of distorting them entirely. “Why are you cleaning? I thought I was the one being ill, not you.”
What the hell is with this snow
And none of them are as good as Tahiti, the Caymans, the Bahamas, Greece, or Bali
Still a mystery to me why you haven't hit the limit in one of your credit cards to escape all this snow and take a Mediterranean vacation.
Coming to Jeremiah’s office was practically a weekly routine for Diego — the university only being a couple of blocks away from the building. It was a nice place to unwind without having to go home to an empty apartment, with Romy being at work and everything. “I’m going to be a doctor, remember? I’ll be able to fix myself up.” He smiled, leaning back slightly in one of the office chairs adjacent to Jeremiah. “It’d probably be stupid of me to ask why you don’t just take a sick day, right?”
"Going to be meaning you're not one yet." Jeremiah pushed the papers he had already revised away from him and his red marker on top of the ones he was yet to look at. Diego's presence was almost equivalent to a time-out, mostly because it let him relax some of the tension he carried everywhere. Today, however, though he greeted him with a smile, his voice was nowhere near as jovial. "It is a stupid question but I'll look past it. I don't like having other people do my job for me. For many reasons, to be honest, but mostly because if something goes off wrong, it doesn't matter if I was here or not, it's still my responsibility and I have to deal with it. But I'm leaving after I finish these." He motioned at the stack of papers before him. Even as stubborn as he was, Jeremiah had to admit he couldn't exactly perform at his own standards in his condition. "Probably take more than a day, at it. How's life, doc? Haven't heard from you since the Calloway ball."
While not usually one to overuse the word “sorry” - on the contrary, actually, she rarely apologized for something twice, especially for something as insignificant as this - Bianca found herself doing just that, still a little shaken by letting the reigns slip from her grasp, even if it was for a mere second. Murmuring a soft ‘yes’, she grabbed her coffee from the counter and followed him to the table, taking this time to regain her composure. There was something off about her husband, she noticed. Though he hid it well - if it wasn’t for walking behind him, she might’ve missed it - his usual stride was weaker as if merely using his legs was a struggle. Giving his shoulder a light squeeze in passing, she took a seat across from him, careful to avoid his papers when setting down her cup. “Oh?” She arched a brow at the man, genuinely surprised by his statement. Jeremiah Billings, taking a break? Voluntarily? This was a first one. “You won’t see me complaining.” A gentle smile curved her lips as she brought her cup to them, taking a careful sip from the steaming liquid. “Yes. I’m positive.” It wasn’t a complete lie. While her lids were still heavy and heart burdened by worry, she was feeling more and more like herself - or the person she was supposed to be - with every passing second. But there was a tiny part to her that almost wished he’d call her out on her bullshit, that he’d back her up in a corner so far that she’d be forced to tell. “I’m more worried about you. I mean, I thought you were pale, but sick? Can I do anything?” She reached out her hand, brushing her fingertips gently across his knuckles. “And you don’t have to sleep in the guest room, Jer.. I can take it. In sickness and health, remember? Unless, of course, you want the whole bed to yourself?”
It was too high a risk, in his opinion, to take a break. Jeremiah was sure he'd be on the phone most of the day regardless of wether or not he actually stepped foot in his office, but even if this was the plan, the medicine probably had a different idea. His broken body was begging for a bed and some rest. "That's because I haven't been home for a continuous twenty-four hours yet." It was meant to be a joke, as if all married couples found it hard to be in each other's presence for so long before they started complaining, but Jeremiah realized how true his words were and couldn't help but frown somewhat at it. They were yet to celebrate their first year anniversary and they had not spent that long together yet without his work, or family, getting in the way. "Were you heading somewhere? You seemed to be in a hurry." Placing both hands on top of the stack of papers, Jeremiah looked at his wife, searching for some sort of answer though he did not know the question. Still, he was pleased to see how whichever worry was burdening her prior was starting to vanish from her eyes, regardless of seeing how they also hid something from him. Everyone did. "I'm taking something for the pain, I'm sure it'll wear off soon. Emery persuaded me to call the family doctor. I'll wait to see what he says before I answer your question." Of course he wouldn't trade sharing his bed with the brunette for the guest room and perhaps he could've voiced that as he thought it, but always practical, he didn't. Yet, his hand, turned warm under her touch as he offered her a smile, tired but eyes glimmering genuinely. He only looked away as the cold metal of the wedding band of her finger touched his skin, calling his attention, taking her hand on his as his eyes stared at the stone it held. "It's not fair to you, that I haven't been there." Sometimes he even thought he didn't deserve her patience and her care, but there she was, sitting right in front of him, still patiently waiting for a husband. A coffee shop was perhaps the wrong place to bring it up, but apparently his condition was tampering the filter between his thoughts and speech.
"You really don’t keep any — what is it called — Advil in your office?” he shook his head, almost wanting to speak loudly for the fun of it but ultimately deciding against it, knowing that Jeremiah would most likely not find it funny. Stepping outside his office momentarily, Diego motioned an intern over. “Two coffees, please. Black. Thank you,” he smiled, moving back inside. “Why not get one of those cute interns to make a CVS run?”
Letting his pen fall atop the stack of papers before him, Jeremiah sat back in his executive chair as Diego made his way into his office, watching him with mild amusement as he ordered his interns around. Diego's presence in his office was no longer a surprise but more like a routine visit, almost expected. He had to be grateful that the man knew him well enough to ask for black coffee, seeing as the one on his desk was no good anymore and he wasn't a fan of milk in his drink. "I already had some of those gel caps. It was useless. If I were a little less selfish, I'd ask you to leave. Last thing I need is having your fiancée blaming me for getting you sick."
Theodore was taking a mid-morning break to stretch his legs and get himself some coffee when he spotted the man he hated most. Well… one of them. The Calloway sure had a lot of enemies. It made him smile to see the other man clearly drowning in work, complaining of a headache but looking much worse than that. "You look like death warmed over. Much better than I’ve ever seen you before."
The distinctive voice of Theodore Calloway proved to be more sour than the stale coffee he just took a drink of, hissing quietly at both as he straightened his back careful not to let the obvious animosity between them show. Always the vertical man, Jeremiah knew how to be polite, though he was yet to master hypocrisy and so he didn't over decorate his demeanor when the other person was not of his particular liking. He found the sleazy man untrustworthy and just the fact that they had to put face on occasion made his own morals recoil, if not at least make his head throb twice as bad as it was already. "If this is how you pretend to win votes, I suggest you find a new communication manager. Your lines are lacking in charm, Calloway."
What the hell is with this snow
Wrong country for that.
Hawaii is part of this country, Puerto Rico, the Virgin Islands. Even California and Florida aren't too bad, if by country you're restricting it to the continental US.
Did Jeremiah always sound so… tired? Logan couldn’t recall. He shrugged as he took a seat— he didn’t want to hover over his cousin. “Yeah, I don’t really hang out here,” Logan said, “Vi— I’m buying a cup of coffee for a friend.” He didn’t want his family to know about his ‘relationship’ with Victoria Calloway because he was aware of how they felt about Victoria’s family. They were rivals— enemies. When Jeremiah started to cough, Logan raised his eyebrows and a look of concern crossed his features before it quickly disappeared. Nonchalant, Logan responded, “I’ve been around.” He couldn’t talk about weed to his uptight cousin— Jeremiah would probably have a heart attack. “You’re a sight for sore eyes,” he continued, “I’m not kidding. You look like you haven’t slept for years.”
It was easy for Jeremiah to catch how his cousin opted to change his words mid-way, obviously trying to keep something from him. If Jeremiah wasn't already used to it, not only from Logan but most people, he would've pressed on him to finish the name he did not mention properly. He eventually learned what it was they kept from him, one way or another, and most of the time without even seeking for the answers himself. Patience was a virtue, and it worked perfectly for him. "Around." He echoed, the gesture almost patronizing though, at that moment, Jeremiah barely meant anything by it. "I haven't slept for years. Not really. But thank you for the compliment. I shall treasure this moment dearly, cousin."
"Shit, Jer, I’m so sorry, I didn’t see you there.. I— Are you okay?” Bianca’s words came out rushed, her usual cool demeanor broken by the sudden surprise. She’d been on edge the whole day, having slept no more than a couple of hours the previous night, her mind constantly burdened by thoughts of her mother and the state in which she’d left her behind. Yeah.. it had just been one of those nights, not that she could admit to it and thankfully, he hadn’t noticed her disappearing from the bed in the middle of the night. Not this time, or the ones before. “Ah, it’s okay, I’m sure it was nothing, I’ll just get back to them later.” She shook her head, defeated, giving up on both the bag and retrieving her cell from the depths of it. The only call she would’ve given a damn about was her mother’s and that she couldn’t have answered anyway, not with Jeremiah there. “Yeah-yeah, everything’s okay, I was just — ” Sleep deprived. “A little distracted, that’s all.” A slow smile curved up the corners of her lips as she reached for his hand, brushing her thumb absently over the reddened skin where she’d spilled her coffee. “I really am sorry. Is everthing alright with you, though? You look a little pale.”
"I'm fine, don't worry. It's nothing." Scrunching the napkin he retrieved to wipe the coffee off, red lines fading where the steaming drops had fallen, the man was otherwise unharmed. Jeremiah wasn't one to ask many questions, though highly observant, so he didn't push the woman on answering the call she had been so adamant about missing half a minute ago. His lids fell heavy on his eyes but hers looked tired for different reasons. Still he didn't pry, even when he should, even if, in many ways, it was his right to do so, to ensure her wellbeing regardless of what the woman decided to share with him or not. "Bianca, it's alright. I'm alright. Join me?" He was quick to dismiss her second attempt at an apology because he was sure the end result had greatly in part been his own fault as he walked to his table. Though he'd usually wait to walk either beside or behind his wife, Jeremiah felt as though if he didn't sit down soon, his knees would give in and he'd fall, like his body was suddenly too heavy for him to support on his own two feet. "I'm almost done with these—" He motioned at the papers he had sprawled across half of the table he was occupying. "And then I think I'm taking a break from work for a couple of days." Not exactly by his own choice but practically forced by his own secretary, and several other people. "I'll probably take over the guest room tonight, though. I don't want to get you sick... are you sure you're alright?" Though he wasn't intending to ask again, the question escaped him.
Emery took another bit out of her salad and swallowed hard. It was hard to lie like this to her big brother, it truly was. Playing him and playing the game of deceit was one thing, but to lie to his face was harder than she thought. She looked away and sighed, shrugging. “Well, of course. The Calloways are dull, lifeless, boring. I mean, most are. I’ve met a few that have…” She trailed off, her cheeks turning a tad red as she continued not to make eye contact. “…Impressed me?” She told him and took a sip of her soda. “Come on, Jer, though. You should eat. You look pale. Do you want me to call Daddy’s doctor? You know he can prescribe you anything to help.” Emery said, smiling warmly. “I’m sure Bianca enjoyed herself. She’s a lovely lady, I’m sure others enjoyed being around her.” She smiled and got up, collecting some garbage around her brother’s desk and throwing it up, tidying up around his huge office. She wanted to de-stress him, help in any way. She really, honestly and truly, care and love Jeremiah. He was the only one she could depend on, truly. “You don’t have a fever, do you?” Emery asked, making a bee line and touching his forehead to feel for it.
Jeremiah fished into the carry out bag his sister had brought him, still with little appetite but finding the distraction welcoming enough so that he decided it was a good idea to perhaps eat something, if only a bite or two. He didn't really pay too much attention to Emery, though he could very well picture her in his mind's eye as she spoke. He had his sister's mannerisms memorized in details. The pause, however, to anyone with basic knowledge of communication theories, was more telling than words alone. It managed to call on his attention, arching an eyebrow suspiciously as the girl finished her sentence. "I could understand intriguing, Emery, but impressive is stretching it too far." Pushing his plate away, the eldest Billings simply shook his heads, trying to dismiss his sister's worries. "I care more about her enjoying being around others than how the others feel around her. She looked beautiful, didn't she?" The memory of his wife at the ball came rushing back to him and he asked rhetorically before his mind could even register his words. "No- Emery, I'm fine, don't—" Groaning, hating to be tended for as he was used to being the one looking after people, not the other way around. Taking the hand that was now feeling his forehead, Jeremiah placed a kiss of the knuckles before offering the girl a reassuring smile. "It's nothing, sister. It'll pass."
"What now?" The question left Bianca’s lips in a hushed mutter as her purse vibrated against her side, distracting her momentarily from paying the barista. Perfect.. Refusing the change with a brush of her hand, she made a beeline for the vacant table beside the counter, planting her peppermint mocha on top of it to dive into her still vibrating bag. Whoever it was, they sure were adamant about reaching her. Rumbling through her belongings, she was caught off guard as a hand reached for her still untouched coffee. "No, wait, that’s mine." She exclaimed in a haste without looking up, slamming her palm down on the lid of her cup and spilling a couple of droplets of the hot liquid on the stranger’s hand.
"Bian—" Jeremiah broke into a hiss as the hot liquid hit his skin, jerking his hand back and immediately regretting sneaking up on his wife. He had seen her walk into the café from where he sat, paperwork still covering his table by the corner window, waiting until she was done to call her over. A sharp pain stroke his back as he stood up, as if he had done it too quickly, but he was starting to get used to it that day. Whenever he sat still for a few minutes, any movement, no matter how little, took a toll on him. "I'm not drinking it, I was just going to ask you to join me there." He wasn't a fan of chocolate and mint together but, even if he were, he wasn't going to just drink from her cup and risk getting her sick with whatever it was he had— even if he was hesitant to admit he was, in fact, sick at all. "I just didn't want to interrupt your call. Are you alright?" You seem jumpy.
