Tuesday, 20 October 2015

Mood | Thrill

Year: 2020

'Derek, $50 million dollars is on the line here. You were supposed to fix that javascript problem two fucking hours ago. I want it done yesterday. You got it?'
Maya sighed. Voicemail. The sonofabitch didn't even have the courtesy to pick up his phone. Knowing what was at stake, she couldn't help but be pissed. This investment was either going to take them to the next level or leave them benched next to the startups who never made it. Her heart was pounding in her chest with excitement. She got a kick from raising money... and raising hell.  Burning up conference rooms with killer negotiations, a force to be reckoned with in a world full of tech and men.  
Alek observed the young girl ranting into a piece of technology on her wrist in the lounge of the Beverly Wilshire hotel. 25 years old with the mouth of an obnoxious New Yorker. Cladded in a leather skirt with a rather lengthy slit down the middle and a long sleeved turtle neck sweater. The new work attire of the nouveau riche. He sipped slowly on a mug of hot black tea and tried to get back to reading the Monday paper on his smartphone. But his mind couldn't help but wonder back to the girl with the dark eyes and even darker hair. At 37 years old, he swore he was losing the plot. Ambitious 20 somethings were everywhere in LA. Why hadn't he taken notice before? A red-hot desire to draw up a conversation slapped him hard on the chest. 

'What joy does money and materialism bring you?  Don't you want to live out your 20s in coastal islands with little money but all the freedom in the world? Don't you want to fall in love?'

'It's not about the money and you know it. It's about the thrill. The adrenaline rush. The ego boost. The kill.' 

All of which he knew too well. He slowly chuckled at memories of his old self. Best leave that conversation alone. She would soon find out that even the thrill had an expiration date. 

Just as he was about to look back down at his paper, the girl stood up and walked right past him. Smiling as if to suggest she knew what he was thinking. Perhaps people really could read minds. He sure hoped she read his.


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