[Private] Your Desires Are Your Own

Was there something about this whole ordeal that had been particularly triggering, or was it simply the straw that broke the camel's back? Was it opportunistic, or was it the most base level of warnings? Did it really matter in the end?

Archie sought to elevate, to cultivate, to bask in the success that he could lead others too. He was good at it, it was his thing. More often or not he lived his work more than his life. The pressure was always there, but that was the edge where he thrived, not having time dwell on the things that didn’t matter in the moment. Client to client, gig to gig, meeting to meeting - it was like a good beat.

Taking Agrippa aboard? Seemed natural, business as usual. Sure the medium was different. A bit of help was easy to find, it was an investment after all right? He had seen a lot of promise in that initial meeting, both of them had been excited, and then when it all came down to the brass tax Archie had the first draft with the editors notes.

Did I just get Honeydicked?

This was. . . B A D. . .Sure there was the sliver of what could be something, but it wasn’t he had expected or what he had really been promised. He kept tight tabs on socials, on gossip, and just generally spoke with people in the Lost community. There was a very real chance that Agrippa was simply just fucking around and letting Archie blow all of this money.

The problem? Archie had tapped his connections, he had put his name on this, and people were starting to think that Archie was not as good as he was. That he had made a mistake here. That there was no salvaging this project. Take the L, right? Archie had his house in order and wasn’t going to let his reputation suffer. Clint and the editor had combed the notes from a publisher or two to forward to Agrippa. Archie was somewhat hands off the final leg of the race. He was a ball of feelings.

However when all was said and done? It was something. Something that could probably survive out there in the sea of competition and stand on its own legs. It wasn’t a complete failure - but could you call it a success? In the end, Archie understood Dreams weren’t free so he spent.

For Agrippa though? He needed to understand that. . .Dreams aren’t free.

The meeting was after hours, the office was closed, most of the building was dark, but it was a late night for Have A Hart, and thus when finally arriving his client would be able to walk into the office and find their way to the familiar space that was Archie’s office.

The office was thudding with the deep bass of a hip hop track that was playing from the speakers behind the desk. The desk was largely clear, sans for: A large stack of printed and bound papers - the manuscript to the book, A pile of wrapped and crisp twenty dollar bills - at least a few thousand in cash, and back near Archie’s own edge a bottle of Roku gin, with a glass that he had been nursing.

Archie, in a nice white three piece with nice pastel green shirt and striped green and silver bowtie was sitting behind the desk, eyes closed bobbing with the music as he leaned back, hands clasped over his stomach.

Once Agrippa arrived, it was time to get down to business.