PART I

the giver

that's what I am

I give and give yet receive nothing

whether it's giving my body to my mother

giving my heart to my partner

giving my mind to my job

i give until there is nothing left of me

i am left with nothing

and those I had given to

see the flaws of my gifts

see them as thrift instead of gold

is who I am cheap to you?

i am leslie king!

but what weight does that name carry

besides the weight of my body my mother said I had too much of

the weight of my heart when he made it heavy

the weight of my brain when work became too much

i give and give

but when will I receive?

*******

I, Leslie Muireall King, after years of being so blind and so naive to the truth in front of me, have finally seen the light.

Not in terms of the light you see when you die, or a light in terms of an innovative idea or thought. No, more of a "spiritual" or "personal" sense of discovery.

After a year with my loyal and successful boyfriend, Hudson Maximus Bradford...the third, to be exact, I have finally caught him in the act to counter argue the loyalty I so liked to believe was part of his nature.

And out of all instances to catch him in said act, it had to be at the Harrison Incorporated charity function...for Leukemia awareness.

And as I now sit, lonely, unable to process the events that have occurred just one mere hour ago, everything else seems to make sense. However, my boyfriend, now ex—boyfriend, Hudson, cheating on me with my assistant, now former assistant, Alejandra, is still something I refuse to believe actually happened.

But one thing that I am certain I can truly understand now, is that I have wasted my life away. A 27—year—old, intelligent, effectual publicist to the revered and also feared billionaire, Garrett Harrison of Harrison Inc., and I have wasted my life away. And this, is the light I am talking about. The light I finally see.

Some—well, most may argue that I have a lot to show for in my life. I attended Berkeley University in San Francisco, California as I was a seventeen—year—old straight—A student, eager to rid myself of my mother and her loveless clutches. I majored in business, minored in photography for something fun to do, and had my head in my books, hand in the air in the front row in all of my classes, and graduated, top of my class. My father convinced me persistently that I was the family jewel after the ceremony, since my mother, in her most caring motherly way, told me that I could have majored in something more useful. All before leaving with my little sister, Samantha, to attend a party in Malibu. Which still confuses me, since my mother coerced me constantly about doing something useful in life that would bring me success. I wish she would have informed me that "business" wasn't what she was referring to before I majored in it.

Still, I pressed on, unfortunately being forced to publicize the rap group "Cookie Monsterz" as my first real clientele job at the PR firm that hired me. But because of me, they are shockingly and sadly one of the most popular rap groups out right now for teenagers and young adults. Of course, their current publicist must take credit for my work that got them to the top years before he was hired.

From there, I had Jennifer Eaton as a client, who is now the leading role in the TV show "Redbirds" that has won two Emmy's, one for best drama, as of last year. And it all started with the interview I forced her to go to with Cosmopolitan, the magazine I despise the most.

After her was Paloma Lewinski, now Victoria's Secret ANGEL, Oliver O'Finnley, now teen girl heart—throb on Disney Channel, and countless others after him. One day, I received an email from billionaire entrepreneur, Garrett Harrison's assistant, Lucinda Chapman, about his interest in myself being his personal publicist, monthly paycheck and all. I said yes faster than I ran for the Los Angeles Metro Bus in the morning at the time.

Two and a half years later, I never looked back. It was a dream come true to be able to become the publicist for the CEO of one of the world's leading corporations, Harrison Inc., not to mention have my own office as opposed to working in a hot, cramped firm that smelled like hot dogs from 4:00 to 5:00 in the afternoon, mysteriously.

Life at the time was great. I met Hudson at a press conference and thought he was the man of my dreams. I hired two assistants myself, received raises left and right for my unmatched publication skills, and managed to earn an unparalleled amount of respect in the business sector of the media world. Everything was on track—pristine and organized, just the way I liked it. Just the way it was meant to be.

However, it's as if God is mocking me. Mocking me, or trying to make me see that my life has actually amounted to nothing. Zip. Zilch. Absolute shit...and a sad amount of Netflix.

After my second assistant, the young and timid yet oh—so reliable, Darcy Delgado sniffed out the suspicious feeling we both had and found Alejandra and Hudson in his car doing a quickie, I had immediately known that something, or someone was out to get me. Why? Because it didn't make sense. Hudson and I were perfect. Our lives were in sync, we had routines, we incorporated our work lives into our social lives perfectly and he openly followed my routinely lifestyle that I have lived since I was old enough to speak. Standing there in that parking lot as Hudson stumbled out of his BMW with his slacks slipping off his hips and his face smothered in Alejandra's red lipstick made me feel like a complete idiot.

Still, I went back inside, hid my anger, and spoke with a few reporters as if I never even saw my boyfriend screwing my assistant. Or my assistant screwing my boyfriend. Either way, I despised them both. I despise them both.