Chapter 3
1201 Words
"Maddie!" It was a scream.
I ran out of the room with sheer excitement to meet her in the kitchen.
"Why are you screaming my name?" she asked out of curiosity.
"I was finally invited for an interview with the G-fashion world."
"Whoa" was all she could say.
"How come?"
"I don't know. I just went online and decided to check my sss, hoping to see if any of the applications I sent out to the fashion firms got approved, and I found theirs." I explained in sheer excitement and showed her the phone to see for herself.
I'm really happy for you," she said, giving me a tight hug.
"Thank you, Maddie. I can't thank you enough for everything you've done."
"C'mon, Alicia, there's no need to."
"Maddie, please allow me." Thank you for accommodating my daughter and me. Since we moved in, you've shown us nothing but kindness. I'll forever be grateful." I was already pushing back the tears that were clouding my eyes.
"You are welcome, Alicia. Thank you too.
Maddie Zane and I were best friends right from our childhood days. Although we went to different colleges, our bond was something our parents couldn't understand.
I immediately conversed with her about my need for temporary accommodation at her place, and she accommodated me with open arms. It had been almost two years already, and never once had she made me feel like I had overstayed my welcome.
She was a teacher and a virtual assistant. Her home was one of the smallest yet beautifully decorated apartments I had ever seen. Everywhere was painted white, while the curtains had black flowery designs on them.
"You better come help me check these scrambled eggs. I need to go have my bath so I won't be late for work."
"It's your turn to cook today, so please do so excellently after all; you've never helped me cook for me when it's my turn."
"Please just assist me in assisting myself. I wouldn't want to be late today," she pleaded.
I dropped my phone and got the turning fork from her. We were supposed to have scrambled eggs with bread and coffee for breakfast.
"Thank you." She gave me a peck on the cheek and ran into the room.
I jumped up and down at the thought of having to work at G-Fashion World. They were the most renowned fashion firm in town, and working with them was going to be a big win for me.
Since I moved to Los Angeles, I had been scouting for job offers, all to no avail, and luckily, I had finally gotten an interview invitation letter from them.
My life was beginning to take shape. With the money gathered, I was going to send my daughter Juanita to school.
I walked boldly into the G-Fahsion World building and, as usual, was face-to-face with the receptionist. A lady I assumed to be younger than me welcomed me with a smile.
"Hello, good morning, Marm," she greeted.
"Good morning." I reciprocated her smile.
"Welcome to the G-fashion world. How can I be of help to you?"
"I scheduled an interview for today." My confidence could be perceived.
"An interview? "she asked with a shock on her face. "I wasn't informed of any interviews today."
"I"—my tongue got tied.
"I'm not trying to be rude, but are you sure you're at the right place?"
"Yes, I am. Let me show you proof." I brought out my phone and showed her the email I had received.
"Uhmm. I guess I wasn't informed. Please do give me a minute," she concluded. She got the telephone and placed a call to whomever it was.
"I've called the secretary to the manager, and she confirmed she isn't aware of any scheduled interview.
"But how is that possible?" The disappointment on my face couldn't be hidden.
At this point, my defences were broken. Hours ago, I was the happiest lady because of my supposed interview, and now I was face-to-face with the reality that it was fake. My smile began wearing off, and I began losing my composure.
"If you're so sure you were scheduled for an interview today, you could as well wait for the manager," she said again.
A sense of hope arose. "What time will he be around?"
"I can't fathom!"
"Okay then, I'll wait," I concluded, and I went to where the couch was kept and sat.
I forced myself to believe that it was probably misinformation because there was no way a fashion firm like this would be careless enough to send an interview invitation.
"Everything was going to be fine, girl," I muttered, reassuring myself.
People trooped in one after the other, and all eyes were on me. I was able to catch a glance at some of the celebrities I had always seen.
The clock was ticking, and there wasn't any sign of the manager yet. I was beginning to feel uncomfortable and tired of the clothes I was wearing. The stress on my face was already wearing off the light makeup I had earlier applied. Maddie had on several occasions called to know what was happening, and I kept narrating how disappointed I felt.
It was already 3:00 p.m., and I decided I wasn't going to wait any longer. I got up from the couch, rearranged myself, and went back to the receptionist.
"Sorry, but I think I'll take my leave. It's been 5 hours already, and there has been no sign of your manager. But just in case there's an inquiry to know if someone came for an interview, please let them know."
"No problem, ma'am. Sorry for the disappointment."
"It's fine." I gave a weak smile and walked out of the door.
I stood on the road waiting for a cab that was heading in my direction. My eyes were teary, and I wrestled hard to not let myself get embarrassed.
Still waiting, a black Benz approached in the direction of where I stood. From all indications, the driver wanted to drive into the office. I alighted and made way for whomever it was to move freely.
There was no sight of a single cab, so I decided to book a cab online. While fiddling with my phone, I felt a gentle tap on my shoulder.
"Hello, Miss, good evening," a young man said.
"Good evening," I tried, feigning an upright face.
"Sorry to badge into you this way, but were you scheduled for an interview today?"
"Yes, I was," I hurriedly replied.
"Please do come in. You'll be attended to in no time."
"I don't understand. I was in there for a couple of hours, and no one came to attend to me. On the verge of leaving, you come to tell me I should go back in. Who are you, by the way?" My tone was brusque and high.
I was really pissed at the turnout of my day, and I wasn't going to bottle it all up in the name of being a good, approachable lady.
The young man stood mute with his eyes locked in mine.
"I'm Gareth Roy, the Manager and Owner of G-Fashion World."
- Writer
