15. Lalochezia

Saturday, June 13th—11:23 a.m.

929 words. Approximate reading time: 4 minutes, 38 seconds.

Clara slowly emerged from the pool, dripping and glistening in the late morning sun. She made her way across the deck to the lounge chair where she had set her towel before her swim. Grabbing the towel, she began to dry her hair off as she moved toward the back door of her mansion. The door slid open quietly at her presence, and she stepped into a large but sparingly furnished room, leaving drops of water on the marble floor in her wake.

“Rachel, TV,” Clara said. “Finance.” The television hung above the fireplace flicked on, tuned to the Financial News Network. A talking head sitting at a desk in an apartment somewhere was discussing recent stock exchange news. Clara watched intently for a few minutes, listening for any news on her own company.

She finished giving herself a quick once-over with her towel and tossed it on the back of a chair, grabbing the plush robe that she had laid out and slipping it on. “Rachel, TV,” she said, causing the television to turn off. She let out a quiet sigh and walked into her office just off of the great room.

She sat at her desk and picked her headset up, gently sliding it onto her head and adjusting the earpieces and the eyepiece to her comfort. “Rachel, office,” she said, and suddenly her office building appeared in front of her, a fifty-story skyscraper in a bustling downtown area. Other people soon came into existence, walking back and forth along the sidewalk in front of her building, likely returning to work from their lunch breaks.

Clara entered her office building and was greeted by Boris at the security desk.

“Good afternoon, Ms. Sealy,” he said with a smile. Clara breezed past him to the elevators and pushed the “up” button. The elevator doors slid open and Clara stepped inside before pushing the button for the fiftieth floor. Instantly the doors slid open again, and Clara was on a different floor. She stepped back out and walked through a brightly-lit cubicle farm, where nearly a hundred individual workers were toiling away at their computers. A few glanced up at her as she walked past, but most of them knew better.

She approached a set of ornate double-doors, and walked through them to find her assistant sitting at his desk, typing furiously. He seemed very lost in thought and didn’t notice her at first.

“Hi, Ross,” Clara said after a moment, and Ross nearly jumped out of his seat.

“Oh, Ms. Sealy!” he exclaimed. “I’m so sorry; I wasn’t expecting you to come in today.”

“Really? Why not?”

“Well, I don’t know if you’ve seen the news—”

“Of course,” Clara said. “I watched FNN for a bit this morning, nothing came up.”

“Oh, well, it wasn’t FNN, Ms. Sealy.”

“What do you mean, Ross? Tell me what’s going on.”

“Well, The Celeb Report picked up on last night’s party and they’re having a field day with it.”

Clara groaned. “Ugh, what now?”

“Uhm, okay, so it seems like someone that was working last night managed to get a recording and it’s going viral. People aren’t very happy about... uh... they’re calling it ‘a flagrant disregard for public safety.’”

“Oh!” Clara exclaimed. “Public safety? That’s absolutely ridiculous. First of all, it was a private party at my private residence, so what does that have to do with the public?”

“I know, ma’am, I’m just relaying—”

“Secondly, we took plenty of precautions! All of the waitstaff, the valets, the caterers, they were all wearing masks.”

“I understand, ma’am, but I think people are more concerned about the fact that none of the guests were required to wear masks,” Ross said quietly.

“Well, of course they weren’t!” Clara shouted. “They were my guests! This is just completely—” She cut herself off with a loud sigh. “Whatever, it’s fine. I knew this was coming. The damned media always has something to say about everything, always has to make mountains out of molehills. It’s ludicrous.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Ross said. “Do you want me to issue any sort of statement?”

“Why would I?” Clara sneered. “I don’t have anything to explain or apologize for. And why should I even care? We’re hitting record profits again this quarter. The shareholders are happy, and they don’t give a shit about this kind of middle school playground bully nonsense. Hell, half of them were there last night!”

“Yes, ma’am,” Ross said. “So... I guess we’ll just go through your agenda for the rest of the afternoon?”

“Push it all back to Monday, Ross,” Clara said. “I’m taking a mental health day.”

“Yes, m—” Ross began as Clara disappeared right before his eyes.

She ripped off her headset and tossed it down on her desk unceremoniously. She sat in her desk chair and stared at the walls silently for a few minutes, before standing up and walking back out into the great room. She looked around at her beautifully appointed home and all of her expensive things.

“Fuuuuuuuuuck!” she screamed suddenly. Her voice bounced off of the walls and echoed back to her. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and screamed again, listening to the echoes. She sighed. “That’s a little better, I guess,” she said to no one. “This’ll blow over, Clara. They always do. Maybe I’ll just go for another swim to take my mind off things.”

She slinked across the great room, undoing her robe and sliding it off of her shoulders before tossing it back across the chair it had been on before. She made her way to the back door, which slid open for her just as her bare foot slid along a small puddle of water on the marble floor.