A moan was the only intelligible answer... and the only one he knew would be forthcoming until her body was once again under control, and she was out of the bathroom. He hated seeing her like this. They had been roommates for the past two years now. Neither of them consistently earned enough to comfortably live on their own. With Daphne, it was a constant struggle finding odd freelance writing jobs as she paid her way through school. She was fortunate enough to be on a good scholarship, but that didn't pay for everything. He had graduated from art school a few weeks ago, but still hadn't secured a permanent position in an agency. In a way, he found that to be a blessing.. although not financially. His creativity had suffered as an intern during his final year. Being an independent artist was his ultimate goal. Pandering to the wishes of a client that didn't understand the meaning of art was less than inspiring to him.

Slowly, Daphne moved into the room, mindful to take the seat the farthest from her roommate. She wrapped a fluffy blanket around herself as shivers coursed through her. After a barrage of moans, she weakly announced, "I'm dying, Justin. I won't live to see my graduation."

Rolling his eyes, Justin reminded her, "You've got the flu, Daph. In a day or two, you'll be just fine."

Daphne's eyes widened as she looked at her best friend. "Fine? I'll never be fine again..."

"Typical writer - overly dramatic as usual..." Justin chided.

"Are you kidding me, Jus? I've got the interview of a lifetime set for tomorrow morning. Clearly, I won't be able to go now. I think that makes me sicker than this wretched flu bug does!"

Justin gasped. He'd forgotten all about that. She had secured an exclusive interview for the school paper with the infamous, billionaire tycoon, Brian Kinney... owner of Kinney Enterprises. Not only did he rarely grant interviews, but it was also an assignment for the school paper. If Daphne did well with the interview, and follow-up article, she would most likely graduate with honors... leading up to a full-time position with a respectable newspaper. Nowadays, getting anything other than freelance was difficult to do. This was the opportunity of a lifetime. "Damn, that sucks, Daph. I had forgotten all about your interview."

"I wish I could forget..." Daphne moaned, her body hunching up as physical discomfort, as well as mental anguish overtook her once again. "I worked so hard to get that interview. Rescheduling isn't an option. I can't believe this shit had to happen to me now!"

"Are you really sure he won't reschedule? I- I mean... under the circumstances?"

"Absolutely not!" Daphne adamantly replied. Rocking back and forth in her chair as the nausea cramps fully returned, she brokenly continued, "I- I couldn't ask it of him. His secretary was nice enough, but I could tell she was getting annoyed by my constant attempts. When she finally got him to agree, she just wanted to see the back of me. I can't ask him to change it now. I'll just have to cancel tomorrow, and fail the assignment..."

Shaking his head, Justin told her, "No, you can't! That assignment can assure you of a promising start in your journalism career. There has to be another way..."

Snorting, Daphne answered, "I don't have a twin... so, I'd say there isn't. What sucks is that I had all of my questions prepared. I just needed to ask them, and record his responses." With her face suddenly paling anew, she ran from her seat and back into the bathroom, the virus that plagued her unrelenting in its disruptive force.

Justin sighed in sympathy for her plight. He'd had the flu on numerous occasions. It was never pleasant, but some cases were completely incapacitating. Daphne definitely had one of those versions. As Daphne finished her most recent bout of retching, Justin replayed their conversation in his mind, unable to resist toying with a certain idea, although uncertain of how well it would work.

After washing her hands, and brushing her teeth once again, Daphne returned to the small living room, collapsing onto her chair without any pretense of grace. "God, Jus... I just want to die already."

"The worst should be past you soon, Daph. And I might have a solution for your problem. At least, one that will salvage what you've worked so hard to accomplish..."

Eyeing her friend warily, Daphne asked him, "Which problem might that be?"

"The one regarding your interview tomorrow..."

"I can't see how you can do anything about that." Daphne looked at Justin as if completely befuddled, seemingly having no clue as to where this discussion was heading.

Justin smirked. "Well... I know I'm not a journalist - not even close; however, I think I can manage to recite your questions and take the appropriate notes and operate a recording device..."

"Hold on a minute... are you offering to impersonate me in a meeting? That would never work, Justin. They would know you aren't me right away. And from what I've heard about Brian Kinney, well, he'd chew you up like the most tenderized of meat if you even attempted to deceive him..."

"I didn't say I would pretend to be you." Justin gestured down to himself, silently stating himself to be a male in all possible ways. "It's obvious I am not a girl. But I don't think there's a rule saying that a budding journalist can't have a helper. I'm sure such substitutions happen all the time."

"Perhaps so. Although, I doubt they do when granted an audience with the reclusive Brian Kinney." Daphne yawned, relieved to find her stomach slightly settled - at least for the moment, knowing that could only be temporary. At the moment, though, sleep was the only thing she wanted. Hesitant for many reasons, yet so very grateful, Daphne told him, "I appreciate what you're wanting to do. I couldn't have a better friend. I'm just not sure it will work."

Justin shrugged. "It's up to you - either way. I think it could work. Like you said, you have all the questions written out. All I have to do is read them, and return back here with his recorded answers. If he doesn't want to speak to me, well, there's nothing I can do about that, but not trying seems ridiculous to me."

"Okay..." Daphne conceded, her face drawn tight as she focused on Justin's words, barely able to hold off the fatigue that had her body demanding immediate rest. "Everything is on my desk. The appointment is at eleven o'clock tomorrow morning. Please, don't be late."

"I won't let you down, Daph. I promise you that." Justin smiled reassuringly at his best friend as he watched her stumble to her bedroom, hoping that his gesture would give her some peace of mind. There was no guarantee that the infamous Brian Kinney would accept the change in interviewers, but he had to try. For him, it was a mere act of friendship.

He had no way of knowing how much his life was about to change.

Justin waited as the shiny elevator doors opened, his footsteps slowly moving toward the reception desk that he knew to be the station for the secretary that zealously guarded the office of the owner of Kinney Enterprises. Daphne had told him all about her. If his friend's account had been accurate, he was about to come face-to-face with a barracuda. When he stopped at the desk that had a glass wall separating the lobby from her, Justin realized Daphne's assessment had been accurate. The woman was young, perhaps in her mid-thirties, her lips curved into the obligatory smile, yet far from reaching her eyes. In an instant, he accepted this wasn't going to be easy.

"May I help you?" she asked, her eyes flickering over the young man in disinterest... his plain clothing stating him not to be either an acquaintance or business associate of her employer.

"Yes..." Justin began, his eyes looking down at the embellished nameplate that identified her. "I am Justin Taylor; I am here to see Mr. Kinney."

Her lips twisted into a semblance of a sneer. "Of course you are, however, Mr. Kinney doesn't see anyone without an appointment. I am quite certain you don't have one."

"Me, personally? No, I don't, Ms. Swinton. I'm filling in for Daphne Chanders, who I believe is expected to see Mr. Kinney." Smiling at her slight look of surprise, he added, "That being the case... I'd hate to have Daphne perceived as arriving late, so... if you could point me in the right direction."

"A phone call regarding a substitution would have been preferred." Moving through the door and out to where Justin stood, she caustically retorted, "Mr. Kinney doesn't like surprises."

"I do apologize for my lapse. Ms. Chanders very much wanted to be here; however, an incapacitating illness made that impossible. Any inconvenience certainly wasn't intentional..."

Her demeanor completely uncaring, the only variable important to her being the smooth running of her employer's office, she curtly replied, "You can save your apologies for Mr. Kinney." She glanced down at her watch that was wrapped around her slender wrist, before directing him, "Go directly in, Mr. Taylor. My employer detests waiting..."

"Thank you," Justin muttered, thinking that Brian Kinney, one of the richest men in the country, if not the entire world, could do better in the selection of his office staff. His hand poised to knock on the polished oak door, his back tensing when she called out for him to enter without knocking, his head began to shake at the oddity of this entire exchange. He couldn't help wondering how it would all progress from here.

TBC