GOLDEN || S. REID

𝟸: 𝚂𝚊𝚗 𝙵𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚒𝚜𝚌𝚘, 𝙲𝙰

The meeting lasted two hours. Two whole hours of mind-numbing boredom paired with false sympathies from the Holloways. Even so, Eliza invited them to the benefit afterward in an attempt to assure herself that there was still a partnership between the two companies.

"I'll see you next Wednesday, Mr. Holloway," Eliza shook his hand. She brought his wife, Lisa, in for a hug shortly after, thanking the woman for being there. "You two have a good night, now."

"We'll see you on Wednesday, Ms. Hamilton," Mr. Holloway confirmed. Lisa hung off her husband's arm, a cordial smile stretched out over her plastic features.

The couple left her office just as fast as they entered, cuing Julia to enter with a stack of take-out menus not even a minute later. It was late nights like these that made the young assistant so loveable. She always knew what Eliza wanted, always one step ahead. Julia was just good like that.

"You had Chinese last night, so you have an option of American or Indian for tonight. I don't suggest Indian, seeing as you still have the meeting with the FBI agents."

Eliza walked back over to her desk, collapsing into the comfortable office chair. "I want a salad," she decided, not even taking a moment to look through the menus Julia brought to her.

She spun around, looking out the large window that overlooked the city of San Francisco. The city lights twinkled far below the office, brushing the wide expanse above. "Something light, maybe chicken caesar."

"Gosh," Julia's face contorted into one of disgust. "A salad? Are you sure you're feeling alright, boss?"

Eliza spun back around. "I'm feeling fine," she assured. "I'm sure I'll have a pint of ice cream when I get home later. Carli will probably hate me for that but I don't really care."

"Okay, so you want a chicken caesar for dinner and a tub of chocolate ice cream when you get home." Julia mentally took down Eliza's order, tucking the menus into the crook of her arm. "I'll be back in ten. Can I drive the Beemer?"

It was hard for Eliza to say no to Julia's puppy-dog eyes.

"No scratches," she agreed, waving to the closet in the corner of the office. Julia bounced to the storage unit. She opened its wooden doors and took the keys off the little plastic command strip hook.

Eliza shuffled the files around on her desk as Julia bunded out of the office, the door closing not a moment later. She couldn't help but smile to herself as her assistant left. The bubbly personality rubbed off on Eliza more than she would have liked.

She didn't know what it was about the college-aged girl that always put her in a good mood. Maybe it was because she didn't take any of Eliza's shit and called her out on her issues better than any therapist could.

Speaking of the therapist...

"I should bribe Dr. Smith to let me off the rest of my appointments," Eliza muttered. She leafed through one of the stacks of documents piled on her desk. She pulled Thomas's will from the bottom of the leftmost pile.

Of all fifty stark-white pages, Eliza hated page thirty-seven the most. Page thirty-seven stated that Eliza had to attend five therapy sessions to be able to claim anything Thomas had left her.

She'd already attended three, booking them as close as she possibly could have. With her schedule, she was lucky that she had been able to have three consecutive weeks of sessions. The next two were further apart, much to her displeasure.

"Of course Thomas had to get murdered," Eliza muttered to herself. She tossed the professionally-bound packet into an open drawer, closing it with the toe of her heel. She mentally cursed Thomas Abernathy into his grave. "He couldn't have passed away in his sleep like everyone else."