I walked into the office, slightly late, in a pair of black skinny jeans and a red top. After giving my name to the receptionist, she gave me a look of disgust before leading me to a room. She'd obviously read the story in the paper a few months ago. I gave her a smug smile, purposefully increasing her revulsion. She left after giving me a dirty look.
I walked further into the room. There was a small kitchen area and a couple couches. There was a girl sat on one of the couches. Her dark blonde hair looked somewhat... dishevelled. She'd probably arrived without the items necessary for a shower.
She glanced over at me as I entered and went back to staring into space without saying a word. I sat opposite her.
"I'm Jaimie," I said.
"Robin," she replied.
"Hi." She didn't reply.
I raised an eyebrow but didn't say anything else. I looked around the room, for anything of interesting to look at in the awkward silence. I could see her watching me out the corner of my eye.
"Problem?" I asked.
"Are you Jaimie Evans?" she asked.
"I am," I confirmed.
"You were found half naked in an alleyway with the Prime Minister's daughter," she said.
I smiled. "I was indeed."
She didn't say anything else, giving me the opportunity to study her further. She was pretty, her striking blue eyes contrasting my dark green ones. Her hair was short, not a particularly wonderful colour, but not the worst I'd seen. She was very quiet, but she was - probably - sober, and a lot of girls I knew got more confident as they drank.
That was when I realised I was analysing her, like I did with every possible partner, male and female alike, it didn't matter to me. It had been three years since I'd been in a proper relationship, the last being Carter, the man I now shared a house with.
As the clock on the wall ticked over ten in the morning, the door opened and Rody Olivers stepped in. I hoped he didn't expect me to stand, because I wasn't planning to. He smiled, looking around the room. His smile faltered; the third wasn't here. Then he came in, bumping right into Olivers. After sincerely apologising several times and turning a deep red colour, he came in. At first impression, I didn't think he'd make it in a rock band.
As Olivers began to speak, I looked over the newest arrival. His hair was dyed black, which rather suited his baby blue eyes. Where Robin's blue eyes were stark, this man's eyes were soft and had that puppy-dog look to them, helped by the bags under his eyes which clearly signified him as a user. Then I decided I should probably be listening to our new manager. It was something about a contract, so I promptly zoned out again. I was the type of guy that would just sign without reading it properly.
I tried to look like I was at least half listening, but I found my eyes being constantly drawn back to that guy.