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In the End
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| Disclaimer: I am in no way affiliated with NBC, Passions,
or Outpost Farms. I do not own any characters that are on the show. This is strictly for entertainment purposes
and the authors are not making any profit. So don't sue me! |
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In the End
by Shuis112
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Chapter 3
"Come on, Theresa. Hurry up! It's almost 6!"
Whitney Russell waited impatiently for her best friend to finish going through this week's fashion magazines. She
set her shopping bags down and sighed. A girl of African-American descent, she had a clear complexion and her black
hair was set in short, bouncy, curls. She was also very punctual and hated to be late for anything.
"Hold on, Whit. I'm almost done. Besides, we have plenty of time to get ready for dinner at Mama's house.
" Theresa assured.
Whitney looked at her with a confused expression on her face. "Dinner?" she asked.
"Well, yeah. Didn't I tell you? Mama's inviting everyone over for dinner tonight." Whitney stared at
Theresa with a blank face. "Ok, I guess it slipped my mind. But you can still come, right?"
"I don't know, Theresa, I did have a date with Chad tonight-"
"Tell him you'll go out some other time and invite him over tonight." Theresa interrupted.
Whitney looked into Theresa's excited brown eyes and gave up. There was no use arguing with her when she got
like this. "All right, Theresa, I'll call him and ask him if he wants to come over. Are you sure your mom
won't mind I'm bringing an extra guest?"
"Of course not, Whit. The more the merrier, and besides, she likes Chad. Here, use my cell phone."
"Thanks, Theresa." Whitney said. "I'll be right back." Theresa watched her friend run off
to call her boyfriend. "Some day, those two are going to get married. Just like Ethan and I did." She
smiled at this thought. The attractive young Latin woman then brushed her long black hair over her shoulders and
continued to flip through the new fashion magazines, occasionally stopping to admire another fellow fashion designer's
work.
A young man wearing a black polo shirt sat behind a large marble desk. The nameplate in front of him read "Mr.
C. Harris" with the letters engraved in gold. Chad Harris eased into his chair, and closed his eyes while
he heard the new group's demo tape. Music floated out of the speakers and filled the room. "Not bad,"
he said, smiling. They reminded him of him when he was just starting out. There was so much feeling behind the
lyrics; they weren't just mouthing the words. Chad sat up and paged his secretary. "Doris, would you please
call the group that just sent their demo tape in and tell them I'd like to see them next week? I liked their music,
but tell them not to get their hopes up too high."
"Will do, Mr. Harris," his secretary answered. "Oh, and Whitney Russell called. Should I tell
her you're busy?"
"No, put her through, I'll talk to her. Oh, and Doris?"
"Yes sir?" Doris asked.
"Call me Chad, will you? I would really appreciate it if could call me by my first name," he requested.
"Yes sir, um, Chad."
"Thanks. You can put Miss Russell through now." Chad picked up the phone and switched onto the second
line. "Whitney?"
"Gee, Chad. It took so long to get you on the phone, Theresa's battery on her cell phone almost ran out,"
Whitney teased. "But I guess I'm going to have to start getting used to that, now that you're a famous record
producer."
"Very funny, Whit. So, our date is still on tonight, right? You haven't called to cancel?" Chad asked
anxiously.
"Well, not exactly," Whitney started. She explained the situation and waited for Chad's answer.
"Of course I don't mind, Whitney. I'll go anywhere as long as you'll be there with me. Besides, I haven't
seen Ethan in a while. It'll be nice to talk to him again." Chad answered, his brown eyes twinkling.
"Great!" said Whitney, glad she could still keep her date. "I'll go tell Theresa. See you at the
Lopez-Fitzgeralds'." She hung up and ran back to Theresa, who was still flipping through magazines. "Chad
said he'd be there, Theresa. Now are we going to get ready, or just stand here?" Whitney asked impatiently.
"Whitney, we have plenty of time!" exclaimed Theresa.
"Have you seen the weather? It's going to take us twice as long to get to your house, and then to your mother's
house. Just buy the magazines. I mean, you are the wife of one of the richest guys in town." She waited for
Theresa's reaction, knowing she didn't like to be referred to as "rich".
"Alright, Whitney. We'll go now under one condition," said Theresa, somewhat annoyed. "Lay off
the 'wealthy' adjectives."
"No problem. I only did that to get your attention." Both young women laughed before picking up their
shopping bags and rushing out of the mall. |
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