Longing For Him

CHAPTER 3: The Interview

Jennie

I proceed to the reception desk at the lobby. From the inside, the Sterling Group building is even more intimidating. The interior is nothing like the ordinary office buildings I had imagined. Everything looks sleek and expensive The floor beneath my heels is polished black marble, reflecting the soft golden lights suspended from the ceiling. Tall glass walls divide different sections of the lobby, and behind them, employees move with the kind of purpose that makes me suddenly aware of how slowly I am walking.

There are people everywhere. Men in tailored suits with phones pressed to their ears. Women in perfectly fitted dresses and pencil skirts, carrying tablets and folders. All rushing from one side of the lobby to another. A few people sit in the lounge area, speaking quietly over coffee.

I straighten my shoulders and approach one She looks up from her computer.

"Good morning. How can I help you?"

"I'm here for an interview."

She types something, barely looking at me.

"Name?"

I give it to her.

Her fingers move across the keyboard for a few seconds before she finally looks at me.

"Twenty-sixth floor. Interview room."

She points towards the elevators.

"Thank you."

I turn away before she can see how relieved I am to have survived the first interaction.

Two security guards stand beside the elevators, both dressed in dark uniforms, their expressions unreadable. One presses the button for me when the doors open.

I step inside. Two women are already there. One has her hair pulled into a sleek bun, while the other has long waves falling over her shoulders. They are in a deep conversation, or rather, their gossip.

I don't catch everything, but I hear enough.

"...and I'm telling you, there is no way she didn't know."

The woman with the bun gives her a look.

"I'm just saying, if I were her—"

They both notice me.

Silence.

I pretend I didn't hear a thing.

They exchange a quick glance before continuing in much quieter voices.

I almost smile. Apparently, even Sterling Group has office gossip.

The elevator climbs. Twenty-one. The doors open and the two women step out, but not before one of them gives me a polite smile.

The doors close and I'm alone. My stomach drops. I stare at the glowing numbers above the doors.

Twenty-two.

Twenty-three.

Twenty-four.

My palms are beginning to sweat and I wipe them discreetly against the side of my skirt.

Twenty-five. One more.

Twenty-six.

The doors slide open. I step out and turn right.

The hallway stretches ahead of me, quiet and immaculate. Cream walls. Dark wooden doors. Framed artwork spaced perfectly along the walls. The soft hum of the air conditioning is the only sound.

At the very end of the hallway, printed in clean black letters, are the words:

INTERVIEW ROOM.

My heart begins pounding harder. At the entrance sits another receptionist. Unlike the woman downstairs, she doesn't even pretend to be welcoming. She looks me over from head to toe, then back at her computer.

"Name?"

I tell her.

"Have a seat."

The chair is far too comfortable for the amount of anxiety I'm experiencing. I place my handbag beside my feet and clasp my hands together.

Five minutes.

Ten.

Fifteen.

The clock on the wall seems determined to move slower than usual.

The door to a room opens and a tall man with brown hair steps out.

"Mr. Hart?"

A man sitting across from me gets up. The two men enter inside and the door closes behind them. A few minutes later, he comes out. He doesn't look particularly happy.

This time, the receptionist receives a call and after the call ends, she calls another name. A woman gets up. Same thing. She goes in and I stare at the door that closes behind her.

I wonder if we're all interviewing for the same position. She comes out and I know it's my turn.

"Jessie Anderson."

I look up.

The receptionist is staring directly at me.

"You're next."

I walk to the door and knock once.

"Come in."

The interview room is larger than I expected. A long, polished table sits in the centre, with five people seated behind it. Three women and two men.

The woman in the middle looks to be in her fifties. Her silver-streaked hair is pulled neatly behind her head, and she has the kind of face that gives absolutely nothing away.

Beside her sits a younger woman, probably in her thirties. She's holding a folder and watching me carefully, her expression sharp and analytical. I get the feeling she notices everything.

The third woman looks friendlier. She gives me a small nod when I sit down, almost reassuringly.

Then there are the men. One is older, perhaps in his forties, with glasses perched low on his nose. He looks serious but composed, occasionally making notes on the paper in front of him.

The other...

I feel his eyes on me before I even look at him. When I finally do, my stomach tightens. His gaze travels over me in a way that makes my skin crawl. I shift slightly in my chair. He doesn't look away.

I force myself to focus on the woman in the middle.

"Good morning."

"Good morning."

The questions begin.

My education. My experience. Why I applied. Why I believe I'm suitable for the position.

I answer each one as calmly as I can.

At some point, I forget about the man staring at me. Or at least, I try to. The interview seems to go on forever, yet when it's finally over, I'm almost surprised.

The woman in the middle closes the folder.

"Thank you for coming in. We'll communicate the outcome by close of business."

I smile.

"Thank you for the opportunity."

I stand, gather my handbag and walk out. The moment the door closes behind me, I exhale. I hadn't realized I'd been holding my breath. I make my way back to the elevator. It's only 12 p.m. I don't want to go home yet. I'm hungry, having not eaten anything in the morning because I was afraid I might throw up from all the nerves. I make my way to the ground floor and follow the signs to the cafeteria.

The atmosphere is different here. Louder. People are talking over one another, trays clattering against tables, laughter coming from different corners. Employees sit in groups, some eating while others work on their laptops. I'm hit by the smell of food the moment I walk in.

I join the queue and try not to think about the interview.

'We'll communicate the outcome by close of business.'

What does that even mean?

I reach the counter and order a coffee and warm bread. When I turn around with my tray, I realize I have no idea where to sit. I spot an empty chair at a table near the window and make my way there. I'm halfway through sitting down when someone at the next table says,

"You're new." I look up.

A woman is looking at me over the rim of her coffee cup. She looks to be in her late twenties, maybe early thirties, with a loose bun and a lanyard hanging around her neck.

"That obvious?"

She smiles. "Very."

"What gave it away?" I ask with half a laugh.

"The fact that you're still looking at the signs."

"First time here." I say

"I figured."

She takes another sip of coffee. "New employee?"

"Not yet." That catches her attention.

"Interview?" I nod.

"For Sterling?"

I almost laugh.

"Where else would I have interviewed?" I joke and she grins.

"Fair point."

One of the men sitting beside her looks over, "What position?"

I tell them and there's a brief silence. Then the woman raises her eyebrows.

"Oh."

That tiny word makes my stomach tighten.

"What?"

"Nothing."

The man laughs. "Don't scare her."

"I'm not scaring her."

"You are."

She looks back at me.

"I'm sure you did fine."

"That's what everyone says when they think you didn't."

She laughs.

"Okay. Maybe you'll fit in here after all."

Her friends laugh. I smile and return to my food. The conversation moves on without me, and I find myself listening.

They talk about deadlines, a manager who apparently has a habit of scheduling meetings during lunch, someone's upcoming wedding and a missing office printer cartridge that seems to have become a serious organizational crisis.

A woman walks past our table. She slows and looks at me. She keeps walking then stops and turns around.

"Excuse me."

I look up. "Yes?"

"Were you on twenty-six?"

My hand freezes halfway to my mouth.

"Yes."

She looks at me for a second.

"Interview?"

I nod slowly.

Her eyes flick towards my companions. Then back to me.

"Oh."

There it is again. That oh.

Before I can ask what it means, she smiles politely.

"Good luck."

Then she walks away. I stare after her.

The woman across from me is trying very hard not to laugh.

"What?"

She shakes her head.

"Nothing."

I point my fork at her.

"Don't."

She laughs.

"I'm serious. I can't tell you anything."

"Why?"

"Because you'll think I'm gossiping."

"You are gossiping."

"Exactly."

She lowers her voice, " It's just that... the position you interviewed for... You really don't know what you're getting yourself into."

I frown, " What do you mean?"

She hesitates, " Let's just say working close to him isn't for everyone."

My frown deepens, " Him?"

"The CEO", she says and takes a sip of her coffee.

Him. My heart skips a beat.

I look down at my now cold coffee, " I think I'll survive."

I finish the rest of meal silently, barely even tasting the food. My mind racing. ' Working close to him isn't for everyone.' But they don't know him like I do.