The 100 Year Paint Job

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Thursday, 4:00

“You have to stay away from Judith Wilkinson if you want to succeed in the business world.”

“I don’t understand how a woman named Judith could possibly be a threat, she sounds like an Amish woman,” I said to Samuel Curtis, my boss. He grasped his hears with his hands and began expressing the words he could not find by shaking his hands vigorously and making angry, tense gestures.

“Laura, you don’t get it. Two weeks ago you were my intern, if I really felt like it, I would make you go get me a coffee and forget that this whole promotion happened. You have amazing people skills and great ideas though, so I won’t make you add two sugars...”

I shook my head, “I’m not your intern anymore.”

I scoffed, for the man who made me feel the happiest I have ever felt in my life with simple words (“Laura, you’re a genius! You’re promoted!”), he could also be a control freak. I understand that people can be threatened and hey, protecting me is touching.

But I don’t need comfort.

Two weeks ago.

“Hey, where’s my iced coffee?” Mr. Curtis shouted. He had a million files loading on his desktop and the only thought on his mind that could happen in less than four hours was a coffee. I had been requested to do so about fifteen minutes prior.

I got a little sidetracked.

There’s a guy here, in the office, who was just recently promoted to a Runner. A Runner goes from room to room and asks if there is any small job that they can complete to lift the weight of the major financial company. He was an intern with me when I joined and he helped me learn the ropes.

He is also painfully attractive and his smile can make me forget the orders I’ve been given and become numb to the stabbing disappointment of businessmen and women who expect more from me. Greg saved me from quitting the internship; I didn’t even want to be an associate at the company! He showed me that if I learned how to impress these people, they would recommend me to the people I want to impress; the architects. I know, not the most exciting job to street folk, but to me, designing and building and watching something you started from the base of concrete rise into a beautiful living space is something I would watch on loop. I love making beautiful things.

Greg pulled me out of my coffee run to show me the back stairwell. I asked him what was so special about it? It didn’t seem interesting at all. It was just a dull, gray stairwell with a railing and an air vent. He shook his finger at me, “If you want to do something with your life in designing homes and buildings and structures, you have to learn to reconfigure one.” I had no clue what he was talking about at all whatsoever. Reconfigure an ugly stairwell?

Was he crazy?

He asked what the first idea of remodeling it was. I said it needs color.

“Okay then, that’s a good start. We will come back here tomorrow and you have to go to the depot and get some paint samples. We are going to fix up this stairwell together, Laura!” he had a giant grin on his face that I couldn’t understand.

Why was he so happy about a stairwell? A stairwell! Are you kidding?

He gave me a key and told me that they hadn’t used the well in years, apparently there was an evacuation and the building was on fire five floors above floor 33e, my floor. The employees ran to the staircase, but it was too narrow to fit so many workers at a time. They never entered the well again in memory of those who didn’t survive the fire. I don’t know how Greg knows this, but I believed him. It was a great stairwell, if there’s a scale for greatness in stairwells? There had to be some strange reason for not using it.

After he showed me this, I was delighted. I had a bit of a hop in my step as I locked the door behind me and tucked the key in my pocket of my slacks.

I suddenly heard Mr. Curtis requesting his beverage and I froze. Greg turned around and laughed at me. I scoffed, “If it was you, you’d be scared too!” and I rushed to the coffee room grinning at his continued laughter until I couldn’t hear it anymore.

Mr. Curtis wasn’t impressed with me, and I explained how guilty I felt. He said he understood but there was something more important on his mind.

“Laura, I’ve heard rumors that you want to design architecture, not work in the financial business. Is it true?”

I honestly felt like if I told the truth, I would be fired on the spot, but then again I would never in a million years work in that building because I wanted to.

“Yes, I’m only doing this for the pay and the experience; I hope you aren’t disappointed in me, sir.”I felt like a little kid about to be put in time out, or for me, on the streets. My hands were shaking, so I put them behind my back.

“You know, you’re the first intern to ever be honest with me. Most of the others just nod their heads and do what I say and go home. I like that you have a dream, kid. I’ll see what I can do to help you with your little dream.” I had no idea what he was saying. Wait, was he offering to help me!? I thanked him and he told me I could clock out early. I rushed to the locker room and retrieved my backpack and made it about three steps out when I saw Greg. I had completely forgotten about the stairwell in the chaotic mindset that Curtis put in my mind. Oh crap.

“Laura? Is that you?” he asked, cocking his head and redirecting his attention to me rather than his paperwork in his briefcase.  I sighed.

What if he gets upset? He has dreams too…

“Hey, Greg! I was just uh, leaving.”

Laura, you’re an idiot!

“Cool, where are you headed? It’s only noon.”

“Um, that’s a good question,” I laughed. He perked up a smile.

“Why don’t I call off early and I take you to brunch?” He asked. I agreed and he pinched his cheeks to make them pink and walked into the office of the man he was helping. I heard the muffled excuse that he wasn’t feeling well and feared he was running a temperature. All this for a brunch date with me? I was laughing silently when he came out grinning.

“Let’s go!” he said.

I was excited to leave the crammed office early and not have to experience the thrills and annoyances of rush hour, but I was also excited to have a lunch date with someone so handsome as Greg himself.

I've always thought my type was more of a blonde and brown eyes mix, but Greg Scott changed that. He has a jawline so sharp if I touched it, it would draw blood. His green eyes sparkle whenever he gets an idea. Green eyes are rare, which made me more intrigued. I guess I've never pictured me with a brunette only because I am one too and I guess I wanted to see what other hair colors had to offer...sometimes I'm a real nerd.

We arrived at the spot and he opened the door for me, as he followed in I could almost hear his thoughts as his eyes were focused on my a*s. Okay then.

Two weeks later, Thursday, 2:00

"Laura get that fine a*s over here so we can keep painting!" Greg laughed. I grinned and strutted over to give him a nice peck on the cheek.

"No worries babe I've got until 4 to do this today."

I uncovered all the paint I binge bought last night, reds, turquoises, hues of purple and green, and white.

"Honey, those don't go together," Greg mumbled under his breath so I wouldn't get angry with him.

"I know," I laughed to myself. "We are going to make them!" I know I sounded like a crazy cat lady who found another passion besides cats that made no sense, but I didn't really care.

We rolled up our sleeves and decided to start with the wall that the door was sitting on, if we did something that people could see directly, our project may take a little longer.

After about an hour and a half of painting the wall white, I stopped when a brilliant idea flashed in my head.

"Stop!"

I closed my eyes to save the thought that could have easily fled. We were going to paint the whole stairwell white, from top to bottom.  Then, we would get a bunch of shoes and tell stories. Not like writing with shoes, but we would put them on and tell stories through the paint on our feet. If someone was late the steps would be blurry and close together. If a girl turned around to run to her boy and kiss him, well, I had no problem making the sandals or high heels depict that. On the walls we could simply write in black letters, not too big or showy, but we could write

Stories are passages to the mind's most creative depths; show us yours.

Every story becomes one that is old, come into our stairwell, and make your own unique story told.

Then we would include in the bottom that you could dip your shoes in whatever color paint and retrace your steps and tell your story.

"That's so brilliant holy s**t!" I laughed at his enthusiasm.

"One thing sugar,"

"What's that?"

"This is going to take like, a century to fill up the case with steps. How are we going to do it?"

"Well, the 100 year paint job starts now!"

We managed to paint about .4% of the stairwell today because Greg got the smart idea of putting paint on his hands and hugging me. We ended up having an all out paint war, but in respect for the dress code we were smart to be wearing sweats over our business wear. I looked at my phone when my alarm went off 5 minutes before my meeting with Mr. Curtis. I closed all the paint jars and kissed him as I left.

 

"Don't forget, dinner with my mother tonight," he reminded me. I nodded and left for the office.

The door was cracked open and I pushed it a bit until it made a squeak, then I just opened it. Mr. Curtis was pouring himself a Whiskey mix of some sort when he looked up and offered me some.

"No thanks, I'm only 20."

He nodded and placed the alcohol back into his cooler behind him. He took a deep inhale and exhale and cracked his knuckles and his neck. Something was about to go down.

"Miss Anderson, to what do I owe the pleasure of having you in my office?" He asked as he was clicking a pen to the speed of light.

"Well, I have a proposition for you. The old stairwell, I believe it's known as Stairwell G, has been abandoned, am I mistaken?"

"No you are not, proceed."

"Since I would like to go into design and architecture, I feel like I should show you that I am serious about my future profession. What if I redid the stairwell and made it an exhibit of the lives of businesspeople? Everyone thinks you're all so boring, but I think there's more underneath all the stacks of paperwork and emails. Do you follow?" This was going really well! I've never sounded so professional in my life, even I wouldn't mess with me!

"Absolutely not."

"Pardon me, I think I heard you wrong?"

"No you didn't miss, I am rejecting your offer."

I was so shocked! It was such a good idea, why couldn't he see that?

"Is there a reason for the refusal?"

"My wife died in that stairwell when the evacuation was called, Laura. There is no way I'm letting my wife's last moments on this earth just turn into some exhibit of why you don't even want to work here!" He took a long sip of his drink and stared at me.

Think Laura, think!

"I've got it!" I said. There had to be a way to honor his wife and complete the job we had already started.

"Shoot."

"What if it honors those who passed? Loved ones can put on shoes, maybe that they wore, and cover the soles in a color that represents the person and retrace their steps on that stairwell. This will give you a chance to, no pun intended, walk around in your wife's shoes in the final moments and feel like you are with her. On top of that, other people can trace their stories and you can trace your wife's. How great is that?"

He was silent and started dead into my eyes. He fumbled with his pen a little more and when I thought my internship would be ended in that moment, he threw the pen over his shoulder and grinned.

"Laura, you're a genius! You're promoted! Now get out of my office and get to work young lady." He laughed and opened the door for me on the way out.

About a minute later he emailed me and sent me all the warrants I needed to make this official business. He also sent me a schedule that I was not to break. I was to work 3 hours that night and fix it up, which was doable! I was so excited and got to work so fast, that I completely forgot about Greg's mother waiting for my presence at dinner.

The next morning Mr. Curtis came to see my work. I had actually stayed overnight because I had so much progress and so many new ideas. I decided to write the names of all those lost in black and color code them to the color of the paint that the shoe would have. I was almost done writing the big phrase that Greg and I brainstormed when Curtis entered. I looked to see what he was thinking, but his tears said enough.

"Ever since Haley passed I've needed the closure that this gives me. You know, I never touched a drink before this. I was in such a dark place for years. Fifteen years without your soulmate is too long. This year is going to be sixteen since I last held her. Thank you Laura, you're helping a lot of people by doing this." He hugged me, which I was not expecting, and I awkwardly hugged back. Then I saw Greg in the window.

Holy crap! I forgot about his mother! She was supposed to recommend me to the chamber of the design and structures! How could I get so sidetracked?

As Mr. Curtis left the stairwell, an angry Greg entered.

"You know, I'm so happy that this is becoming a reality for you, I really am. But with my mother, she is either backing you 400%, or she hates you. Lucky you, she just knighted you her newest enemy. Don't worry, there will be no more dinners with her to make up for your carelessness. See ya later!" He was so angry and dark, I didn't know what to say. I just nodded and sat down on a step that had dried.

Mr. Curtis walked back in and sat beside me. He hadn't left when I thought he had. He shook his head and placed his arm around me.

"That kid's mother is the Judith Wilkinson. Do you know her?"

"No," I sighed.

"She's a pretty big deal here, considering she's slept with all the people who matter in this city and is married to the big buck billionaire Warren Wilkinson. She's one nasty b***h to have against you, kid." He looked like he was at my funeral the way he was shaking his head.

"What if she's actually better than you thought?" I asked. Most people like me, after all.

"You have to stay away from Judith Wilkinson if you want to succeed in the business world, or any world for that matter. Even if you lived in a dumpster she would ruin your life more to get a kick out of it.

"Then how is Greg not like her?" I asked.

"Well, he met you and changed his attitude, darling. So basically, get that boy on your side and you might just persuade his mother. Kind of a twisted way to start an affair, but hey, whatever works and saves your back." He stood up and brushed his pants off and smiled at me.

"Are you saying you're paying me to have an affair with Greg, whom I actually like? Just to get to his mother? Whom you obviously don't? How twisted!" I scoffed and left the stairwell and my boss behind me.

"Hey, it'll be $20 an hour, how could you refuse?" He called after me.

Was I really going to do this?

Hello from the author! I left off here because I wanted to publish this much and get feedback to decide how to continue it. I know basically nobody on this website knows I exist, so I would really appreciate it if some people spread the word. I used to do creative writing, but my school doesn't offer it anymore so my expertise is dwindling a little. Please leave reviews, do you think this is even worth finishing? Yes? No?

Thanks so much!

Rose

Author's Note

Please leave feedback, one word or a paragraph I just would like to see my strengths and weaknesses and I would like to know if this is even appealing or interesing.
Thank you.