CHAPTER 3
1200 Words
AYA ADAMS
Top floor, Maison Laurent Fashion House.
A female staff member slid the door open with her back as she walked in, holding a stack of folders.
“Welcome on board again, Miss Adams,” she said, placing the files on my desk.
“Let me guess more files?” I asked, creasing my brows.
She gave a soft grin and turned to leave.
“Oh, almost forgot. This one’s for today’s interviewees,” she added, holding out a separate file.
“Wait…what? I’m sitting in on interviews now?”
“Yes, that’s what the CEO said.”
“I am the CEO now.
“Yes, ma’am. I'm so sorry.
“You can leave now.”
After she left, I picked up my phone too quickly and dialed my mother’s number.
“I’m sitting in for interviews now?”
“Yes, you have to. Maison Laurent the Adams family fashion house has been stagnant for far too long. Your return to New York is the best shot we have at reviving it. Make public appearances. Let the people warm up to us again.”
“Muuuum—”
“No buts. Do as I say.”
She hung up before I could even respond.
“So annoying,” I muttered under my breath.
Just a few seconds later, the office telephone rang.
“Hello, Aya Adams speaking.”
“Yes, ma’am. From reception. The interview starts in five minutes.”
“I’ll be right there.”
I picked up the file and headed out. I hadn’t taken more than a few steps when someone suddenly covered my eyes from behind.
“Who is it?” I asked, tugging at the hands.
“Who else?” the voice replied playfully.
I dragged the hands down until they were low enough, then bit one.
“Ouch! You haven’t changed,” they yelped.
“I know, right? Neither have you,” I said, sticking out my tongue in mockery.
“Wait…you knew it was me”
“Of course. Why do you think I didn’t throw you off?” I said as we stepped into the elevator.
“What is this face you’re wearing?”
“You look like you’re about to judge a room full of haters.”
“I am,” I replied flatly.
“Guess I should be careful today,” he muttered as the elevator doors opened.
We stepped out and walked down the hall. As we passed the line of interviewees, I could’ve sworn someone subtly dodged my gaze as we entered the room.
ABIGAIL MENDEZ
“Wait… why am I hiding? I didn’t do anything wrong,” I whispered to myself, straightening up and smoothing my clothes.
Moments later, the lady who had directed me earlier returned to make an announcement.
“Very soon, your names will be called one after the other. The questioning will begin immediately after. Understood?”
A murmur of nervous agreement swept through the room.
“The first candidate… Ella Robbin..please step forward.”
I watched as she disappeared behind the door, which shut firmly behind her.
One by one, names were called. Each person went in, and then came out some with blank stares, others quietly muttering to themselves. The nerves began to set in again. I clutched my chest and tried to steady my breathing. I stared at my portfolio, inhaled deeply and was just exhaling when I heard it:
“Abigail Mendez.”
I froze, forgetting to breathe.
“Ah… yes,” I finally replied, forcing in another breath.
Gripping my portfolio tightly, I braced myself for whatever waited inside.
I walked in and stood in front of the single chair at the center of the room, waiting for the cue to sit. Aya's eyes met mine, and I could see it she was just as shocked to see me.
“Won’t you sit?” she asked, voice stern and unreadable.
“Ah, of course.”
“Your portfolio?” the man beside her probably Michael asked.
“Yes, of course,” I said quickly, handing it over and taking my seat. Even then, I could feel Aya’s stare piercing through me.
My leg bounced unconsciously as I waited for the questioning to begin. I’m usually not this nervous, but something about her gaze was different meaner, colder… not like the Aya I knew in high school.
“Your portfolio is really”
“Why should I pick you?” Aya cut in, silencing Michael.
“Uhm ” I stammered as she raised a brow.
No. No stuttering. I squared my shoulders and fired back.
“You won’t regret it.”
“I’m sure we wouldn’t regret picking most of the candidates outside either. So why you, Abby I mean, Abigail?”
“Alright then,” I said, inhaling sharply. “Looking at the status of Maison Laurent over the past year it's been stagnant. Worse than stagnant. It needs new vision, new blood someone who knows what real fashion looks like. I can help revive this company and bring it back to the top while evolving it in the process.”
“You do know you’d be working as my assistant?” Aya asked.
“Of course, ma’am.”
“You’ll need to think ahead. Know everything. All the time.”
“Agreed. I’m your best bet. I mean… I’m better than you. You can attest to that.”
“What I’m better than you,” Aya snapped, standing and slamming her hands on the table.
“Says the girl who came second every single time,” I shot back.
“You were just two points ahead! Two points, Abby. Two points!”
“And that’s exactly what made me better. Or have you forgotten?” I said, rising from my seat and stepping closer.
“But look who’s here begging for a job from me.”
“Thank your mother for that. Without her, you’d be nothing.”
Aya’s face faltered. Her expression changed. I knew I’d gone too far. She slowly sat back down, and so did I. Michael watched us, stunned.
“…Your portfolio is amazing,” Aya finally said, flipping through the pages again.
“Thank you,” I replied quietly.
“You haven’t changed. Your drawings… they’re breathtaking.”
“You’re more talented than me, Aya. I can’t compare,” I admitted honestly.
She paused mid-page.
“Glad you finally accepted that I am better than you.”
“At one thing, Aya. Just one thing.”
“I’m still better, alright!”
Michael looked back and forth between us, completely bewildered. Just moments ago, we were about to kill each other. Now we were practically complimenting each other and snapping again.
“In your dreams, Aya.”
“You’re hired,” she said suddenly, making my breath catch.
“Huh?”
“I don’t repeat myself. You know that, Abby.”
“…Work starts Monday?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Ohh, the sound of that,” she said with a chuckle as she turned and walked away.
“Oh and your outfit,” she added, glancing back. “It fit the theme best. You really put in your best.”
- Writer
