Violet Samara Garnier
Style- Very eclectic. Loves whatever floats her boat.
Icon- Lauren Hutton, Faye Dunaway in Bonnie and Clyde.
Music- Eve 6, Modest Mouse, Radiohead, LFO
Food- Indian, and Italian.
Background- military brat, Family lived in Italy for 15 years, then they moved to Kansas. She lived there for one year after deciding she wanted to go to Ny like in the movies. Loves Baseball and Bball.
Model- Ashley Brown
Internship- Department of Investigation
I grab my purse and straighten my suit, heading up the stairs quickly. They told us during orientation that the elevators were reserved for “Important People Only,” which, it turns out, does not include us interns. Sighing, I shift awkwardly. The suit isn’t mine – I borrowed it from some girl in my dorm – and neither are the coffees. I wish I’d thought of having caffeine a little before now, but it turns out that I’m just stupid that way.
By the time I get up to the top, I’m practically falling over. The coffees haven’t spilled much, though, so I’m willing to call it a successful trip. One of the lattes’ tops is foaming over. Back turned to the offices, I lick the foam off. My hands are full, anyways, and it’s not like the directors will ever know.
“Nice,” a voice says from behind me. Whirling around suddenly, I break my non-spillage record. Something drips onto my tights and down into the toes of my shoes. In front of me is a guy, probably only a little older than me. He has tousled brown hair and looks like he woke up five or ten minutes ago. His shirt isn’t even buttoned right.
When I don’t speak, he holds out his hand for me to shake. “Nico Chase,” he says. “Nice to meet you.” When I don’t say anything, he says, “You must be mute, then.” I still don’t talk, and he laughs awkwardly.
Finally, I open my mouth. “I’m Violet. Violet Garnier. But my middle name is Samara,” I blurt.
Nico grins. “You mean like that creepy chick in The Ring?”
Everyone always says that. I’ve never understood my parents’ motivation to choose that name, but whatever. I don’t usually share it, but obviously being around Nico means that there is little or no filter between my brain and my mouth. I’ve always been kind of socially awkward around boys – that’s what happens when you grow up moving around all the time and never making friends – but I’m getting better.
“Um, yes,” I say finally, realizing I’ve taken too long with my answer. Nico snorts a little. It seems like he’s about to say something else, but we’re both interrupted by a shout from the director’s office.
“Shoot,” I say, looking down at the dripping latte. “This was for…”
“Yeah, before you contaminated it.”
“Shut up, Nico. This isn’t funny. I gotta go.” I don’t even bother to wave. He’s made me late – and so early in my internship. In other words, I’m kind of screwed.
“See ya later!” he calls cavalierly. “You’ll want my number.”
“Fat chance,” I mutter under my breath, frowning at the dripping coffee. I’ve dabbed up the drips as best as I can with a napkin, but it still looks a little…used. I catch a glimpse of coffee drips on my official DOI pass. Sighing, I dab them off, too. It still looks official, but who knows how long I’ll have it?
Dashing into Director Brown’s office, I say, “Here’s your latte.”
The woman doesn’t even look up. She just holds out her hand for the coffee. Of course, I stand there like an idiot before finally relinquishing her not-so-hot drink. Before she can take a sip, I’m out of the office, delivering the rest of the drinks.
“I have a document messengered in for the director!” Josh, the security guard, waves at me as I pass by. My heels are clicking on the linoleum floor faster every time I go by. It pisses me off, and I’d love to just take ‘em off and hurl them into a lake somewhere, but I like ducks too much to do that. And my internship. I like that a lot, too.
On the staircase with the envelope, I realize that I’m out of the way of any security cameras. Carefully, I hold the envelope up to the light. Can’t see through it. Guess I better open it. What if there were something dangerous inside? Can’t let the director get killed.
Quickly, I paw through the contents. There’s a letter that appears to have been written by a typewriter. Then, there are two photographs.
I read the letter quickly. The messy handwriting doesn’t help, but I manage to understand it well enough.
Dear Director Brown,
I remember what you did.
Please take this as some advice from me.
I am watching.
I’ll be coming for you.
The signature is nearly illegible, but I manage to make out the letter “K.” It’s signed “BAK.”
Big Apple Killer.
Only the biggest serial killer in ages. His name is all over the news. And what does he want? He wants to kill my boss.
I could give the letter to her.
But maybe I’ll do a little investigating of my own first.
I bet @oscar-wilde will be happy to see that I've finally got a BAI set up.