Page 6 of Conquered

“I don’t wanna say. We’re getting along so well.”

“So I was right. You’re here to spy on me then.” Noelle raised her voice and pushed her chair back.

“Wha-what?” Confusion was written all over his face.

“You work in one of those restaurants and heard that I have a technique for making sauces. That’s the reason you’re sharing all these stories about your sorry life… to get on my good side, anticipating I’ll share my secret with you.” Noelle accused.

Hunter stared like she had gone batshit crazy. Then he doubled over and hooted with laughter. His shoulders shook with unrepressed hilarity as he reached for a glass of water.

“I’m sorry…” he said then rolled with laughter for the second time.

“I’m glad I amuse you.” Noelle declared coldly.

“I’m sorry,” Hunter tried again, drawing deep breaths and struggling for control. “I can’t believe you mistook me for a cook. I can’t boil water even if my life depended on it.” He admitted somberly.

“Oh!” Noelle mumbled suddenly feeling foolish.

“I should hire you as my therapist. I’ve never laughed so hard in my entire life,” Hunter declared.

“Sure. But you’re still paying for that sandwich,” she retorted. “You haven’t answered my question, though. What do you do there?” She insisted.

Hunter smiled and replied, “My full name is Hunter Blackwell. I own the Blackwell Building as well as the companies that are situated inside.”

"You must work really hard to have a building named after you," Noelle answered.

“Not really, the building is an inheritance from my father. I don’t associate myself with much of what goes inside that building. It’s just a job you can say, not my passion” Hunter replied.

“What’s your passion then?” Noelle asked curiously.

Hunter leaned back into his chair, pulled one leg across his knee and fixed his eyes on Noelle.

“Education! That’s my true passion. I want to change the educational system of America. The institution is stuck in the 1800s.”

Noelle’s eyes widened.

“Continue please.” She urged him.

“You sure you want to hear this?” Hunter asked.

Noelle nodded effusively.

“The classroom set-up hasn’t changed much since the 1850s. Students are seated in grids like we’re mentally conditioning young people to work in factories. We condition them to think like a goldfish inside a glass bowl. That’s his whole world. What if we tell that fish it can fly? Can you imagine the potential? That’s what I want to accomplish. Provide young minds with enough conditioning that they realize the limitless potential they possess. That’s my dream.”

Profound silence followed.

“Wow!” Noelle mouthed, truly impressed this time. “You should run for Mayor,” she declared.

“It’s a bit loftier than that I’m afraid. I am running for the senate, or at least I want to IF I get a ticket. But it isn’t as easy as that. Some people think I am unfit for office because of my reputation.”

“That’s unfair,” Noelle contradicted. “I believed everything you said. You’ll get my vote.”

“I should not only hire you as my therapist but also as spokesman. You can talk some sense into those snotty skeletons who think they can run my life.” He muttered indistinctly.

“Sure!” Noelle retorted not hearing clearly as she glanced at the wall clock.

“Look at the time. I’ve been yakking my head off. I’m opening in a few minutes,” she announced in near panic.

Hunter looked disappointed. He grabbed his wallet and removed some bills.