Chapter 13: Chapter Thirteen

Aiden

"You can't meet them," the President insists, his voice firm. He deliberately uses 'them' to avoid disclosing anything about Author X's identity.

Frustration simmers at the edge of my skin, but I manage to calm down. I've been attempting to persuade him to establish a connection between MD Entertainment and his exclusive mystery author.

Our proposition assures that the author's identity will remain hidden from the public. However, we will need his direct involvement in some events, which needs to be rapid and won't leave time for the President to act as an intermediary. If it suits Author X, he could use a face mask during our meeting. But the response is still a solid no.

He isn't giving out the rights to any of his works to any other company besides his signed company, disregarding the benefits both parties will reap from this arrangement.

"I haven't seen them physically either," the President of Author X's company says. "Most of our interactions are conducted online."

Is the person an enigma? Why work so hard to keep themselves elusive?

I run a hand through my hair, realizing that there's no convincing this man to give in to our demands. Lachlan won't take no for an answer either. He deliberately set me up on this project to fail, and I won't give him the pleasure of it.

I'm never one to give up on the things I want, and I won't rest until Author X yields. Our offer is good. Our collaboration will take the world by storm.

I rise from my seat and extend my hand to the President for a handshake. He rises from his chair as well, joining hands with me over the center of his table.

Our handshake is firm and brief. "Until next time, President Banks," I say.

President Banks rolls his eyes with a hint of exasperation. "Please, Mr. Mendes. Don't make a wild goose chase. If I could help, I would have done so months ago. I can recommend another author who's just as good as Author..."

I shake my head, interrupting him.

Author X's elusiveness is part of his allure. It's what keeps his vast audience base intrigued, and that interest is what MD Entertainment is working on tapping into.

No other author could match the suitability of Author X for this project.

President Banks sighs as he observes that there's no persuading me from my set goal. "Very well," he says, smacking his lips closed.

I exit his office, trying to reflect on another stagnation in my search for Author X. Over the months, I've attended several of his exclusive fan clubs' meetups, hoping for a stroke of luck. However, I'm left with nothing. And the deadline to get the project moving is stretching thin.

Do I have to resort to unconventional means to discover the author's location?

I ponder and promptly scoff at my thoughts. I head back to my car, glancing at my phone for the umpteenth time. It's been a habitual habit over the week since I visited Hermione's home. I guess her answer is a solid no then.

I set my phone in the phone stand, start the engine, and drive home.

It's been a long day, and I want nothing more than to take a cold shower. I contemplate stopping at a bar first to unwind. I've been stressed a lot throughout this week, thanks to Lachlan's attention on me. I think he's trying to make me quit. It's what his mother has been doing as well. She insults me whenever she gets the chance, attempting to break me down.

But their efforts are a waste. Rather than break me, it's only making me stronger. The more they jab at me, the harder I steel my heart, immune to their flak.

Raymond's call pulls me out of my thoughts and makes a decision for me. I head to our regular hangout, making a detour.

We clink glasses of beer a few minutes later, drinking straight from the bottle. Raymond sits leisurely in his chair, throwing one arm casually across its elevated edge.

I sit across from him, trying to immerse myself in the electric atmosphere of the joint rather than my worries–work, personal, social, etc.

"You have that much on your plate?" Raymond inquires, tilting his beer in my direction before drinking again.

I look at him and answer, my voice barely audible over the din of the background music. "You can say that."

Raymond sets his beer bottle down on the table between us and leans forward.

The smell of spicy roasted chicken wafts through the air, steam billowing across from where the food is being prepared through the canopied space.

The joint is a small establishment in the locality. Despite its humble decor, the business teems with patrons, thanks to the mouthwatering menu crafted by its owner.

As the day darkens outside, the chill becomes more palpable, contrasting with the warmth generated by the steam surging from the grill inside. This dichotomy creates a cozy atmosphere within, while the outside is shrouded in a hazy fog of cold, illuminated only by the setting moon and the tiny dots of stars.

Raymond's and my table is situated near the door, allowing me to feel both the warmth inside and the chill outside. From this vantage point, I also have an unrestricted view of the day outside.

The ambiance is lovely around here. This joint has been our go-to place since high school, and it's my way of staying connected to my roots, despite the changes in my background.

"Have you had any luck with your girl?" Raymond questions, tilting his jaw in my direction.

I shake my head, scowling at the reminder.

"One-sided love, it seems," Raymond remarks, amusement glinting in his eyes.

I let out a dismissive sound. "It hurts like hell." I restrain myself from gripping the aching part of my chest at the mention of Hermione.

"Nemesis strike, you think? You've finally met your match," Raymond says with a hint of teasing.

I smirk, trying to appear nonchalant. "I'm going easy on her."

Raymond arches an eyebrow, cupping a corner of his mouth. "My man, I wondered if love had weakened your charms."

I ruffle an imaginary feather on my shoulders, hunching it with an air of faux haughtiness. "My game is still as good as ever."

Raymond laughs heartily, whisking a finger at me. "I missed this." A solemn note accompanies his words, and I share the sentiment. The reality of adulthood is a stark contrast to our childhood days, when we had nothing to worry about.

Our orders arrive, and my stomach rumbles in appreciation of the tantalizing dish. The aroma of roasted chicken and savory broth wafts through the air, making my mouth water.

After the table is set with steaming plates of chicken and broths for two, accompanied by more servings of beer, the waitress leaves with a warm smile. "Enjoy your meals, gentlemen."

Raymond follows the lady with his gaze before shifting his attention to the steaming food before us. He rubs his hands excitedly, reaching for a crispy deep-fried chicken part.

"What?" he asks when he catches my gaze, his hand pausing mid-air.

"I thought I was the playboy among the two of us," I remark, holding back a smirk.

Raymond chuckles, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "I'm not blind to an attractive woman when I see one, unlike you."

I pick up my spoon and take a sip of the broth, feeling it warm my belly and meld deliciously with the beer I've had. The flavors swirl on my tongue, prompting a smile on my face.

"God!" Raymond exclaims, throwing his head back as he bites into the chicken. "I love this place."

I nod in agreement, my mouth full from chewing on my own chicken. The flavors are rich and satisfying, and I appreciate the quality of the food.

Sometimes, when life seems overwhelming, this establishment is the exact place to unwind and restrategize. With each flavorful bite, I'm already getting inspiration for navigating the following morning with ease.