Chapter 47: Chapter 47

Thompson walks to his private office as he likes it to be called, stumbling on his track. I raise my head, and laugh inwardly.

"Hope you aren't hurt?" The facetiousness sounds lucidly in my tone.

"Like you didn't pray for me to."

"Sorry."

"Like you care."

"Next time, I pray you hit your head so, I would laugh aloud. Be nice for once." I call after him, lowering my voice not to cause discomfort to the two male customers.

"Heard you."

I pick the roller, and start to use it to mix the thicken flour, momentarily glancing at the customers to see their expression if it's satisfied. So far, it is.

I have been working for the past four hours, attending to customers, but it isn't much stressful to me, being that dad owns a bakery shop at Forks too — my childhood town. His is even more glamourous than Thompson's because tons of people are patronizing him everyday.

"Thanks for the tips, ma'am." I say to the dark-haired woman, who's wearing blue sweater, and oversized, black trouser, standing opposite from me, outside the booth.

"You deserve it, Claire. I finished reading your book yesterday." She beams smiles at me. "It's very interesting. Isn't there any publishing company that can help you publish it? Self-publishing it makes it hideous to a lot of people. If not that you gave me a copy of it, I wouldn't have known."

"Thanks for the compliment. I have sent my CV along with a manuscript of it to some publishing companies. Hopefully, they would answer me." I say, returning the same widened smile at her. Jeez, my lips hurt. I change my smile to a crook smile.

"Okay. I will see you later. Send my regards to Thompson."

"Yeah."

Her shoe clicks as she walks out, leaving me alone in the taciturn room. Thompson has gone to the store to go and get some supplies, and unfortunately has taken his radio with him.

I dip my hands into the popcorn's glassware and take two handful of popcorn out. I pour it into a bowl, and pour myself a glass of chocolate tea. Sitting in the booth, I start to eat. My brain flashes back to the morning about the email. I bring out my phone and log into my account, suddenly, excited to know what the email is about. I couldn't wait it out till I get home.

Signing in, I stroll down amongst some other emails to one that caught my eyes, making me drop the bowl onto the booth's mosaic counter, having the paint of eclectic bakery foods. I gape, unable to control my happiness. I couldn't believe it is happening so, I use my hands to brush my eyes. Opening it again, I see the same message before me. My CV has been approved by the Louis publishing company, section of the Triplets.

Subject: A New Beginning As An Approved Selectee Of The Triplets Company.

From: Olivia Buchanan

To: Claire Swan

8 hours ago. View details

Dear Claire,

The Triplets name has been associated as the world's trusted company in Paris for more than a century year old. For more confidence from you to our company, please review our videos from our YouTube channel, see click here. Learn more about how many selectees have accolades our name.

My name is Olivia Buchanan, and I am your consultant for working in our company in Paris. Feel free to reply to this email, or call me, toll free, at 862-781-2250 with any questions about how we can help you in fully understanding us, and how our protocol works which will involve you, signing a contract of safety and assurance with us. It will not be disclosed as it will be saved in our sample confidential folders.

For you to self-publish The Constitute Series at age 21, you must have passion for writing more interesting books. To schedule an appointment with me please click here. At Triplets, we are committed to forming a bond with our selectees.

Reach out to me anytime, and I'll answer your questions. I'm looking forward to reading your books made by us, one day, and to help you in following the right path in the writing world.

Sincerely,

Olivia Buchanan

Olivbuchanan@Triplets.com

862-781-2250

Reply in three business days. Visit this page to schedule an appointment for questions.

Copyrights@2021, all rights reserved.

The moment I finish reading the email, I screech out, whopping into the thin air in utter joy that I am being considered at least. I quickly pick up the phone again, minimized the screen, and go to the phone call icon. Immediately seeing Steph's contact, I call her right away.

On the fourth ring, she picks, making me get impatient already.

"Steph! Guess what?" I yell into the phone, not minding the facts that I can hear the sounds of people, talking around in the background. Perhaps they have started shooting the movie.

"What, Claire? I don't have much time. My scene will soon start." She complains. I hear her talk to someone about the colour of lips gloss she wants to use.

"I've been accepted. I mean, the Triplets company, they are the one who sent me the email message this morning. I've read it, Steph. There's a possibility I can be one of the selectees to be their writer." I am ecstatic.

"Congratulations. I'm happy for you, Claire." Steph's tone has a clear hint of unhappiness in it. She's not happy, though she might be for me.

"What's wrong?"

"I can not talk much for now. I will see you at home. I'm genuinely happy for you." She hangs the call — something she hardly do at me.

I look at the screen and turn it off, brooding over the reason why Steph isn't happy at things but then, I recall.

Steph and I have been friends from college, but we weren't that close, until when I move to Victoria, Canada from Forks, Washington about four months ago, due to some family issues between dad and I. We happen to become roommates, and that's how our intimate friendship starts.

Steph invited me to the Triplets company when we started to submit our CVs to different companies. Her's to the Filming industries, while mine is to Publishing companies.

I have never thought of being considered by the Triplets, not by thinking of myself too low for their status, but because I just don't think they would accept me despite my faraway location.

I think I know what is wrong with Steph, perhaps she's feeling bitter of herself of not being chosen yet, but things happen for a reason. I will need to talk to her tonight.

The Triplets are one of the best, oldest, and largest company in Paris consisting of three smaller companies — Publishing company, Filming company, and Aesthetic company. The co-founders partially owns Paris by their influence. The Triplets is a company under the adjoint of three companies — Louis', Sebastian's, and Aurora's. They are rumoured through the press to be childhood friends, but no one really knows much about them, and they never disclose.

By those said words, I mean no one knows them. Most people believe the co-founders to be dead since the company is more than a hundred year old, and I tend to follow their route as well. Some others believe them to be swindlers, or rather fake, but I don't fully agree to that even though I have no crush on them. The reason why I'm on either sides is because there are this three people, said to be the children — on another account, the acting presidents of the company till the return of the real owners — of the late co-founders. They also go by the given name of the companies. Maybe one day, the press will reveal the hidden truth behind them.

For me, all I care about is my dream to become reality, and through working with Triplets, even after the contract time has finished, there is an hundred percent guarantee, I will find jobs from other publishing company once they realize I have once worked for Triplets. That's the advantages they pass along, and a lot of writers will be dying to want to join them.

The Louis company is publishing company, dealing with typing job, printing, website creations, game makers, and all other things that deals with using software or browsing apps.

The Sebastian company is an aesthetic company, dealing with beauty, artistic works, portraits designs, decors, and all other beautifying jobs.

Aurora company is an entertainment company, owned the female amongst the three beautiful creatures, as informed to me by Steph. Her company deals with filming, music creations, studio and stages decoration, exhibitions of zoos, museums, fountains, water display works and all other eyes-catching, entertaining things.

I turn the screen of my phone on, seeing it is seven in the dusk already. It's my time to go home. Steph should be home in an hour later, I assume. Just in time I hop down from the footstool to inform Thompson of my readiness to go home, he opens his private room's door, walking out to my direction in a limp gait. I walk towards him too. He came back about two hours ago, stayed in his office all the time, until now — just because we didn't have good sales today. I tried to advise him to calm, but since he wouldn't listen he's hurt him, tripping over his feet in a fast, back and forth pace, and twist his ankle.

"Hey. Are you alright?"

"Yeah."

"You need to visit the clinic."

"It is nothing serious." He argues. It is nothing serious, yet he's resting on one leg. He has issues with following things that would help him.

He likes to listen to music, but hates, listening to advice. He is cool in appearance, but hot-tempered in behaviour. He wishes to be a model, but also stumble in his gait — just like what is happening to him. He mustn't know that I know the last character as one of his, since he's kept it hidden. I have my ways to rooting him out. No wonder he has no worker, expect me. I wonder how he will manage when the Triplets fully accepts me to work with them.

"If you say so. I will like to leave now, please." I add in my gentle tone.

"Yeah. It's seven-thirteen already. Go home. Thanks, Claire." He turns, walking back to his office limply, while I'm rendered speechless, and momentarily shocked. Did he just say thanks to you? Even my subconscious is shocked.

"I didn't know you can be so nice. You sound cute, and more handsome saying that word."

"You better savour it because I will never say those to you again." He says, not glancing at me. He is back to his stern personality.

"Night."

"Don't take my apron home." He yells, as he opens the door to the office. I mutter a curse under my breath that he'd insult me through that.

"You are impossible, Thompson."

Out of Thomp's Pastry shop, I walk down to the street. The cool air of the night accompanies me till I get to the street where roars of different cars pass by. I walk by the walkway, gesturing for taxis with a wave of my hand, and when I see one, I enter quickly into the backseat.

"Where to madam?" The taxi driver ask me in a deep, manly tone.

"Um, here." I pass him my phone, turning it on for him to see the map to my place — an habit of mine to drivers.

"Okay." He return my phone back to me, and presses the address into his car's GPS. When the location shows correctly on the screen, he start the car.

I watch the street, lively with humans roaming its space. Lights from tall buildings illuminate the whole premises, as the streetlights. Victoria is indeed a nice place, even in a night with no moon nor any stars, its still beautiful to the sight.

Steph's unhappiness invades my thoughts. I don't know how she's going to react when she comes home. And I have a feeling at the depth of me that I'm the cause if she's not happy when she arrives. Only if I had known not to tell her but still, she'd find out one way or the other, so I might as well stop battling myself.

In my thoughts, I remember the Email where my consultant, Olivia Buchanan had told me to book an appointment with her, or call her contact. I quickly open the Email app, go to the specific message, and click on her contact number.

Instantly on the first ring, the call gets pick up, while I'm still mulling over the thoughtless act of mine. I didn't even think of what to say before calling her and here I am, not knowing where to begin.

"Hello, this is Olivia Buchanan speaking — a consultant, and staff from the Triplets company. How may I help you? Please identify yourself." A woman says, her voice tiny, bit high-pitched, and well coordinate in a professional manner.

I sink into my chair, small beads of sweats forming on my forehead. Better get a grip of yourself, Claire. You don't want to fuck-up in any way. Pull yourself together and speak. My subconscious tells me in her rather rough, angry tone. It's easier said than done. I use my hand to cover the speaker, and clear my throat. I grip the phone more tightly, and speak almost in a whisper.

"My name is Claire." The need to put in more information hits me like a gust of wind. "I received a message from your company — Triplets about eleven hours ago. The message says that I have been considered by you, and that's where I saw your number. It says that you are to be my consultant so, I called." I explain as much as I can.

See! You handled it perfectly. I knew I can count on you. My subconscious finishes before I can snap at her, and hurriedly run back to her hole like a child.

"Wait a second." I think I hear the sound of keyboard clicking or something, I couldn't be so sure. "Claire Swan, right?"

"Yes. It is."

"Okay. What would you like for me to clarify on? I mean, from what the Email had contained." She state. Her accent sounds fluently American.

"Um, I just wanted to know what the contract will involve. How things are going to be done so, I can know what to expect before the main signing file." I let out a breath, making sure it's low.

"I understand. By this, I will send a sample of agreement to your email so, you can understand things we are complying, and expecting from you. And also, before you meet any employee at all."

"When should I be expecting the email?" I feel all bravery from talking to her. Her voice already gives her away to being kind, and free to talk with.

"Being that we are answering many selectees too, the message might take a while, but we will try as much as possible to answer quickly." She explains.

"Thank you. I'll be waiting for the message then."

"Good day, or night, Claire. Thanks for submitting your work at Triplets, we are happy to have you talking with us." She says, and hang up the call.

I'm left speechless. My mouth opens as though I've lost control of closing it. The biggest company with lots of writers are saying thanks to me for submitting my work. I have always thought that they will be arrogant to their selectee, but now my imaginations has been turned down.

By the time, I spin away from the thoughts, the driver tilts his head to the side, telling me.

"We are here, madam."

I look outside, seeing the apartment in-line with the silent street of the estate.

"Thanks. Here is your fee." I pass him the money and alight. From my peripheral vision, I see him erasing my address from the GPS, placing another to the screen.

Night's air blows on me again as I walk toward the house, feeling emotions from two sides — happiness of being considered, and sadness of Steph not being considered