"Honestly, Brent, it's a really good idea!" Maisie defended over breakfast. "No, Maisie, I see no good in this idea, you're literally going to try and make me mad on purpose, that's really just stupid," retorted Brent. "No, listen. Today at lunch we'll stay in your office. We'll find a topic that we don't agree on and we'll keep talking about it until you get all loud and angry and then we'll work you down from there. It's like controlled experiment in a safe environment." "Maisie, honestly, I don't think that's a good plan, though, if it shuts you up, we'll do it." With a sense of triumph, and a little twinge of hurt, Maisie put her empty plate in the sink and left to go wait for Brent in the car, ready to start her first full day.

Moments later she was joined by Brent and they pulled off seconds after he closed his door. Seeing as they weren't really on friendly-conversation terms and they had already discussed their plans in terms of work for the day, the entire ride to his building was silent, Brent and Maisie both just staring out the windows pretending to be interested by the roads they had come so familiar with. When they had finally reached the twenty story building in which they both, now, worked, Maisie got out of the car to follow Brent into the building and into the elevator to the office. She couldn't help but notice the amount of superiority with which he carried himself, with no consideration to the feelings of others or how rude it looked when he never bothered to mutter a simple 'thanks' or 'morning' to those that would talk to him. Maybe it was just the way New York had shaped him or maybe it was her southern roots taking charged but Maisie found it unbelievably impolite and would make it a point to remind him of it. Not that she was hired to correct him on how he did everything, but she figured that she may as well kill two birds with one stone, right?

"You know," began Masie, when they were finally within the walls of his office and free of nosey onlookers, "it's rather ill-mannered of you to ignore everybody like you do. It takes so little effort to thank them or to respond to them when they tell you good morning, or ask how you are." "Weren't you just telling me last night that I had good manners?" Brent asked, with a small breath of exasperation. "Well, it is quite possible that I spoke out of turn, or maybe you only have manners when you feel like it. If I were back home and acted like that, I'd have everybody telling me to brush that chip off my shoulder." "Well, guess what, Maisie," started Brent, putting emphasis on her name, and already with his usual tone of arrogance, "We're not where you come from, if you haven't noticed. We're in New York City and if you think that, even for a second, walking around and being nice and cheery to everybody will make them respect you, then you've got it all wrong!" "See, that's where you've got it all wrong, Brent," Maisie stated with her calm tone, "you can't make people respect you, you've got to earn it. And, quite frankly, you wouldn't have earned a lick of my respect with the way you handle things. Also, I still think you should brush that chip off your shoulder." Adding a smirk to the end of her sentence, Maisie sat down in her desk chair and began writing down in the notebook she started last night, while absentmindedly doodling in the margins.

....

"Are you sure that you'd still like to go along with this whole plan of yours, Maisie?" Brent asked as they sat across each other at his large oak desk, their food pushed to the side. "I am as positive as I've ever been, Brent. Now, what are some topics that you feel passionate about?" "I dunno, football?" "Well, seeing as I don't watch football, that's not going to help us out here. Maybe I'll just keep asking you things until I see that one of things I've said has irritated you." "Honestly, Maisie, where did you get your degree from?" "You know, this could either mean that I'm unbelievably brave or insanely stupid and I guess we'll have an answer by the time lunch is over," Maisie said with a small laugh at the end. Then Brent set out in a laugh so unfamiliar to Maisie that all she wanted to do was hear it again, and she realized that she thought that was the first time she had ever heard such a sound come out of him. Even though they had barely known each other for 24 hours, Maisie laughed all the time and just assumed that he did too.

"Okay, tell me, Brent, why do you think that you're better than everybody in this building? Why do you think that you have to scare the respect out of them?" Maisie figured she might as well go big on the first question, which seemed to work. "Is that seriously even a question that I should waste my time answering?" Brent asked with such an incredulous and insulting tone, "I don't think that I'm better than everybody in this building, I know it. I mean, look at their paychecks and then look at mine, that should give you every answer you need." "Quite frankly, Brent, the amount of money on your paycheck doesn't mean a thing. Your front desk receptionist for example, she just took in her two nieces and can barely afford to feed herself. Now, I would be willing to bet that I make more money than she does but I can honestly say that I only aspire to be as good as a person as she is. Just because I make more money doesn't mean that I'm better than her." When Brent didn't respond, Maisie decided to egg him on farther, determined to get him at his peak of anger, "You make more money than anybody in America but would you take a starving man off of the streets? You can surely afford it but you just simply can't be bothered, I don't necessarily think that that really makes you such a great person. In reality, are you truly better than anybody else in this whole building?" Brent gave a huff and grunted while standing up, anger clear in his eyes. "Go ahead, Brent," Maisie started, her voice the calmest thing that Brent had ever heard, "scream at me if you'd like, what I said had to have angered you. You can even throw things against the wall. But, before you do, tell me what you'd get out of it." Turning around with a look of confusion Brent asked, "What did you just say to me? Did you literally just give me permission to go ballistic on you?" "Yeah, I think I did. But I also told you to tell me what you would get from doing it, first." "Isn't it obvious? It just makes me feel better." "But does it actually make you feel better? I mean, think about it. Either you're going to make a big mess that somebody is going to have to clean up or you're going to end up with a guilty conscience, that is assuming you have one," Maisie continued, "how about you try sitting down and discussing this like a grown adult."

After a few moments of silence and heavy breathing that come from Brent, he finally obliged and flopped himself back in his chair. Looking up to Maisie he spoke, "How did you find something to make me mad on the first try?" "It was essentially the same topic that got you angry this morning. But tell me why it makes you so angry so fast? It's such a simple topic to talk about." When Brent still decided not to answer but rather stare down at his hands, Maisie took another big leap of either stupidity or bravery, "Did you get compared a lot to your brother?" Catching his attention rather quickly Brent shot his head up asking, "How did you know I had a brother?" "The meeting I had for this job was at your mother's house. I didn't know for sure but I saw quite a lot of photos of you and somebody that looked just like you. I only assumed he was your brother until you just confirmed it for me. So, tell me, is he nearly as successful as you?" "Well, he owns a few hotel chains and is successful but nowhere near me, anymore." "Anymore? Did he used to always be better than you?" "You know what? I don't feel like talking about this anymore." "Well, sorry, bud, but I'm here for a reason and I'm just trying to do my job. Was your brother always better than you?" "Will you ever let this go if I don't answer you, Maisie?" "Nope, it's honestly in your best interest to go ahead and tell me now." "Yes. Yes, he has always made more money than me up until recently. I mean, obviously, I make more than him now, but before this , he has always made more than I have and almost nothing has bothered me more." "Does he have a family?" "Yeah, he does. He got married about five years ago and has to daughters. Why does that really matter?" "I mean, I guess it doesn't, I was only just wondering. Anyways, do you really only think that he was better than you because he made the most money? You can't actually be serious." "Well, yeah. The more money you have, the more people respect you, and the more people respect you, the more power you hold." "I hate to break it to you, Brent, but that can't be any further from the truth. Think about what I said about your receptionist. Paychecks don't play a role in how good of a person you are." "Well, I guess that's just something we don't agree on, now isn't it?" "You're right, it is. And, I'd like to point out that nothing was broken and nobody was screaming and did you see what happened? No energy was lost through over exaggerating and we just settled an argument, by simply agreeing to disagree, and it wasn't that hard, was it?" "Honestly, it took all the strength I had in me and if this wasn't your job, I would've kicked you out and made it impossible for you to be hired by anybody else, but we'll take it in baby steps." "Right," Maisie agreed, "baby steps."

....

After a very awkward and silent dinner, just as they were about to part ways for the night and bid each other off until morning, Maisie turned on her heel and finally spoke up, "Um, I just wanted to point out a couple things from today, if that's okay." Brent simply nodded his head as a way of granting her permission. "Well, first off, I'm still semi-proud of the way you handled our discussion earlier. I mean, it could have been a lot better but it was something. Uh, secondly," Maisie continued, feeling odd for paying him a complement and already feeling weird for what she was about to continue to say, "can we please just forget about the fact that I called you 'bud' today? That was just a super strange thing to call your boss's son." Shaking his head and laughing, yet again, he promised, "Yeah, it was like it never happened, I swear." Just before she reached the door, Maisie spoke up once more, "You know, you should do that more often." "Do what, forget what you say?" "No, Brent, laugh. You really should laugh more often, you don't do it nearly enough for somebody who seems like they have so much to be happy about." "Well, that's the thing, Maisie, after you spend a few months on this job you'll soon realize that I really don't have that much to be happy about. But, nonetheless, I'll take the complement anyways, so, thank you, I assume I'll see you in the morning for breakfast?" "Yep, you will. Night, Brent." "Goodnight, Maisie," Brent finished, walking to the door to shut it behind her.

As she walked through the courtyard to reach her new house, Maisie had finally decided that Brent Daniel Hollier was, by far, the most confusing man she had ever laid eyes on. Just as soon as he seemed to make progress, even for one split second, he turns around and undoes everything he had just worked for, almost as if he was afraid of any sort of change. Yet again, for the second time in the past two days, Maisie let a boy keep her up late at night, allowing him and the events of the day to run around her mind until sleep finally consumed her.