To Color Your Life

"Hmm, Hayes... I've heard that name somewhere. You've got this name from your mother's or father's side?" the man asked.

"My father's," Emily replied. Why is he asking?

"Hmm, you've got it from your father, you're saying. Very interesting."

The girl had no idea what was interesting about that, but the old man looked pleased with her answer.

They climbed the steps and entered the building through the main entrance. Emily did not need to go there, the entrance to the Pharaoh magazine was generally on the other side. But abandoning someone in need of your help would be wrong, right?

"Good afternoon, Mr. Pitcher," the security guard at the reception jumped up and beamed as if he had been waiting for this old man's arrival all his life.

"Hello, Billy. How is your wife, kids?" asked the gray-haired dandy.

"Thank you, everything is fine. Are you going upstairs? I can accompany you there."

Yes, do that, please, Emily become very happy. I'm late for work, and you really don't mind helping, she mentally sent a signal to the security guard.

The girl was about to let go of the man's elbow when he grabbed her hand and patted her in a friendly way, "Don't worry, Billy. This Miss will help me get to the place where I'm going. Have a good working day."

Old man turned around and quite briskly, leaning on a cane, went to the elevators. Emily could only follow in silence.

It seems that this Mr. Pitcher was not an ordinary person, since the security reacted to him that way. Maybe this is one of the respected authors of the publishing house? The surname is somehow familiar. Emily tried to remember where she heard it, but her memory was deaf to these attempts.

"Which floor do you need, sir?" she asked.

"To the topmost."

Oh. The upper floor. Where the management of the publishing house works, including the main boss?!

No, this man is clearly not the author. Emily just now noticed that the watch on his wrist was from an expensive brand, and the top of the cane was adorned with precious stones and gold.

Hayes, who the hell did you accidentaly bump into?! Maybe this is one of the founders?

While the convolutions in the girl's brain were trying to throw neural connections to one another and still remember where she heard this name, the elevator for top management opened its doors.

The man waved his cane for her to enter first and followed her.

"How do you like working at the publishing house, Miss Hayes?" he asked about the tenth floor.

"Thank you for your question, I like it very much. Both the management and the staff are attentive and responsive," Emily replied in a calm tone.

Gosh, forty more floors! This is a high-speed elevator, what the hell is it going up like a turtle?!

The man nodded, satisfied with the answer. At least that's what Emily thought, because he didn't ask anything else.

They left on the floor that Hayes already knew, but in this part she only stopped by once. And she was wearing not the most appropriate outfit.

"Hello, Fiona." Mr. Pitcher greeted Mrs. Parkenson.

Ok, Hayes, you're in trouble.

The surprised face of the chief secretary of the head of the publishing house was worth a lot. Yeah, who would not be surprised when a trainee (who is also de jure fired) appears in the boss's waiting room.

"Good afternoon, Mrs. Parkenson," Emily squeezed out a greeting.

"Mr. Pitcher, why are you with Miss Hayes? You didn't say you're coming. I would have come out to meet you."

That's what I'm saying, grandpa! Look how many people are ready to meet you, and you decided to drag me here, along with you!

Oh, if only Justin's father was not there. Emily was not ready to meet him now.

"Is Roger at his office?"

"Yes, Mr. Evans is in the office."

Damn.

"Well, since you got where you wanted, I think I'll go," Emily smiled politely and tried to pull her hand out, but the doddering old man was holding it tight. The attempt failed.

"I haven't gotten to where I wanted to be yet, a few more steps that way," he waved his cane toward the huge oak door.

But I don't need to go there! Absolutely!

You fool, you should have eaten a chocolate bar from a vending machine in your office! Why on Earth did you decide to go for this stupid hot dog, Hayes?!

Emily lowered her head and obediently followed Mister Pitcher. He was clearly the big shot if he spoke to the head of the publishing house by name.

This could only be allowed to...

The neural networks in the girl's brain finally began working. But it was too late.

She has already entered the office of the main boss of the publishing house arm in arm...

With the founder and the owner of this very publishing house!

Wholy shit...

"Roger, look who I brought!" the old man declared cheerfully. Too cheerful for someone who considers himself an old gummer.

Roger Evans looked up from the papers, "Hello father. You didn't say you were coming. Good afternoon, Miss Hayes."

"H-hello." When Emily muttered her greeting, the last remnants of her life force seemed to have vanished into a thin air.

Father? Father?! Justin's dad called Mr. Pitcher father?!

"Mrs. Evans, oh, sorry, this young lady is still Miss Hayes," Grandpa grinned and Emily blushed like boiled crawfish. He was sitting next to her on the bench when she was talking to Kelly!

Lord, show me a hole where I can bury myself, and don't forget to cover me with the ground!

Why does she meet all the relatives of the boss in the most ridiculous way?!

"Miss Hayes has kindly agreed to accompany me. By the way, call this little bugger. Why should I do all the work for him?"

Mr. Evans nodded, picked up the receiver on his work phone and dialed, "Justin, come over to me. Grandpa is here, hmm, with your girlfriend."

"He will be in a moment," Roger replied, and went back to reviewing the papers. The presence of Mr. Pitcher and Emily did not bother him in the least.

"Miss Hayes, if you want something to drink, I'll ask Fiona to get us something. Tea, coffee. There is a large selection here. Have a seat, don't stand at the door. Make yourself at home," suggested the main boss.

Can I have some vodka? Two glasses?

"Thank you Mr. Evans, I just had lunch so don't worry," Emily nodded in gratitude and sat down in the nearest chair. If she had not sat down, she would have definitely fallen down.

The door to the main boss's office opened, and her personal boss flew into the room.

"Emily?" Justin stared at the girl in surprise.

Don't even ask how I got here, her eyes begged.

He turned to Mr. Pitcher. "Grandpa, I asked you not turn on your do-it-yourself approach!"

The man snorted in displeasure, "I didn't do anything. I just asked Miss Hayes to walk me here. Is it forbidden? With my health, you know, it's dangerous to walk alone."

Justin rolled his eyes and let out a loud breath, "Grandpa, what's so wrong with your health? You won the twenty kilometer sprint last month!"

What?! What an old shameless liar!

Emily stared at the gray-haired man in shock. And he was calling himself an old gummer?! He noticed the dumbfounded look of the girl and shrugged innocently.

"I must have said not the right word, probably. At my age, this is excusable. And you," he hit Justin on the ankle with his cane, which made Emily's boss jump back and hiss, rubbing his leg, "While you are sitting there, trying to figure out what to do, I'll kick the bucket."

"I said next week. Is it so hard to wait?!" Evans protested.

"Why should I wait to meet a beautiful girl, hm?" grinned Mr. Pitcher and looked at Emily. Oh, she had already seen a similar look in someone else. You don't even need to point your finger.

Here, he is standing nearby and puffing with discontent, like a steam locomotive.

"Miss Hayes, I hope you are free tomorrow?"

The question of the founder of the publishing house sounded like a rhetorical one. The girl's answer did not really bother him.

"That's great. Remind your boyfriend then that he has to bring you to our place for lunch tomorrow. So you can meet the family."

Emily had no choice but to nod.

Perfect, Hayes.. Just perfect. You've met the family!