Chapter 2
1133 Words
Monday shone bright and sunny as I got up, jolted awake by the small timepiece on my bedside cabinet. "For such a small body, you have such a large voice," I mumbled to it, before shutting it up with a slap to its head.
I picked a black full-sleeved shirt and a grey pencil skirt that reached my knees, with black tights and silver pumps. I chose to straighten my hair before tying it up in a tight ponytail, giving it a prim and professional look. A touch of mascara, and lip gloss, and I was ready to go. The first impression was the best impression after all.
Becca was typing furiously on her laptop when I got down and nodded at my outfit. Good. I needed her stamp of approval. I gulped down the orange juice, straight from the carton, as I looked over her shoulder. "What're you working on?"
"I'm starting a blog for cooking this time." I nodded, before kissing her on the cheek and racing to the door. "I love ya Becks," I called over my shoulder. "You too, and good luck!"
I jogged over to the bus stop, waving my hands madly at the bus that was about to leave. Thankfully, it waited.
The bus took me to the heart of New York, right opposite the skyscraper that was Blackwell Enterprises. Oh my god. I gasped when I stood at the entrance, craning my head up to see the top.
The building was almost 40 feet tall and shone like glass in the bright morning light. Almost all of the cars that were parked were S class and celebs' choice, which made me think that the people in this place didn't need this job. Ha, that's likely.
The lounge and the waiting area were grander than a five-star restaurant, and my eyes bulged as they took in the mahogany sofas and chairs, and the off-white walls, most of which were thick white glass. I made my way over to the help desk, my heels clicking on the Lux touch marble floor.
"Hi! How can I help you?" The chirpy, almost angelic voice of the receptionist instantly made me smile. Her lipstick almost covered her face but who am I to judge?
"Uh hi," I chuckled nervously. "I hear there's an interview for the post of-"
"Assistant to the creative director?" she finished for me, her voice shrill to the point of a tiny scream. I nodded.
Bobbing her head up and down, she grinned, before saying, "Wait just a moment." I nodded again, turning slightly to admire the small statue standing proudly on the right corner of the receptionist's desk. Aphrodite. Classic. I stifled a small laugh. I was sure that he wasn't the one who picked that out. He hated Aphrodite. To death.
"Yes sir. In a minute....sure, yes sir... Yes of course... Thank you, sir." Her voice sounded so formal and professional on the phone. She looked up at me and smiled brightly. "Floor number 5, the last door on the extreme left. Oh, and show this at the help desk, they'll tell you what to do." I nodded and took the plain white card from her hand.
"Yeah, thanks." I smiled at her and walked towards the elevators, my heart thumping madly in my chest.
The elevators took me to the very busy fifth floor, where I did as the girl asked. There was another woman here, who looked to be in her mid-thirties. She wasn't too friendly and snatched the card from my hands before saying, "Wait, they'll call." Whoa, chile woman.
The décor was different, bringing out a kind of cosy and warm vibe rather than cool and executive. The furniture was all white and baby blue, and my gaping mouth and wide eyes struggled to take it all as I took a seat. A couple of other people were also there, for the interview I assumed. I sent a friendly smile their way before looking down at my folder and trying to calm my racing heartbeat.
I closed my eyes and tried not to think. This was my one shot. One-shot. Deep breaths Ciph. In... out. In...out. It helped, if only a little. I heard the soft footsteps as the women were called, one by one as they entered Hades' domain. I swallowed noisily, trying to calm my nerves.
"Klein, Ciphora." A monotonous male voice drawled, making me jump. Oh, God. Here we go. I stood up and skipped over to the mahogany doors. Taking a deep breath, I took a deep breath before knocking and pushing the door open.
The board of interviewers looked like the monsters that I'd feared as a child, the ones which hid under the bed. Still, I took a deep breath and rubbed my sweaty palms before handing over my folder and taking the seat of doom.
There were three of them, two men clad in suits and a woman with flaming red hair. What's that, hellfire?
All of them looked so serious, I had to fight off the urge to check behind their chairs, to see if they were sitting on fire or something. I sniggered internally. That calmed my nerves.
I smiled confidently, as I awaited the first tide. A bald guy in his late forties spoke first. "Your name is Ciphora right?" Obviously.
"Yes sir." I kept my voice strong, despite the insecurities leaking from my mind.
"Nice name." The woman commented, scanning me from top to bottom. Yucks.
"Thank you, ma'am." Hmph. As if.
"You worked at Brook well Publishers?" The other guy asked. Crap.
"Yes sir."
And it went on, asking me what I loved most about editing others' works, and why I chose Literature as my major back at UC Davis.
Then finally, came the million-dollar question.
"What do you think you can bring to this company if you join?" The redhead asked, closing my folder and placing it on the table. A smile curved up the corners of my mouth. Yes. I can do this.
I heaved a huge sigh of relief as I stepped out, hugging my folder tightly. That was brutal. I straightened my stiff shoulders, flashing a big smile at the stick-up-her-ass woman at the reception. Well, I think I made it. They all looked so impressed after my little speech.
I skipped over to the rest area and bought a latte, sipping it as I fast-walked towards one of the empty seats, still lost in a mist of giddiness. Big mistake.
Because, just as I finished my happy dance inside my head, my latte smacked right into a rock-hard chest clad in an all-black suit, spilling the caramel liquid all over the material. Oh hell no.
This can't be happening.
I must be in hell.
- Writer
