Daniel Moore: Ceo

Ginger.

Since the day had dawned, it had been sunny. I had been staring out the dining room window as the children played at the carnival and had fun outside their homes. I had thought about going to the beach, but my mood had soured and I didn't want to be surrounded by more people. It was enough to have the company of Stella, my best friend, who had been living with me since I was nineteen.

We met in Las Vegas, we were both at the same party, separated at different tables, and with different people. At some point during the night, we decided to go to the bathroom and met there. Stella was fixing her makeup, I offered to help her and she quickly agreed. We stayed talking while she finished and on the same day, after leaving the party, we got a tattoo together. We decided to do it on our wrists, it's a heart with a red thread, maybe we did it because of the drunkenness of the moment or because we thought it was a good idea, I don't know, but at that time it seemed like one of the best things we could do.

I closed my eyes and remained still in my place. I didn't want to move from here, I felt bad, discouraging, and without any motivation. Since my parents went on their trip, I had felt empty. I spent a lot of time with them, I loved being with them, going out to dinner, cooking with mom, telling her about what happened during my day, laughing at Stella's foolishness, who they considered another daughter, and talking about guys.

My father wasn't a fan of listening to me talk about men, he said that none of them deserved me and that even though they were all the same, there were some that could be better or different. I pretended to be strong when they announced that they were going to Buenos Aires, I cheered them on and mentioned that it was one of the best ideas they had had in years. Mom got emotional when she saw that I agreed, she hugged me, cried, and swore that she was going to miss me. I would miss her too, much more than she probably thinks.

"Are you still sitting there? You should get up and find something to do," Stella says, coming out of her room. She has a towel wrapped around her tiny body and her hair loose.

"I don't want to, I'm fine here."

"And what's interesting about looking out the window?"

"The children are playing," I say neutrally. My tone of voice is monotone, I've been told many times throughout my life, it hurt to hear it at first, I took it as something bad or something that shouldn't be that way. I listened to how other girls had a feminine voice and how cute it sounded when they spoke, and I locked myself in my room and stood in front of the mirror just to practice what to say or how to speak. I wanted the boys at school to like me, it was stupid and I never told my parents because of shame, but I still feel insecure about it sometimes.

"That's not enough, come on, get up. You'll feel better if we go out or make a plan with Maria, I'm sure we'll do well if we drink a little."

"Don't you feel bad that they're gone?" I put my gaze on her and she makes a face.

"We've always been alone, I know we used to go there frequently, but you should be used to it, Ginger."

"It's just that I feel like something could happen to them there and I won't be there to help them. I won't be able to be there if they need something and that worries me. I want to be the one who helps them when they need it because I really love my parents and I'm really grateful for everything they've done for me."

Stella approaches me and holds my face with both hands, she always does it to clear my mind, she taps my cheeks and smiles from ear to ear.

"They'll be okay, you just have to make sure to write to them every day so you'll be at ease and they'll be happy that you can communicate with them."

I make a face of disgust and she lets go of me.

"Distance doesn't have to be an impediment to love and take care of someone, remember that."

"I will," I assure her.

I get up from the chair and put it back in its place. I review the work I have and check all the emails I have received from work. After highlighting the important emails and reviewing what some clients have asked for, I decide to continue with the company project. I am a graphic designer at Moore Enterprises and I have never attended in person. Everything I have done so far has been online and I feel much more comfortable that way. Some say that the boss is an imposing man, someone who doesn't let others into his life easily, and there are rumors that he is homosexual. I have never been a fan of gossip and I am not the type of person who will stay where everyone is commenting and laughing at others, but sometimes I like to investigate the company I work for.

I have to make several promotional flyers. There will be an event in a few days and the marketing department must promote what will be taking place. The concept has been left to my discretion. It was not something like "You have to make a flyer with the image of a beach and a pet," it was more like "We trust you, we know that whatever you do will be good."

After six o'clock, I made a sandwich with the ingredients left in the fridge. I watched Stella laugh at her phone and then she made a sign to let me know she was going to take my computer. When she did, she stopped laughing and frowned.

"What's up?"

"You've received an email from the vice president."

"Open it, it must be important. They rarely send me such personal emails."

"Dear Miss Ginger, it is a pleasure to inform you that you are cordially invited to the event on Saturday. Regards, Mr. Gabriel Moore."

Me? Invited? I can't believe the email says that," I say, as I approach to see it up close and make sure it's not a joke from Stella. I hope she's not lying because my heart is racing and beating at a thousand beats per minute. I pick up the computer and check it. After all, if I have been invited to the event on Saturday, it impresses me, but at the same time, it scares me. I don't want to meet my coworkers yet. I don't feel ready for that. I slide the computer to the other side and look at Stella nervously.

"I can't believe it," I say, as Stella shows me the email on my computer.

"You have to go," she says excitedly.

"I can't attend, I don't have any clothes and I don't know anyone there."

As I say that, I receive another email with two invitations - one for me and another for anyone I want to bring. Stella's eyes widen and she smiles like the Cheshire Cat. I hate her smile because I know exactly what it means, and I know she's going to want me to go with her. In fact, she's the one who will go with me.

"I have no idea how to get into that company, and I'm aware that everyone who works there dresses well and has money. We're not exactly the richest girls in town. And I love you, Stella, but I refuse to go."

"I'm not asking you to go just for me. You can go alone if you want, but I want you to attend because it will be an important step for you. It's the first time you've been invited. You have to go, Ginger."

"If Mom were here..."

"No," she snaps. "Your mom isn't here, your dad isn't either, and no one from your family is here. I'm here, and I'm telling you it's the best option you have. If you don't want to believe me, don't, but that's how it is."

"I'll go," I reply. "I have to go buy a dress suitable for the occasion, and I need to be prepared so that the work looks incredible. I'm not going there to watch everyone criticize the work I do."

"No one is going to criticize it. You're the best," she kisses my forehead and smiles warmly. She's right, it's the only thing I'm sure of when it comes to me - I'm good at what I do, and I've spent years perfecting my creativity for this moment. When I told my parents that I was going to study graphic design, I was afraid they would say it wasn't a good career choice. I was even afraid that they wouldn't support me in the decision I was making. But it was the opposite - they were happy, and Mom said it was the best choice of my life. I graduated from college, had already met Stella, and we both moved to Los Angeles. We paid for an apartment for the two of us, and then I bought a house for my parents.

As far back as I can remember, I've wanted to live near them, and when I had the opportunity to buy them a house so they could live near me, I was proud of what I had achieved. My job allows me to live comfortably, and Stella's work helps us have a great life.

I finished making my sandwich and went straight to finish my work tasks. I spent all night working, didn't sleep a wink, and had all the frustration on top of me. I drank many cups of coffee to stay awake and watched videos at the end, hoping to feel like I had at least rested a little. I don't think it worked enough because I was already falling asleep during the first video.

The next day, I woke up at 4 pm. It was Friday, and I had lost the whole day sleeping. For a second, I remembered all the work I had to do until I saw my computer on the kitchen table and noticed several cups around it. I always do that when I work - it's part of my personal brand and my messiness. The apartment remains clean only because Stella takes care of cleaning. I'm the cook in the house, and that's how we split up the heavy responsibilities that no one wants to do at the end of the day.

"It seems strange that she hasn't picked up the cups. It's four o'clock, and I don't feel her presence in any corner of the apartment. She must have gone out or be at Maria's house. Sometimes when I sleep too much, she leaves to distract herself or simply to get some fresh air.

Byron is a beach on the outskirts of the city, it actually looks more like a small town on its own. It has a relaxed atmosphere, there are supermarkets, clothing stores, nightclubs, hotels, affordable apartments that you can buy to stay there without paying, and a series of things that are definitely worth it. I have a list of things I would like to do in Byron. It's like the place I've always wanted to live in. I wish my life were a beach movie, and I could go wherever I want without fear or regrets. I've thought a lot about what my life would be like there, whether I would like to live near the beach or the town, whether I would want to marry a sexy surfer, or stay here in Los Angeles waiting to fall in love with a famous model or actor. Sometimes I think that I have burnt my brain from reading too many books.

My mind is flooded with a perfect life. I think I have almost the perfect life I want, except for a boyfriend and a group of male friends who will take care of me as if I were the most important thing in their eyes. Byron is my destination when I have enough money to buy a car and another apartment and settle there.

"Ginger!" Maria shouts with excitement as she opens the apartment door. I hug her confused because I don't remember giving her the key, and then I see Stella entering behind her.

"I brought you a dress," she announces.

I can't believe it."

If I had to choose a person to buy clothes and renew my wardrobe, I would undoubtedly choose Stella without thinking twice. She knows me best and knows the most about my tastes. She has an idea of how I like my necklines, which type of necklines I prefer, or if I would choose a long-sleeved or short-sleeved dress. She even knows which color suits me best and if I would be willing to wear something with bright colors like neon yellow or green.

The clothing has always been our favorite topic between us. In the first few months when we met, I was in a phase where I liked to buy so much clothes that I spent weeks choosing what I wanted. During that time, I would send Stella photos of the things I liked and the things that I thought would look good on me. I explained why, told her which shades always looked good on my body, and also gave her a summary of why I liked one dress style over another.

She did the same with me. We were far away, but we learned to know each other's tastes through long and numerous explanations and photos.

Stella and Maria have brought a beautiful dress. It's a long black mermaid cut dress with a beautiful silver belt. As I look at it, I can't believe it's mine, and I hug them both.

"You're the best," I whisper.

"We knew you would be tired from work, so we decided to help you and went to buy the dress. Do you like it? Is it what you wanted, or were you expecting something else?" Stella asks.

"It's...perfect."

"I'll come tomorrow to get you ready. Stella will prepare everything else in the meantime."

"Don't you plan to go to a hair salon or let Maria fix you up?" I ask, wrinkling my brow. Usually, Maria fixes us because it's part of her job. She's a professional stylist and makeup artist. We studied at the same time, graduated from the same university, and went to several courses together.

Maria has straight black hair, black eyes, and is as white as snow. I like her skin color, and I like how the black of her hair stands out with all the clothes she wears. She's a very pretty girl, and any guy with a pair of eyes notices her.

We spent the whole day talking about what we would do tomorrow, arranging everything, and hoping that everything would go according to plan. According to Stella, she wouldn't go to the hair salon tomorrow because she would take care of preparing the food, cleaning the house, and helping me with whatever I need. "If Maria has time, then she will take care of fixing me up a bit," she said, and both Maria and I nodded, but deep down, I knew we would help her do everything she needed.

We were a team of three, and even though only two of us lived together, Maria knows she can count on us for whatever she needs.

"So, any updates?"

"Mr. Moore has a brother named Gabriel Moore. They usually differentiate themselves because Gabriel always introduces himself by his name, and the boss is always called 'Mr. Moore.' I've never had the opportunity to talk to co-workers about what the boss is like, but some comments on websites say that he's a man you shouldn't get too close to."

"Websites always say nonsense. Ten percent of what they say is true, and the rest are pure lies made up to get fame and money at the expense of influential people. Never let yourself be led by what they say."

"It's not something I believe," I excuse myself. "It's just that it's the only thing I have about him for now."

"Have you looked for his pictures?" Stella asks from the other end of the room. She's sitting on the couch and has changed. Now she's wearing a hippo pajama and has her hair tied in a ponytail.

"I've seen one, but you couldn't see his face."

"Instagram," Maria points out. "It's the best option if you want to see photos of an important person. There, you'll find parts of their life and maybe some places they've traveled to. If you want to go tomorrow, you should know what your boss looks like. Haven't you seen him when you had the interview for the job?"

I shake my head.

"I remember that day. I was in a hurry and took the elevator up. I had the interview and asked the secretary, but she said that the Moores had gone on a trip and couldn't see me today."

"And how did you get the job?"

"Because I left my resume with the secretary, and she called Gabriel, who apologized repeatedly for forgetting our meeting and said that his secretary was qualified to interview me. I didn't expect to get the job, and certainly not in that way."

"Damn, you were lucky."

"I was even surprised when I found out how I got the job," the curly-haired girl mentions.

"I'll look for his profile."

It doesn't take her more than half an hour to find it. She raises her eyebrows impressed and bites her lower lip. Maria always does that when a man seems extremely attractive to her. Her expressions make me want to see him too and know what's so special about him or what his facial features are like.

The three of us usually have different tastes in guys, I guess that's why we've never fought over a man.

"Damn, you have us all eager now," Stella blurts out, and Maria turns the phone around. "Mother of God."

He's handsome, not just handsome, his face is manly.

He's the sexiest man I've ever seen in my entire life.

His thick lips.

His defined jawline.

His strong arms and defined torso.

Black hair and blue eyes.

And he's white-skinned, the perfect man stereotype that I have in my mind.