SPECIAL DELIVERY TO: @thomasxastor
LOCATIONS: Astor Group Offices ─ Los Angeles
DATE & TIME: April 19th around 3:30 pm
There’s one thing about owning a business: sleep is a rarity, especially the further one indulges in opportunities to become a household name. The lack of sleep is evident upon Cleo’s painted features as the blonde halts their steps to observe themselves in a building’s floor-to-ceiling windows in the glistening afternoon in Los Angeles. It’s a particular choice to study themselves, let alone groan aggressively at the slight smearing of mascara in the last twenty minutes, as people on the opposite side of the aperture can witness what she’s doing right now. Still, there’s no other location nearby because Cleo promised not to stray too far from their manufactures office and the plethora of topics they still have to endure to finalize when the sangria comes out ─ which is targeted for the end of May.
But the coincidence of this abrupt stop to check upon their appearance is the significance of it all: Astor Group. Instantly, a lightbulb goes off in their conscience, wondering if they’ll be able to make a rapid dash and unexpected visit on a friend ─ loosely and by association to Teresa. So why not try out their luck? After all, their mascara smears are no longer in existence as the bleached blonde always keeps a travel-sized Charlotte Tilbury concealer in their purse. Without any further hesitation and collected composure, Cleo waltzes down the path of the concrete sidewalk to the entrance to Astor Group Offices, ready to show up unannounced and fashionably, might they say.
After sweet-talking the receptionist with their choice of vintage Chanel, they managed to get permission to go up the lofty elevator, in which they were promptly greeted by a zip of assistants nearby. The fact they even got up here is most of the blonde’s plan. So, rapidly, she has to improvise, which luckily spots a slouched brunette hurrying past in the direction toward Thomas’s office, or so they suspect at this point. After little-to-no interrogation, slipping the brunette a $50 bill to get out of here, taking the documents in their possession as they waltz down the corridor to her friend’s office. A knuckle knocking against the hefty wooden door and a half-second of waiting out of common courtesy, she enters into space with a broad beam and mischievous, dancing brows. “Thomas Astor, you should be careful about the kind of security you have…” A tanned hand begins to wave the folders in their hand, only to set them down on the corner of his desk as lips purse. “.. because I convinced one of your assistants to hand this off to me like I was some higher-up, and she fell for it.”
The biggest contrast between Wall Street and Los Angeles is, perhaps, the humidity (of course, there are more, just not enough time to absorb and mention). In truth, Thomas has been crawling up the walls, flying back and forth between the two coasts, on top of having to get the location for the Astor Group running while their new headquarter on this side of the country is just on the paper. The constructors, the engineers, the architects, the projects, he had it all but what was missing was the tiny little detail of the land. How difficult can it be to find a place he could build on? And it could not be anything previously seen, as his grandfather and the board are constantly reminding him, to the point in, which he can, at this point, affirm, to hear their voices in the back of his head.
‘The Los Angeles’ headquarters must reflex and preserve the grandeur and the tradition on which this company was built upon while aiming to reach for the new influx of clients with a more diversified portfolio.'
Easy. Yet, he could not complain since he asked for this, right? The long hours put on now will pay off in the long run. New York doesn’t feel like home as it used to be, or if it ever did anywhere else. Truthfully, the closest Thomas has ever felt of being homesick to a place was from the island in Catalina and by doing all of this, the man could have a shot of having that feeling again. After all, part of his family was still there just like some of his friends (and a certain someone as he recently discovered). It felt right, but it did not mean it'd be any less easy.
Thomas passes on the green light message to the reception, to clear access, not that, whatever it was the two were talking probably wouldn’t have worked too, but he would not let that spoil the fun. In fact, the man will probably not even tell his friend and let her have this one. Since it was only a mere minutes before Cleo was coming to his office, he asks his secretary to hold his calls unless they are urgent and put any other mere of importance on a hold for at least a couple of hours. One thing, he was going to admit, Cleo Halliwell just gave him the perfect excuse to take a breath for today, and, maybe, for the rest of the week if he was lucky. Use this as a valid excuse to work from his phone in his recently rented apartment on the Island.
“Please, tell me you were nice, she is a temp and just got here.” He says with a fake gasp, pressing the bridge of his nose. “I can't afford to be left without an assistant.”
pixelskylines
germansingergirl
2087
ellievsbear
dailybridgerton
discoholicmusic
