So, I have completely changed the synopsis to my story. It’s not 100% different but I’ve added a few exciting things to it. This is the first couple of changes to the second chapter. It is my first time writing an entire chapter in a guys POV so please no judging! Thank You.
Ivan Gregory’s P.O.V.
It’s the most wonderful time of the year; There’ll be much mistletoe-ing, and hearts will be glowing when loved ones are near; It’s the most wonderful time of the—
No. I can’t even allow the song to finish. I slammed the door to the carolers closed, ending the song before they could think that I was enjoying it. I whistled as I walked away, tightening my tie around my neck and flipping down my collar, feeling no remorse. Christmas songs have to be some of the most deplorable, unscientific nonsense a person can sing. How would a man that weighs nearly three hundred pounds get into a house through a chimney, eat cookies and put out presents without making any noise? What about the law? What about breaking and entering? Not to mention how impossible it would be for him to get back out again after everything was said and done. It’s unrealistic and stupid. This holiday, in my personal opinion, is probably one of the most distressing, well-thought of holidays I’ve ever experienced. Why? Because of marketing. Because of the gullible couples that have tricked themselves into believing that they are in love with their partner and therefore end up spending a lot of time and money on something the other person has a 55 % chance of actually liking. And the children? Don’t even get me started on the children. But despite what I know to be true, it’s good for business and I’ve got proof. Between November 1st and December 26th in 2011 consumers spent $35.3 billion online, over 15% more in the same time period of 2010. Which in laymen terms means people are only spending more every year. And as a man who gets a hefty percentage of that, I say that that is good news.
To put it simply, Santa Claus doesn’t exist, but business? Business does. Me? I do. And I am business so unless I want to implode I must pretend to enjoy this season for another—I looked down at my watch—36 days, 10 hours, and 38 minutes; give or take. I sighed as I clipped on my pure gold cufflinks and straightened out the fabric of my black-label white button down. Speaking of time, I better get going, I thought as I headed toward the door. I wrapped my scarf around my neck and draped my coat across my arm as I put my hat on my head and left my flat, the door closing and locking behind me with three consecutive beeps.
Today is going to be a great day.
I lied, I thought, the light of my phone blared into my face as I double checked to make sure I was at the right place. Bob and Apples’ Bar and Grill? Really? Bob and Apples? I shook my head and sighed, a white puff of vapor appearing in my face like a billow of smoke. I wonder if my assistant got it wrong. Why would, Kenji Takashi, a billionaire mall owner from Japan be interested in coming to a place like this? I re-checked the text-message, scrolling all the way down to read the post script.
Yes, I am positive that this is the location. – Lori
She can be so sarcastic sometimes. She should work on that. I rolled my eyes and dropped my phone into my coat pocket, looking over my shoulder as I stepped into the bar. As soon as I walked in I wanted to walk back out. It was game night and the place was packed. I looked around at all of the normal people that were suddenly surrounding me and couldn’t help but wonder ‘Why?’. Why when I know a perfectly good 5-star restaurant that wasn’t full of people who smelt of cigarettes and food that looks like somebody threw it up on the plate, would somebody want to come here? I looked to my right at the coat hanger next to me and shook my head in disgust at how many coats were actually hanging there.
I closed my eyes briefly, tightening my jaw as a woman passed by me smelling of apple martinis and disparity. Why? There were Christmas decorations and light-beer posters hanging on the wall. And one thing I hate just as much, if not more, than Christmas songs is Christmas decorations. I looked behind the bar where there were a few, rather large round tables and at one of them sat my client and his assistant. I took off my hat revealing my short, $250 cut ashy brown hair and made my way to the back table. As I passed by the coat rack I nearly bumped into a small woman who out of my peripheral vision I’d seen standing there like a statue since I came in. I touched her shoulder softly excusing myself as I continued my beeline toward Mr. Kenji Takashi’s table. I vaguely heard her say something along the lines of ‘Oh no… it’s okay.’ But it was faint and barely audible over the sound of the jazz and soccer match going on in the front. For some reason unbeknownst by me, I looked over my shoulder back at her, I didn’t know what I was expecting but she was gone, clearly swallowed up by the crowd that had taken her place. I shrugged it off as I quickly approached the back of the bar slightly disappointed to find that it was no quieter here than in the front but I did my best to hide it well as I smiled politely and bowed at my waist in front of Takashi’s table.
“Kobanwa.” I said and stood.
“Kobanwa.” He smiled, the crow’s feet around his eyes tightening so that I could barely see the brown flick of his eyes. He held out his hand, inviting me to sit opposite of him.
“And Merry Christmas. Please, sit.” He continued, that smile that prohibited me from seeing much more than the skin around his cheeks still etched on his face. Kenji Takashi was an older man, had to be in his late fifties. He had a thick crop of dark black hair that lightened to a light grey toward the sides. And just like me, he was a man of business. As the owner and founder of a multi-billion dollar franchise in Japan, he takes the Christmas season very seriously. Based on the place he chose to meet at I say slightly more seriously than I had thought.
With much care I pulled out the wooden chair that had been forced against the table, glad I had decided to wear my gloves and disgusted at the same time at what might be attaching themselves to it right then. I gulped and looked down at the seat trying my hardest not to show my disgust at the red pleather cushioning. But I knew it would be rude to refuse so I sat, smiling politely at the man who was unknowingly torturing me. Just as I looked up, there was a fleeting glance between him and his assistant, his smile dropping and a knowing look appearing in his eyes. But it was gone within seconds, forcing me to believe that it was maybe I trick of poor lighting. Besides, this merger was worth far more than my superstition.
I cleared my throat, “So, let’s talk business.”
“Yes,” Kenji Takashi looked away, grabbing a napkin and careful placing it on his lap. He held up his hand to signal a waiter, “But first, a drink.”
You’ve got to be kidding me.
Toward the middle of our meeting it seemed as though Takashi had completely seized listening to me. It seemed that the soccer game had entertained him far more than I had and It was as though nothing I said was getting through to him. Now, clearly this is a first for me. Usually at business meetings when I speak what I say is gold so why is it, when I talk to him all he seems to hear is plastic? I tried not to be deterred by this fact as I continued to talk about the statistics of my establishments, how much we made last year both at our in-person locations and online, our costumer reviews and our return rates. But nothing seemed to impress him. I sighed and stopped talking just as the noise level suddenly dropped. For a moment the noise level didn’t register and I sat with my back toward it all as I looked over the papers I held in front of me for whatever Takashi was finding unappealing. Wait, I furrowed my eyebrows, Did somebody say something about a fire?, I thought as I turned around and watched as a young woman with nearly the whole bar surrounding her, stared nervously down at a flaming blue drink. I watched, for some reason slightly entranced as she tried to convince herself that this was something she wanted to do. I was slightly surprised at how young she looked. Like she couldn’t be more than 16 years old, how is it that she managed to get an alcoholic drink? Didn’t they card her? The bartender must be blind to not be able to tell that she was under-aged and probably still in high school. People chanted and cheered her on until she reached out to grab the straw the bartender held out to her, they spoke briefly, their words mumbled and incomprehensible at such a distance. She took a deep breath before sticking the straw into the drink, drinking it all down in one gulp. I turned my back to her before she was done. Well, it’s her problem now. Or should I say “theirs” because they were so going to jail for selling alcohol to a minor. I turned back toward Takashi as he laughed, tossing back his drink.
“Now, what were you saying?” He asked and I continued on where I left off as if I had not stopped. Once I found what I felt he did not like, I was in the zone, like in movies where all noise but what I’m saying zones out. It doesn’t take much for me to get there, but once I’m there it takes a car crashing into the building I’m in to get me out. Or at least that’s what I thought until moments later when she let out a cry of victory, picking up the glass and turning it upside down to show that it was empty, the glass clinked as it hit the wood of the bar counter. This sudden sound invited a whole new wave of noise 10xs as loud as the first, because now it included a semi-drunk teenage girl.
Tell me what you think and read the rest here! — Sage 🙂