|
|
Post by WHITLEY DENT on Jan 12, 2012 17:25:39 GMT -5
. Polos and cargo shorts were not the ideal type of dress to require when Whitley’s job was hauling around plants, shooing off stray dogs, and anything that dealt with the general ground maintenance. Jeans and something less restricting would have been what Whitley would have assumed could have passed as acceptable attire. Simply because she was employed by the Gabriel Country Club did not mean she needed to meet the standards of all the plush families who spend too much free time at the club. She did not come from their same background, she was cut out from a different pattern, one that had been very measly and cheap. The least affluent family still had enough loot to send Whitley’s eyes rolling back to be replaced with money signs. By far the wealthiest she had seen come stroll through the security gate, flashing their pass card without even a brief stare towards the guard had been Cael Gabriel. His father had left him to oversee the club that started the whole franchise, a job Whitley presumed he stepped into the highest level of earnest she had ever seen on a wealthy man. Suddenly when he entered the room Whitley was conscious of her standings against the elites, who would pause their activities to greet Cael with lit up faces and warm greetings. Another reminder that this world segregated on social class, clearly drawing the lines to push them apart into two distinct groups.
Not once had she spared a word towards Cael, with his sharp stares and quick words. Levels on the social ladder hadn’t applied to Whitley until she had been in the presence of Gabriel, only near him, never once directing any thought towards him. She couldn’t tell his age, perhaps he was her age, younger maybe, or older and wearing his age very well. He carried himself in the same fashion of his father, all humor removed and an admirable seriousness glazing over his every stride. Whitley had paused the first time when she had seen him, nearly dropping the potting soil because he presented himself as such an enigma. One time he had gazed her way, on a day when strode into the club wearing normal attire to pick up a check, and the look of disgust smeared across his features he gave her had stayed with her for weeks. Rumors couldn’t be the reason for a glance of revulsion because Whitley had kept her reputation immaculate. What it chalked down to in Whitley’s mind was she was dubbed as some commoner, while Cael was on the other side of the spectrum as the prince ready to step into the position of king. They would never appreciate the walk of life one another took, their paths were too far spread to also ever cross and maybe mingle. Cael would never see how Whitley struggled but enjoyed her life. Maybe she was the enigma in the situation.
Exactly what situation was her mind inventing? There should have been no possibilities floating around, because there was not a situation for her to brood over. Her boss was not someone who could relate with her and it was all she could really say about anything. Whitley was the groundskeeper who slaved long hours and received little pay, not a philosopher whose wisdom astounded the masses. Whenever Cael came around she would stare, just a peek to feed her curiosity, then return to her work and lay her thoughts to rest permanently. On this particular day it was around early afternoon, the sun setting comfortably in the sky to shine at its full intensity. Everyone grew cranky at the splash of heat, grumbling about global warming making the climate hotter before scurrying into the air conditioned lobby and restaurant space. Eerie quiet fell upon the landscape, giving Whitley more of a sense of alarm than the serenity she had been silently praying for all morning. She had arrived at work sometime close to six in the morning, disgruntled because Brawley had latched onto her leg, crying obnoxiously until Linette pried him off. He had an ear infection and only wanted his ‘mum’ to care for him. She was tired now and thankful for the quietness, despite the sort of omen it gave off. Her tired feet led her to an empty chair on the back patio, collapsing into the chair with a relieved sigh. |
|
|
|
Post by verbutt on Jan 12, 2012 20:32:54 GMT -5
 The squawking of his alarm clock made him groan, head pounding from last night’s night own with ladies and men of his social status – there was no fiber in his being that desired to do any activity that would amount to being productive this early. It was always a goal to go to the country club early, but he rarely made it there to do what he planned in his head that he would do. He rolled on to his back, eyes squinting at the sun, he hated how his curtains automatically drew away to let the sun burst in. he couldn’t find the remote to make them close shut and after ten minutes of trying to crawl back to slumber, he pinched the bridge of his node before forcing himself up. Hangovers were too much, he needed to learn his tolerance, but he kept drinking himself into oblivion. He was bored with his life and its standing. Overseeing a country club was boring; most of his members were two-faced broads and their money bag husbands. Personally, he didn’t care how their business was doing, but he would nod and pretend he did like he had been taught by his father. He tottered his way out to his bathroom, pressing his iPod dock to play music for his shower. It helped him wake up and the heat of the hot water that hit his shoulders eased him into the day much gentler than the abrasive sunlight ever dreamed of doing. He ran his fingers through his hair, scratched his arm, tilted his head back, and shook himself out before he found himself actually doing any sort of cleaning or grooming. After the shower, he couldn’t bear to have stubble on his face, he was a subject to judge by his members like they were subject for him to judge, so he had to spend more time than any man should preening and grooming until he looked as flawless or perfect, whatever word you preferred, as he could manage. He tossed his towel down the laundry chute for his maid to do later and tottered back to his room in all his naked glory. He wasn’t going to go all out today with anything; it would be a relaxed day and nothing would stop him from that. Nothing and meant it. For his attire, he chose jeans, a black tee, and one of his few leather jackets. Some mornings he would have put a little more care into what he threw on, but his smartphone didn’t have any big, pressing appointments. It was really a day to just wander the ground of the club and inspect, boss people around if need be. Then he could go play golf or swim – something that wasn’t sitting in an office and throwing darts at his hidden dartboard. His seriousness was present in stride and everything he did when he had things to do, but when he didn’t have anything to do, his seriousness dropped when he wasn’t in the company of others. After eating his breakfast: eggs whites, English muffin, low fat butter, orange juice; he got into his sport car and headed toward the town. He lived alone in a small house that his father gave him when he graduated college. It took him about five to ten minutes to get where he needed to be and he enjoyed it like that. He stopped and got a latte before he arrived at the country club. Everything was peaceful, no one had complaints that he could hear. He was smug at the thought that yes, he was right; it would be an easy day after all. With his latte finished and his patrol around the property already finished, it was too early in the afternoon to not do anything, it was too early to go inside despite what his members all seemed to gravitate towards, he decided that his best plan of action would to be to converse with workers. They were equally as important around here, because if they quit then he would have the painstakingly long task of replacing them. He didn’t want to be bothered to do something like that now. His first worker was one that he didn’t remember interviewing at all – the human resources manager must have done that, because he was sure he would have never given her a job here. Cael wasn’t a fan of giving women landscaping labor as a job. It did sound sexist, he knew, but he didn’t understand why they would want to if they could have an easier job. Cael couldn’t recall of the times he had seen her blonde hair bounce around here, but he remembered when he saw her come for a check. She wasn’t a member and she probably didn’t have the best of financial standings, but sue him. He was intrigued and he knew of where he could replace her within the country club that he felt would suit her better. If she wanted to, that was. If she liked being a groundskeeper than she could stay there, but he knew the pay was higher in other places. He found her sitting on the patio, looking a little tired from lugging plants around and odd-jobs, he approached her like he did anyone else. Pride in each step, professionally calm – “Are you sure you don’t have the wrong job? We have other jobs that would suit you much better..” He started, crossing his arms and leaning against the table she sat by. She wasn’t going anywhere until he was finished conversing with her, this was more entertaining than throwing darts. At least if he was going to get angry talking, it would because she provoked him and not because he couldn’t hit the bulls eyes for his life, usually.
words // 970 outfit // here
[/justify] |
|
|
|
Post by WHITLEY DENT on Jan 12, 2012 22:30:45 GMT -5
. Cael was known to frequent the club, popping in randomly to either check on the comfort of the clubbers or briefly speak with some of the club staff. More than not Whitley had always spotted the young man wandering somewhere on the landscape, since most of the action occurred out on the sprawling land which the club covered. In the restaurant and lobby part things always ran smoothly, hardly any situations occurring that needed to have assistance requested directly from a Gabriel. Whitley wasn’t sure what he poked his nose into, she was even sure if he knew in depth the happenings of the club. It was not a doubt of his intelligence or his capability, but more a question of his level of care. He had no reason to fret over the club, there were advisers hired for exactly that his reason and his funds did not depend on the success of the country club. Boredom popped up as the only feasible reason why Cael constantly came into glance over the activity of the club, compared to his father would the club was lucky to get a gracious visit from once a year. The thought of comparing Cael to his father had never surfaced, but it would be intriguing. Only one fault blocked Whitley from delving into a fascinating thought: she knew only the bare minimum of the man who had established her place of employment for the past two years. He was a mystery man, which mattered not to Whitley, as long as she remained in work and properly paid for all of the duties she performed.
She could not tame her thoughts as she sat at the table, pushing away the half eaten plate of gourmet food that had been abandoned for a cooler climate. Cael Gabriel was not permitted as an acceptable thought to race around after her train of thought. His handsome figure with that cheesy (actually handsome, but Whitley was feeling spiteful) leather jacket was invading her thoughts only to boggle up the order she demanded when at work. She was a drone the moment she stepped through the gates of Gabriel Country Club, prepared to fulfill her work without anything causing obstructions that would waste time. None of the other staff members ever associated with Whitley, since she had made it clear from her first day she only wanted to achieve success and not establish relationships. It was not in her usual personality context at all, actually horribly out of character. However, the people floating around in blue polos were not anyone she would wish to contact outside of a work environment. The actual justified reason was that she was only suffering through this occupation as a way to fund living for Brawley and only the tiniest amount of living funds for herself. She was finding her thoughts were completely askew as she sat at the table. Her feet were no longer comfortable in her shoes, which had been worn down from all of the pure effort she put into work. Adidas were not a suitable shoe choice for grounds work, Whitley mentally made a note, reclining back in the chair, thoroughly enjoying the feel of the cushioning of the chairs.
Tiredly she glanced down at herself, calloused hands brushing off soil that had stuck to her shorts from her earlier job of transplanting baby trees around the perimeter of the country club. She could never expect to have her uniform remain spotless with her current position, the ground was dirty and it was what she was working with for the bulk of the time. Upon closer inspection she saw that a tiny tear had begun to form at the hem of her polo. Whitley would have shrugged it off if she knew it wouldn’t be an issue, but that wasn’t the case. Employees were expected to remain spotless and to replace the shirt it cost thirty dollars. A groan sounded from Whitley, one of pure frustration. How could this day have only slid downhill from the early time of six o’clock in the morning? Her head tilted back, welcoming the sun in hopes that she would slightly tan her face with the intense heat. Cael had surprised her, soundlessly arriving at her table and placing himself importantly at the end. She snapped into an alert state immediately, straightly sitting and awkwardly crossing her legs in an attempt to look professional. Something about Cael set Whitley on edge. His words caused her to raise her brow and bite back a laugh. “I’m employed as a groundskeeper, it’s what my entrance card says and everything,” Whitley responded, voice glossed over with confusion. She was ready to reach for her card if he failed to believe her. “Excuse me? There are no other positions available. I’ve checked a million times. So, I am content with where I am currently placed,” she easily tried to explain, looking at Cael with a inquisitive eyes. |
|
|
|
Post by verbutt on Jan 28, 2012 13:57:26 GMT -5
Cael wasn’t a man of words, but then he was a man of words. He spent the bulk of his day when he was on club grounds, wandering and watching the golfers, sometimes taking part in and he would inspect the pools, the tennis courts, and then report anywhere on the grounds he disliked. As of late, he had been rearranging the landscape, changing the plants and upholstery on the seating. Although it was the first country club his father made, as of late the country club looked subpar to their other estates. So that’s why he had been trying hard to revamp it. Now he was considering all new furniture for the club. He did have his father’s answer waiting for him in his office, but he was avoiding going inside. Now, he was talking to someone he was unknowingly making her job harder. He had seen her with pots, but a part of him was hoping she wouldn’t tell him what he already knew. Her answer amused him, a groundskeeper? That’s what she really was and he watched her hand get ready to show him, but he believed her as she was wearing country club apparel – something else he was considering changing to something more flattering instead of polos and khakis. He was baffled at how she handled the rest of her explanation. It was almost embarrassing to be called out on not knowing that there were no other openings in his club. Cael didn’t may as much attention as he could and he felt as if she knew it. If she knew it, then the rest of them had to of known it and now he really had to get his ass in gear. He was the boss of this place and he could start evaluating his employees. He could be doing it right now to her, but he wasn’t. He was trying to seem approachable, but perhaps he wasn’t ready for that. As a man in charge he could make new job openings and there had been complaints that there was not enough housekeeping going around, but he could see that when the one person hired for general housekeeping was a very old woman who went about cleaning at a turtle place. He didn’t have the heart to fire her, but he had enough sense to hire another person on and make her job easier. He had to play this off as he knew there were openings and she didn’t it. In his mind, Cael could see this was the only way to make it seem like he was still authoritative. “Ah, yes. There are no positions “posted.” Yes, you’re right, but there is an opening in house-keeping. I offer it to you in gratitude for all of your hard work as a groundskeeper.” He needed her to take the bait and take the new job, so when he looked to replace her he could replace her with an entire new career at the country club together. “unless you think you would be good at interior and landscape design? We’re looking into remodeling the country club – yes, the murmurings are correct. If you’re up for that job, then I need to see designs of what you would do to the banquet room and the poolside by…. Tomorrow.” He smirked a little too smug with himself. Either she could clean and make possibly a dollar more than she was making now or she could jump feet first into his sidekick renovator. The only problem with that it was temporary and eventually, unless he couldn’t make up another career, she would be without one.
words // 606 outfit // here
[/justify] |
|
|
|
Post by WHITLEY DENT on Feb 2, 2012 19:32:01 GMT -5
. This man should not have pulled at the strings of her curiosity and tugged until she couldn't help but admit that she felt compelled. He was a man of class, something that he would outright admit she lacked in every aspect. Whitley Dent knew she would never be able to come across as suave or strut around in an outfit that cost more than the car (more like dump) that she used as her main mode of transportation. It was better to say that Cael Gabriel came from a world that she would never be able to reach. At the age of twenty two there was no longer a veil that fell over her view to cause her to actually believe that she could reach for something that would forever be out in the distance. He had no way to try and relate to how her life worked and she didn't have the slightest clue what it was like to be able to sprawl out in the lap of luxury. It was better that way, Whitley wanted to believe. He was an intrigue that needed to be avoided and a void between social statuses was the perfect reason to drive herself away from him. Cael was stiff and composed, rich and ambitious, everything that Whitley was not. He should not have sparked her interest, especially since he was now posing as her boss figure.
Why did it seem to her that he was slightly on edge, like he had been caught off guard when it was crucial that he needed to be alert of everything? For a moment she allowed herself to believe that he had been slacking on his dealing with the club and she had, if only for a moment, been more informed than the one who actually ran the Gabriel Country Club. But of course that could not be possible, he was precise and always had the next step of the plan laying out perfectly in his mind. At least that was the way that Whitley had always viewed the man, or maybe she had him seated on a pedestal that was actually built on fallacies. She suddenly felt like it was terribly improper of herself to be lazing back in the chair while Cael was bent over to rest his elbows on the chair, for some reason. She was on her feet in an instant, pushing the chair back and standing as well, tugging down on her blue polo in an attempt to appear more presentable. There was no fooling anyone, Cael looked like the very image of classy with his tousled hair and leather jacket. Whitley just looked like a joke. Normally she never thought twice about comparing herself to anyone else, but Cael made her sharply aware of all of her flaws that contrasted her against his pristine self. Standing side by side she was the hoodlum and he would have been the unassuming preparatory boy. With her upbringing Whitley would never be able to get the one up in any situation.
She was nearly offended when Cael had the brazenness to offer her a position as a cleaning lady. Her dignity would have been drastically hacked into if she turned in her polo to wear the ghastly cleaning uniform of a stiff skirt and button up duo. Whitley couldn't help but scoff at Cael, a reaction that she wouldn't have been able to withhold. Her eyes looked at him, seeming to silently ask whether or not he was cruelly joking with her. "To keep my integrity and honor in tact I am afraid that I am going to very joyfully decline that offer, sir," she said to him, a hint of contempt flaring at the edge of her words. She remained completely respectful but it was obvious that she was injured from what he had offered her. Then at her feet lay a challenge that she was sure Cael was sure she would decline. On her delicate features a wicked smile bloomed that only gained more wattage as she shortly mulled over the idea. Decisively she held her hand out for Cael, a shake that would seal the deal of her accepting his more challenging offer. "I find it insulting that you assume I would take the easy road. Give me this night only and I will return to you tomorrow morning with a design which will leave you impressed," she spoke, the finality in her voice sure to surprise him. Her mind was now set on this choice and Whitley Dent meant business when she had her sights set on something. |
|
|
|
Post by verbutt on Feb 2, 2012 22:56:48 GMT -5
The nerve of this woman to speak to him as if he was degrading her by offering her a cleaning job! Cael knew what all the wages were, he knew what they all made – he signed their paychecks. He knew that she barely made above minimum wage and the wage of his housekeeper was eleven dollars and fifty cents. How could something that easy; cleaning the toilets, dusting, vacuuming, sweeping, and other household chores; is something degrading when she would be making more and working less. He didn’t know it must have been something built into women. It was their pride that got in the way of seeing the benefits of what he offered. He didn’t really understand anything about her breed of woman – an outside to the socialite status. It must be why he was bothering talking to her in the first place. She wasn’t the normal kind of woman he talked to on the day to day. He wanted to like it, a different taste in life, but right now he found it an acidic, bitter taste. He liked things sweet, but her sweetness seemed fake, a lure so to speak. When she said she found it insulting she would take the easy roll, he suppressed his irritated growl. He didn’t care if he insulted her, he could fire her for sassing him and then where would she be? Without a job, that’s for sure. Well, he found an anger flaring up and he knew he would humiliate her somehow if she was humiliating her. Of course, in private, he would never humiliate her publically. However, giving her something he was sure she couldn’t handle was just the job. Then when she failed miserably, he would assign her to the assistant housekeeper to put her in her place. That was right; he was the boss around here. He never felt his testosterone pumping out so bad, the need to make his place clear, and this woman of a lower social and financial class than he was. It was so irritating that she provoked such a response from him. Perhaps buried underneath his selfish pride, he was impressed with her. He hadn’t felt the need to prove himself in months. He hadn’t wanted to put someone in their place and make them realize he was the alpha male. He wanted to know her, but then he didn’t. He wanted her to fail. “Alright, well then you must know what I like. I hope you have a good sensible head on your shoulders and an excellent memory. I like few color schemes: navy and white, forest green and tan, and lastly red and gold. I like dark browns for furniture and wicker, if the color is white. I want it to be classy, not cheap. Flowers should match and bring out the vigor of the club. You can redesign the logo, if you feel daring. I expect you to show me specifically a design for the pool side, the banquet hall, and the entrance to the country club. I want details, I want numbers, and I want a timeline. Preferably if you can manage to overhaul it in the three months I have pinned or less. I’ll be impressed if less. Detail the budget out. I’ll be expecting it tomorrow and I trust, you know where my office. Last of all; don’t forget to put your name on your work. I’m an honorable man – I would never take credit for it. Prove yourself, doll.” Feeling his mark had been made; he left and avoided all employees for the rest of the day.
He didn’t go out drinking the night before, because his father was unexpectedly in town. Cael managed to keep him off the grounds at night and they spent an evening together. They discussed the remodeling, his father was on board – he had been thinking that some of them needed rearranging and remodeling. He announced he was giving Cael a mile to run with and impress him. If it worked, if who he hired and their collaboration worked, Cael would have a new task of travelling around and remodeling each club if needed for the year to come. It was surprising, it was refreshing and Cael wanted nothing more to succeed. He wanted this, he wanted to go. To prove that he wasn’t going to be just a manager and an owner of a business – now he was relying that the foolish ordinary women had something great to show him. Plopping down at his chair, he waited. Although there was no deadline to when she had to bring it in, he wanted it sooner than later so he could review it in private. A small knock on his door he motioned her in. “Well, show me you proposition.”
words // 800 outfit // here
[/justify] |
|
|
|
Post by WHITLEY DENT on Feb 3, 2012 23:20:56 GMT -5
. Whitley would have been completely smug had she been aware that something within Cael had been unsettled because of the way she had so fearlessly spoken. There not a single fear she had in regards to the man who was her boss, Cael Gabriel. He had every power to cut her loose and leave her without a job but some hushed whisper told her that he would not do such a thing. It didn't make any sense that she had an inkling of a thought but every fiber of her being believed that it was a truth. Jobs were scarce but there was some place that would offer a hardworking lady ready to prove her worth a placement at least making minimum wage. Cael had to have seen the very fire that burned in her soul and understood that she was the type of personnel who could prove to be useful later down the road. Either that he would seriously allow himself to enjoy the way she was going to have to try and maneuver her way out of the tight squish of a situation. She was by no means an architect and lacked access to a computer but there was no possibility that she would shut this option out because of a few hardships.
Not once before had she stepped so far out of line when engaged in only a simple conversation. Whitley always kept herself in check, getting by on the basis that others deserved respect and she would only strip them of that privilege if they failed to return it back to her. Cael had not been rude in anyway, he just had the ability to pull on the strings that caused irritation within Whitley. He was clearly indignant and that was the only fault she could detect on his finely etched face. While she could not comprehend the status he lived off of she felt that she could relate in the aspect that they would never be able to muse from the other's standing. Instantly he was marked off as foolish if he fully believed that the requirements he set would scare her off from the preposition that he was laying out before her. Her scuffed shoe tapped against the carefully laid out stones, Whitley almost appearing bored as Cael continued to list the descriptive needs that her layouts would have to incorporate. Lazily she nodded her head, sure to stand up straight and look him directly in the eye once he was through with all of his unnecessary speaking. "You'll have complimenting flowers, wicker, and every detail that you listed. You'll also be sure to see my name neatly signed at the corner of each layout," Whitley curtly said to him, promptly turning on her heel to leave him in the wake of her contempt towards him. Tomorrow he would be highly impressed with all of the poring she did over the plans that failed to form in her mind.
The whole night was used to slave over plans which she were sure did not even make any sense when look at as a whole. All of her energy had been fused in the layouts because she lacked any knowledge that could be proved as useful for the plans that had filled up her whole night. The public library had been her home for the night, blue prints sprawled out in her lab and enough tabs on the browser open to cause the computer to lag. No sleep was granted to Whitley because the efficiency of her planning was what would end up impressing Cael or potentially firing her because she had shown up to be nothing but a failure. When her six layouts had been completed Whitley had trudged out of the library to find that the streets of Sapphire Bay were covered in a thin coating of snow. In her shorts she was inappropriately dressed and needed to waste time changing into attire that was more fitting for the weather. Running on no sleep was not something that Whitley should have ever be reduced to, because a lack of sleep made her more irritable and unbelievably snappy. Whitley threw on the first outfit she deemed snow suitable, kissing Brawley on the forehead quickly and groaning before settling into her junker. She had almost fallen asleep at the wheel, nearly dying for the sake of attempting to impress Cael Gabriel.
Once at Cael's door to his office Whitley gave a weak knock, incapable of mustering up anything more that seemed intense or assured. The truth was that she was far from assured, but God would be damned if Whitley would let on that she was unsure with her plans. Her hair stood a mess underneath her beanie, which she kept on for that very reason. A sheet of paper was held tightly in her grasp, holding all of the details for the timeline and the prices that were listed for each and every detail of the layouts that were tucked underneath her arm. "It's early, I know," Whitley hurriedly said, setting down the six blueprints on his desk, uncaring of the fact that he was looking over something. Her job was complete and that was all that he had asked of her. Niceness was not needed and Cael would not be shown such a thing until he approved of her layouts. Whitley knew little about the fine taste of the fine living but had taken a stab at it anyway. She brushed the snow from her jacket and exhaled deeply, settling down in one of the chairs before Cael's desk. "There is a layout for the general landscape of the club, the poolside, the dining area, the sports facilities, the banquet hall, and the entrance. And right here I have a list of all of the prices for everything included and a timeline of the building process," she rigidly said, handing over the paper so he could glance at it.
|
|
