Read Story: SEASON 1 EPISODE 13
.
Duane sat down slowly, saying nothing in his own defense, though gratitude flickered briefly in his eyes toward Hazel.
His gaze drifted, almost involuntarily, toward Ivory.
She looked away instantly,
Arthur cleared his throat loudly, breaking the tension. “Ivory. I’ve arranged another date for you. Tonight, seven PM, at Le Chateau. His name is Norman Whitfield. Good family, old money, respectable business ties. You will attend, and you will be pleasant.”
Ivory didn’t argue. She simply gave a short, clipped nod and continued eating, though behind her calm expression, a plan was already forming — the same plan she used for every single one of these arranged, unwanted dates her father insisted on setting up.
She’d perfected the art of scaring men away years ago. Tonight would be no different.
Few minutes later, Duane followed Ivory to the carpark. they entered a red Porsche
Once inside the car, the door barely closed, Ivory finally broke the heavy silence between them.
“I’m sorry,” she said, though the word emerged sharp, almost accusatory, more obligation than sincerity. “Though honestly, you should feel somewhat honored. A billionaire threw up on you. Most people would frame that shirt and hang it on a wall.”
Duane didn’t respond, eyes fixed straight ahead on the road.
“Are you seriously not going to say anything?”
Silence.
“Fine. Be difficult, then.” She crossed her arms tightly, staring out the window. “It’s not like I asked you to carry me anyway. You could have just left me there.”
“You were unconscious,” Duane finally said, voice flat and controlled. “I wasn’t going to leave my employer passed out on the floor of a nightclub, Ivory. Whatever you think of me, I’m not that kind of person.”
“You could have called someone else. A cab. Security. Anyone.”
“I did the responsible thing. Forgive me for not letting you choke on your own vomit in the back of some stranger’s taxi.”
Ivory’s face flushed deep red. “Don’t be crude.”
“I’m being honest. There’s a difference, believe it or not.”
“My father slapped you last night because of this whole mess.”
“I noticed. My face noticed too.”
“And you’re not even going to acknowledge how unfair that was?”
Duane’s grip on the steering wheel tightened, knuckles going pale.
“What exactly do you want me to say, Ivory? That it’s fine? Because it’s not fine. It was humiliating, and it hurt, and it was completely unnecessary. But it’s also not something you need to lose sleep over, seeing as you clearly didn’t lose any sleep at all last night.”
“I have a headache the size of Creston City. That absolutely counts as suffering.”
“That’s called a hangover. It’s called consequences for your own choices.”
“Don’t lecture me like I’m a child.”
“Then stop acting like everything that happens to you is someone else’s fault to fix.”
“I never said that.”
“You didn’t have to. It’s in everything you do.”
They argued the entire drive to the office, voices rising and falling, neither willing to concede a single point, the tension simmering hot and constant beneath every sharp, clipped word exchanged between them.
By the time they pulled up to Ivy Fashion Empire, both of them were fuming, and neither said goodbye as Ivory slammed the door behind her.
Ivy Fashion Empire – Lobby – Noon
Beauty leaned casually against the reception desk, twirling a strand of dark hair around one finger as she chatted with Duane, who sat on the plush lobby sofa during his break.
“So,” she said, smiling brightly, “are you free this weekend? I know this great little café not far from here. Quiet. Good coffee. We could actually talk without you being on the clock.”
“Maybe,” Duane said, only half paying attention, his mind clearly elsewhere. “I’ll let you know.”
“You always say that.”
“I mean it this time. Promise.”
She laughed softly and eventually wandered off toward the elevator when her break ended, leaving Duane alone with his thoughts once again.
His mind drifted, as it often did in quiet moments, to his family. To Luis, probably walking to school right now in shoes with soles worn thin. To his mother, still carrying whatever new bruises Ron and Maeve had left on her the last time she’d gone to work. He needed a phone — even a cheap one, something basic, just enough to call home, to check in, to make sure everyone was still okay.
His first paycheck wasn’t due for another week yet, and pride alone wouldn’t feed anyone.
He glanced toward the elevator, weighing the humiliation of asking against the necessity of the call.
Might as well get it over with.
Ivory’s Office
Duane knocked once, perfunctorily, and walked in without waiting for a response.
Ivory looked up from her desk, irritation flashing immediately across her face. “Do you not understand the concept of waiting for permission before entering a room?”
“I need to use a phone. Just for a minute.”
“Why? Don’t you own one?”
“If I owned one, I wouldn’t be standing here asking you, would I?”
Ivory smirked, leaning back slowly in her chair, clearly enjoying this shift in power. “Right, of course. A broke ass like you probably can’t even afford a decent phone. How tragic. How truly heartbreaking.”
“At least I know what real struggle actually feels like,” Duane said evenly, not missing a beat. “You wouldn’t survive twenty-four hours without a credit card glued to your hand.”
“Excuse me?” Ivory’s eyebrows shot up.
“You heard exactly what I said.”
Her eyes narrowed dangerously, though something almost like reluctant amusement flickered beneath the irritation. She waved a dismissive hand toward a drawer near the window. “Fine. There. Take one of those. I have plenty to spare, unlike you apparently.”
Duane crossed the room and pulled open the drawer. Inside sat at least half a dozen phones, the latest models, barely used, a few still sealed in their original plastic wrapping.
“You just… have these lying around? Untouched?”
“I upgrade every few months. I never bother selling the old ones. Seems like a waste of time for something so trivial.”
He picked one up, powered it on, and dialed his mother’s number from memory.
Ivory watched him from her desk, arms crossed tightly. “I honestly wonder what kind of woman would willingly date someone as unattractive as you.”
Duane didn’t even glance up from the phone. “I wonder what kind of man would voluntarily put up with someone as insufferable as you.”
Ivory’s mouth fell open in genuine shock. “Excuse me?!”
“You heard exactly what I said too.”
The call connected before she could fire back a response. Celeste’s voice came through, warm and immediately relieved. “Duane? Baby, is this you?”
“Yeah, Mama, it’s me. I’m borrowing a phone from work. Just wanted to check in, make sure you and Luis are doing okay.”
“We’re fine, sweetheart. More than fine, actually. Something wonderful happened, I have to tell you—”
“I’ll call you again soon, okay? I have to get back to work now, I don’t want to hold up someone else’s phone too long.”
He ended the call gently and set the device back down on her desk without another word, then turned and walked straight out of the office.
Ivory glared at the closed door for a long moment after he’d left, arms still crossed, jaw tight.
“The absolute nerve of that man,” she muttered under her breath, though there was no real venom left in the words by the time they left her mouth.
{{comment.anon_name ?? comment.full_name}}
{{timeAgo(comment.date_added)}}
{{comment.body}}
{{subComment.anon_name ?? subComment.full_name}}
{{timeAgo(subComment.date_added)}}
{{subComment.body}}