tagCelebrities & Fan FictionCharlie's Angels Ch. 1

Charlie's Angels Ch. 1


The day started out like any other, boring and seemingly endless, I got to the office late, received a dirty look from my boss and felt tired from a late night with too little sleep. The coffee in the office was terrible but I helped myself freely to it anyway hoping the caffeine would revive at least a tenth of my energy and get me through another long day. To make matters worse it was a Monday. Ugh!

I was busy with reports, but was so bored by them and had such a backlog that I was tempted to shove them into the trash bin all morning. I was forced to listen to Rush Limbaugh yelling from the guy’s radio in the cube next to me. From the other side I heard Larry King talking to a radio guest, compliments of my other cube neighbor. I didn’t like either Rush or Larry, but this was cube life at its most humiliating and I had few choices and no power.

Then after the morning was halfway finished I heard the office sweetheart/slut talking with one of the managers in the hall outside my cube. She was trying to ingratiate herself to the boss and finagle another promotion. Good for her, I thought, certain that with a body like hers she would make it. I had been in the de-humanizing world of corporate America for over three years and far from ever being promoted I had just barely managed not to get demoted.

During the last hour of the morning we had a team meeting. Oh god how I hated these! The one hour drug and drug and drug by, my back was hurting by the time I rose up out of the chair, and my right leg had gone to sleep. The meeting was aimed at being a morale booster but I was always amazed at how demoralized the team was when we trudged out of one of these meetings.

When I got back to my cubicle the red light was blinking on my phone telling me I had a message. The growing ulcer in my stomach burned at the sight. This was no doubt another message left by one of my unsatisfied customers wanting to know where their flippin reports were. I could have told them what to do with their reports, but then of course I wouldn’t have had a job any longer. I was fairly low on my savings and my debt was mounting because of the new car I had purchased the year before, so I couldn’t afford to be with out the job. As I picked up the phone to listen to the message I just hoped that the irate customer had not copied my boss on the message.

The message was not from an irate customer. Instead my first impression was that it was worse. The stern voice of an older man informed me that he was an attorney with a big firm downtown and wanted me to call him ASAP. What kind of trouble had I gotten myself into this time I wondered?

I wrote down the number the stern voiced attorney had left and quickly dialed it. A receptionist answered the line and I told her who I was and gave the name of the attorney who had called me. She was polite and told me to hold. I did as I was instructed and felt my palms grow sweaty as I held the phone to my ear.

My boss walked by my cube and I tried to give her my best smile. She frowned back at me and passed. Then the attorney came on the line.

“Mr. Townsend?” asked the attorney. “Mr. Charles Townsend?”

“Yes. That’s me.”

“My name is Max Strickland. I’m a partner with Hart, Hadley, and Strickland. I need to see you in my office as soon as possible, Mr. Townsend.”

“What is this about?”

“It concerns your Uncle Wallace. I’d prefer not to go into any more detail on the phone. I have some time this afternoon at one. Plan on staying for at least an hour, my receptionist will give you directions over to the office. I’ll see you then.”

I stayed on the line long enough to get the directions. I already knew where it was. I worked downtown and could walk about three blocks and be at the front door of the skyscraper the law firm was a tenant of.

I sent my boss an email saying I would be taking lunch from one to two that afternoon. I never got a response back, but my boss never responded to my emails unless I was in trouble, so I assumed it was all right to take the late lunch hour and waited impatiently for the time to arrive. I still had no clue as to what this was all about, but he had mentioned my Uncle Wally so I was not too worried. Uncle Wally was my favorite uncle, and was a cool guy. If he was involved in this somehow it might be all right, and would definitely be interesting.

I got caught on the phone with one of my worst clients five minutes before I was to leave. The client call lasted ten minutes and so this made me late. Nothing was accomplished by the call, the client just got to ball me out. They probably felt better after the call. I felt worse and not too much like going to a law office to spend my whole lunch hour.

I walked the few blocks down from my modest office building, and to the giant skyscraper where Hart, Hadley, and Strickland were located. Entering the building lobby I read the directory and found the firms name listed on the twenty-first through twenty-third floors, and a part of the twenty-fourth floor. The reception area was on the twenty-second floor, and so that’s where I took the elevator.

The reception area was fancy and spoke of money right from your first step off the elevator. Oak wood panels covered the walls, and even the pretty young receptionist had a big desk and a leather chair. She was friendly to me, but only in a polite sort of way. I got the feeling she thought I was an important client. Maybe she wasn’t too smart. Me an important client to someone? That didn’t fit with my image.

I only had about two minutes to wait. I flipped through a magazine in the reception area and sat in one of the over stuffed chairs. Then the attorney I had spoke with on the phone, Mr. Strickland came out and introduced himself.

“Come right this way, Mr. Townsend,” he said as he led me back through the firms offices. Soon we reached a huge conference room with a spectacular view of the city, and I was invited to have a seat at a long formal table. There were about half a dozen people in the room. All wearing expensive suits, and all attorneys, I felt out of place immediately.

An uncomfortable few minutes of silence ensued and there was the rustling of papers across the table as a couple of the attorneys opened brief cases. I realized all eyes were upon me and I looked nervously at the unblemished varnish of the tabletop.

“Can you give us a picture ID, Mr. Townsend?” Strickland asked, and I fumbled in my wallet for my driver’s license. I handed it over to one of the lesser attorneys and he hustled out of the office with it to get a photocopy.

“I need you to sign here,” Strickland said handing me a serious looking document. “I also need a signature on the third page from the last, and initial everywhere I’ve placed a red circle.”

He handed me his personal pen, embossed with his initials. I bent over the pages to start to sign, but then thought better of it. What in the hell was all of this?

“Could I get an explanation as to what this is all about?” I asked.

“Sorry, Mr. Townsend,” Strickland said, and I was surprised how deferential he was to me. “Of course, let me start at the beginning.”

“You said this is about my Uncle Wally?”

“It is,” Strickland answered directly. “Your Uncle Wallace died last Friday night.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“This matter concerns his Last Will and Testament.”

“Uncle Wally remembered me in his Will?”

“Yes. He did. In fact he has left you everything in his Will. You are his sole benefactor.”

The importance of these words, or how they were about to change my life didn’t sink in right away. I sat there and still felt out of place in the elegant conference room surrounded by attorneys.

“We are notarizing your signature now. There are quite a few more papers that I am going to need you to sign. That’s why I told you on the phone this could take an hour or longer.”

You see, my Uncle Wally had been rich. He had started off his own business when he was a young man, and sold it a few years later at a sizable profit. Then in his middle years he had opened a string of mid sized companies. Those were a success as well, and he sold them for a huge profit. Then in his later years he had opened a couple of gigantic international corporations. After selling those when he was a very old man he had become a billionaire.

My family had been proud of all Uncle Wally’s success, but at the same time held him up as the black sheep of the family. He had lived a non-conventional life, and there were conservative elements in my family who despised him. My dad had not talked to him in a number of years.

I had always been very close to Uncle Wally growing up as a boy. He was my favorite relative by far, and not because of his money, because he never shared any of that with the rest of us. He was just a personable guy. Very low key, he never let anything get to him or upset him, and he seemed to have a kind of innate wisdom about him that made you look up to him regardless of his financial standing. I actually respected Uncle Wally, and I have respected few people in my whole life. I was sorry he was dead. I had not seen him since I graduated from college three years before.

The paper signing took over an hour. Actually it took over two hours. My arm was tired, and my right hand had a cramp in it by the time I had initialed the last document. I don’t know exactly what all I had been signing, or why I was required to sign so many different papers. I was just in a daze. While I sat there signing documents I felt genuinely bad that Uncle Wally was dead, and the money aspect of things had not occurred to me yet.

“Now on this last one – we’re going to have to have some discussion before you sign off here,” Strickland told me as I rose up my head from the table and felt the start of a headache. “This concerns a personal matter of you uncle’s. He gave specific instruction of how he wanted you to handle it, but as I informed him before he passed away his instructions on this matter have no legal bearing. You are free to make your own decision.”

“No. That’s all right,” I said. “Whatever instructions my uncle left for me I want to follow through on all of them.”

“That’s commendable of you, Mr. Townsend, but don’t you think you should hear what the matter is before committing yourself?”

“All right, what are we talking about here?”

“Firstly, your uncle’s penthouse condo overlooking Central Park, he owns – owned the building. Now you own the building. He has requested that you take up residence there. Of course you are under no legal obligation to do so.”

“Well the apartment I have now is shit,” I replied. “So I think I’ll do as my uncle wished.”

“Very good,” Strickland continued, overlooking my language. “There are three current occupants of your uncle’s penthouse.”

“Three occupants?”

“Yes. They all are under contract to your uncle’s estate and it will continue to pay them for the next year. At the end of that time you are of course free to discontinue their services.”

“What services did these three people perform for my uncle?” I asked.

Strickland cleared his throat. I was amazed to see the hardened old attorney almost blush. “They were personal relaxation consultants to your uncle.”

“What does that mean?” I was intrigued because I knew my uncles reputation.

“A part of the girl’s contract is that they get to live in the condo free of expense,” Strickland continued, blowing by my question.

“Girls?” I asked and I’m sure my eyes were a little wider as I said this.

“Yes,” he looked rather annoyed with my interruption. “The three girls will be living in the condo for the duration of their contracts. For that reason I thought that perhaps you might want to take up residence at one of your late uncles other properties.”

“I’ll think about it.”

“Now second, your uncle has requested that you keep the girls on in their contracts past the expiration dates. In effect, he would have wanted you to renew their contracts, and he even gave specifics on bonus and the sum of the contract extensions. Again, since these contracts will be expiring shortly, you are under no obligation to follow through with this.”

“I still don’t know what a personal relaxation consultant does,” I said confused.

“Frankly Mr. Townsend, I don’t either,” Strickland said, getting up from the table to wrap things up. “But I suspect you will be finding out shortly. The girls, Jill, Sabrina, and Kelly are all waiting for you in the penthouse as we speak. They expressed quite a lot of interest in meeting you.”

I walked back to the lot where my car was parked. The law office had given me a large folder of legal papers to carry and I hung onto them for dear life since they were worth several hundred million dollars to me. When I got in my new car and realized the twenty thousand I owed on it had been killing me for the last year, the money side of things began to hit me. That’s when I started to feel good. Real good!

I phoned up my boss from my apartment as soon as I got home. She began to yell at me and ask me where I had been all afternoon and why I had not returned to work, and informed me I was in a lot of trouble and would be written up for this infraction. I told her simple and quietly. “I quit,” and I hung up the phone.

Next I opened up a couple of over due notices from my creditors that had come in the mail that day. A few hundred dollars here and there, what difference did that make to me anymore? I tore them up and threw them in the trash.

Then I looked around my little bachelors pad and thought about what I wanted to take with me to my new Central Park penthouse. I use to think this was a pretty happening place, but not now. The whole thing looked rather pathetic to me.

Nothing! I would take nothing with me, I decided then, and walked out of my old apartment for the last time, leaving everything behind and taking only the clothes I wore. Oh and of course the thick legal folder that said I was worth millions.

Getting stuck in rush hour traffic on the way over to my new penthouse gave me a chance to think. What was I going to do with my new life? I was twenty-five-years-old. I had a college degree and a fledgling career as a computer systems engineer, and a job I had just quit. I had no girlfriend, and in fact other than a few times when I had got lucky at college I had never really had a girlfriend. Definitely I had never had a permanent girlfriend. And now here I was worth millions!

By the time I got to the exclusive address of the condo my head was spinning with possibilities. I had almost, but not quite, forgotten about Jill, Sabrina and Kelly, my uncle’s personal relaxation consultants. They would be waiting at the penthouse when I got there. What would they be like? My uncle had always been a man of fine taste. Hum, very interesting.

I parked my car next to a Porsche convertible in the underground lot of the building and took an elevator up to the front lobby. Music was piped into the large and thickly carpeted elevator with me as I took a smooth ride up. A huge mirror behind me allowed me to ensure the part in my hair was good since I was the elevators only occupant.

When I stepped into the big lobby I was overwhelmed with the atmosphere at once. This place was really rich. The lobby itself was about fifty feet high with huge chandeliers hanging from the ornately carved ceiling. Uniformed attendants stood at attention about the art deco lobby, hundred thousand dollar wall pictures hanging behind them.

“Pardon me sir,” I was approached by one of the uniforms, an older man that had a European accent. “I’m the head bellman here. May I be of assistance?”

“Hello,” I tried to be friendly. “My name is Charlie Townsend. My uncle was Wallace Townsend.”

Immediately the demeanor of the guy changed. He was no longer looking down at me. Now he was treating me almost like I use to treat one of the executives at the job I had just quit that afternoon. I’ve never been too sure what groveling looks like but I’d say he did a pretty good job of it right then.

“So sorry, sir,” he said, cracking a smile for the first time. “Allow me to be the first to welcome you to the Fountain Ritz .My name is Cecil. Anything you want, anything at all, and either my staff or I will most gladly assist you.”

“Thank you, Cecil,” I said and shook hands with him. A moment ago he had seemed like such an asshole, and now he seemed like my best friend. Yes, I definitely liked to be rich. “Mr. Strickland told me my uncle wanted me to move into his penthouse here. I thought I would just come over and move in tonight if that’s all right?”

“Why certainly, sir! May I carry your bags up for you?”

“Actually, Cecil, I don’t have any bags. I just would like to get a good look at the penthouse and see what it’s like before I do anything else.”

“Go right on up, sir,” Cecil said leading me across the lobby area to another bank of well-appointed elevators. He punched a button and an elevator door at the head of the hall slid open. “This is the private elevator to the penthouse. It will take you non stop to the fiftieth floor.”

“Floor fifty?” I asked, and was certainly impressed.

Cecil held the door for me and I stepped inside. This elevator had a large window behind instead of a wall and gave me a nice display of the Park beyond the condo.

“Good evening, Mr. Townsend,” Cecil said. He was not coming up with me. “Remember don’t hesitate to give me a call for anything.”

The doors swung shut and my ears began to pop as I was lifted up over five hundred feet into the air and toward my new home. I suddenly felt tense and expectant. I don’t know why. I guess the environment, one that I was definitely unused to, was starting to have its effect on me.

Soon I was lifted up to the penthouse and my ears stopped popping. The doors slid open in front of me. I stood with my eyes agape.

A gorgeous woman with long, curly red hair and a snow white complexion of twenty-four years of age, wearing a tight fitting pant suit that probably cost more than I use to make in a month stood before me. She had a beautiful smile of greeting on her face, and did not seem at all surprised to see me. I unconsciously began to run my eyes up and down her tall and tight body gripped so snugly in the pant outfit, with just a whiff of her white stomach showing under the shirt and above the pant waistline.

“You must be Charlie?”

“Yes,” I answered still staring at this beautiful creature.

“HI, I’m Kelly,” she said. I stuck out my hand to greet her, but she moved fully up to me and gave me a kiss full on the lips. She smelled good, and all though I didn’t really get a chance to feel her at that point I could tell by her press against my body how soft she was. The kiss was not long, but gave me a hint of what was to come.

She hooked her arm under mine and led me into my new home. The elevator closed behind me and was gone for the night. Ahead of me was a huge single space on multiple layers with a tinted window from floor to ceiling surrounding the entire space.

I think the condo was over three thousand square feet. This was enormous! It was arranged like a modern day loft, all one single room, but with little stairs that led up to different levels. There were a total of four different levels. And all of it was out in the open. No walls were in the apartment to afford privacy.

The elevator had come up into the penthouse from the middle of the room. This allowed a full-length floor to ceiling window to surround the loft-like single room. Beyond this gigantic room was what appeared to be a very large outdoor patio. The entire space of the penthouse was filled with soft, romantic rock music. Each of the many sections seemed to have a different theme of furnishings. I even saw what I thought must have been an open shower stall, but the stall itself was larger than my entire apartment use to be in my old life.

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