To be unpublished soon and rewritten!
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Warning: Highly Explicit Content.
Derek found himself down in the lobby at the post boxes before he left, going through their mail like he normally would do each morning, when he bumped into Mr and Mrs Coombs who stayed in apartment 8E below them, on his way out. Instead of telling them he was in a hurry, he decided to stay for a few minutes and catch up for a bit.
Their faces lit up as soon as they saw him. Tracey was fashionably dressed as always, wrapped in stylish black dabs of gloves, a handbag and a huge black hat, wafting of Chanel No.5.
She was holding her husband's Richards forearm as if she were trying to make a bold statement to any gold-digging woman in the room, that he was a happily married man.
"I got a standing ovation, for my performance last night so my wife and I decided to paint the town red today," Richard said to Derek, crushing his hand with a formal handshake the second he saw him.
Richard then pulled Derek to one side and patted him on the shoulder blade when he noticed Derek supporting his briefcase under his arm and just about every other thing that was of importance to him, including the letter, that he took without Melissa's knowledge.
"You going somewhere, old sport?" Richard asked Derek. He was an eccentric man in his late fifties with a pot-bellied stomach and a wrinkled face, hidden behind a tidy, white beard. For a man of his age, he had been remarkably strong and he sure did love throwing the word " old sport" around a lot like Gatsby would often do when he addressed someone.
A wave of shame crept up on Derek when he thought back to taking the letter without Melissa's knowledge. Of course, Derek wanted to make Melissa and their daughter happy but if he couldn't provide for them, then what was the point of all the endless possibilities sitting at his disposal if he wasn't even privileged enough to have at least one?
All this would be meaningless if he couldn't make it in this city. He would probably end up drinking again and destroy their marriage for good this time.
Derek cleared his throat and said while coughing nervously into his hand, "Yes, I am. I have an interview at a big firm on 5th Avenue that I'm already running late for."
"Well, You sure look great, son! Doesn't he look swell, sweetheart?" he asked turning and nodding his head at his wife. People stopped and just stared at them, as they walked by.
"It's a pity you're not into acting. You sure do have the face for the movies," Richard said, to Derek. He glanced over at his wife again and they both nodded their heads in agreement.
"I could have hooked you up with some big producers who still owe me a favour or two."
Derek politely smiled and said feeling flattered, "That's very kind of you, Sir. But acting has never really been my thing."
