The Design(69)

[email protected] - “Security System for Unit #450”

[email protected] - “Summer Internship”

[email protected] - “Recommendation for Cameron Heart”



I clicked a random email in the center of the page and waited for it load as dread began to take hold of me.



To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]



Hey Mike,



I understand that your summer internship program is competitive, but I urge you to reconsider Cameron Heart’s application. She’s more than qualified for the position and she’s a personal family friend.



My firm has a few projects we’re looking to pass on due to our current workload and I think your firm would be a good fit for a lot of these clients.



Let me know if you’re interested in the work, and if you’ll reconsider Cameron Heart for a spot as a summer intern.



Grayson Cole, FAIA

CEO Cole Designs

Principle Architect





My stomach dropped and my hand shook on top of my mouse as I reread the email again. I thought I’d interpreted it wrong the first time, but there was no doubt about it—Grayson had promised work to a design firm in exchange for my selection as a summer intern. I’d ended up interning with that company for three months before my senior year of college… and apparently I had Grayson to thank for that.

Sadly, that email was only the beginning. There were email exchanges between him and my professors, emails between him and my old landlords, emails about an anonymous academic scholarship I’d received throughout my four years in college. He’d even coordinated with the dean of my architecture school, all but promising free design services in exchange for my acceptance into their architecture program. Each email was more incriminating than the last and each one I read made my heart break a little more.

I scoured through them for hours, reading every last one until I couldn’t stomach any more. After reading them, one conclusion was painfully clear: for the last few years, Grayson had effectively played God in my life. I’d been a puppet for him to manipulate however he saw fit. I’d been a doll for him to play with.

I tried to comprehend his reasoning for interfering in my life. I’d had a rough time in high school and hadn’t really found focus until my senior year. At the time, I’d assumed it would take a miracle to get me into the architecture program of my choice… but now I realized it had nothing to do with my talent and everything to do with Grayson pulling strings behind my back.

Every single defining moment I’d lived through in the last five years had been carefully crafted by Grayson. He’d given me unsolicited recommendations, unsolicited scholarships, unsolicited job interviews and internships. He’d even paid for a percentage of my rent in every apartment I’d lived in without me even realizing it. How? Where the hell had my money gone?

Seeing how much I’d unknowingly depended on Grayson for the last five years felt like someone had just ripped the rug out from beneath me. As I sat there in the dark, the glow of the computer screen illuminating my face, I realized that I hadn’t earned a single thing my entire adult life. My designs had never been tested. My talent was nothing compared to the strings Grayson had pulled. Five years of work had been rendered worthless in the matter of hours.

Truth be told, it scared the shit out of me to consider what else Grayson had controlled in my life without my knowledge. Did he read my emails? Did he listen to my phone calls?

Without another thought, I pulled my tennis shoes out of my closet, grabbed my keys and left my apartment. I ran down the stairs as quickly as I could, pushed through the front door, and promptly leaned over and threw up all over some poor shrubs in front of my building.

An older couple walked past me to enter the building and I waved them on as they asked if I needed any help. The last thing I needed was for one more person to help me out. I was sick and tired of being coddled and manipulated. Grayson and Brooklyn wanted to be my heroes, and instead they’d morphed into my worst nightmare.

I wiped my mouth and walked through downtown LA with my arms crossed, my thin t-shirt doing little to protect me from the night chill. I had nowhere to go. Grayson was at my apartment. I had no other family in LA. I’d given up my key to Cole Designs before I’d left the building. I thought briefly of going to a 24-hour coffee shop, but I’d left my wallet in my purse back home.

Without intending to, I walked toward Brooklyn’s condo. It felt like a bit of a copout, to seek refuge in her condo when I was trying desperately to stand on my own two feet, but I reasoned that it was only for one more night.

The bellman, Hank, recognized me and let me in without question, and I rode the elevator up to her luxury condo. I found her spare key hidden under a potted plant beside the door and let myself in. To say that stepping into her condo didn’t feel like home would be a giant lie.

The smell was familiar, and the shoes lingering by the door were ones I’d borrowed dozens of times. I knew where every item of clothing was and where she hid a secret stash of chocolate. The refrigerator was empty since she and Jason were in Montana, so I got myself a glass of water and walked over to her computer desk. I typed in her password and smiled when I saw the picture of us that she kept as her desktop background. I’d put it up as a joke; it was a heinous photo of when we’d tried to put on each other’s makeup with our eyes closed (we get bored late at night).