The Interview
1380 Words
Chapter 4
The Interview
(Aspen’s POV)
I woke up with a heaviness in my chest that made it hard to breathe.
The shelter’s dim lights glowed faintly. Winter and Holly were curled together on their narrow beds, the blankets pulled to their chins. They had not even seen me come in last night. I had been too ashamed to wake them and tell them the truth.
I didn’t have it in me to tell them I had lost one of my jobs. The catering job was gone.
I sat up slowly, trying not to make a sound.
Winter had been trying to convince me she should start working. She was only sixteen, still a kid in so many ways, and yet life had pushed her into adulthood whether she was ready or not. I refused to let her cross that line. I wanted her to study. I wanted Holly to stay in school. I wanted college for them both. I wanted them to have the choices I gave up.
I refused to let their childhoods be stolen the way mine had been.
I forced myself to sit up and breathe, pushing away the memory. I had no room for regret this morning. My sisters needed me present.
“Wake up,” I whispered gently.
Winter opened her eyes first. Holly followed, rubbing her face and yawning loudly. I helped them get dressed, did their hair, and found two apples in my bag. I gave the apples to them and pretended I had already eaten breakfast.
After we got dressed, I brushed Holly’s hair into a braid and tucked loose strands behind Winter’s ear. They looked so hopeful in the mornings, as if they believed a new day always meant things could get better.
I wanted to believe that too.
I walked them to school, telling them I would see them tonight at the shelter. Winter kept glancing over her shoulder until they disappeared inside the building.
Once they were gone, I let out a slow breath and headed toward the car.
Our car.
The last gift my mother ever gave me. Old, dented, loud, and barely holding together, but it was ours. The backseat held blankets, clothes, two backpacks, and whatever pieces of our lives we could not bear to lose.
I sat behind the wheel and closed my eyes.
I had lost the catering job.
I had barely fifty dollars left.
And I had an interview for a job I was painfully unqualified for.
But Vera had been so certain.
This could change everything.
I turned the key. The engine sputtered twice before catching. I exhaled in shaky relief and pulled out of the parking lot.
The drive to downtown felt longer than usual. Every light seemed to turn red. Every passing minute made my nerves tighten more.
What was I doing?
Why would anyone hire me?
What if I embarrassed myself again?
I forced the thoughts away and kept driving.
When I reached the towering glass building, I parked far away where no one would notice the rust on the car door. I stepped out, smoothed my cardigan, and walked toward the entrance.
Inside, I froze.
Every woman waiting looked like she belonged on the cover of a magazine.
I watched as they brushed their long hair to perfection. Fix their already sharp eyeliner. They wore designer blouses. Their heels clicked across the floor like they owned the place. Some reapplied lipstick while others checked their reflections in tiny mirrors. They whispered to each other with excitement and confidence.
And then there was me.
Faded cardigan. Messy bun. Nerves trembling through my fingertips.
I almost turned around.
My phone buzzed.
A thumbs up emoji from Vera.
I swallowed hard and stayed.
The receptionist called my name, and I followed her into a bright office where a man in his early fifties looked up from my resume.
“Miss Hart,” he said. “This is your experience?”
I nodded. “Yes.”
“You have worked since you were sixteen. Fast food. Grocery store. Catering. No administrative experience. No office background.”
“No,” I said. “But I learn quickly. I work hard. I can handle anything. I am willing to anything the job requires.”
He raised a brow. “Do you know who you would be assisting?”
“No,” I admitted. “But it does not matter to me. I just want to work.”
Mark studied me for a long moment, something thoughtful in his eyes.
“Most women here applied because they want a chance to flirt with Slade,” he said plainly. “Please tell me you are not one of them.”
Heat rushed up my neck. “I am not. I do not even know who he is. I just need a job.”
That was all he needed.
“You are hired,” he said. “You start tomorrow.”
I stared at him. “I am hired?”
“Yes.”
My eyes filled with tears. “Thank you. Truly.”
He handed me a small clipboard of paperwork. I took it with shaking hands, thanked him again, and walked out of the room lightheaded with relief.
As I stepped out of the building, sunlight reflected off the glass doors. At that exact moment, a man walked inside. Dark hair. Broad shoulders. Those unmistakable green eyes.
My breath caught.
The man from the party.
Humiliation burned through me, remembering the tray, the spilled food, the tears. I turned away quickly.
I reached my car, leaned against it, and let out a slow breath to steady myself.
Then my stomach dropped.
My keys.
I had left them in the interview room.
I groaned softly, opened the car door to check even though I knew they were not there, then closed it quickly and hurried back toward the building.
Halfway down the hall, I heard raised voices.
My name.
I froze.
The door was open an inch. I pushed it gently.
- - - - -
(Slade’s POV)
I stepped into the interview room and closed the door behind me. “Did you really hire someone without asking me first?”
Mark looked far too calm. “We needed someone. You have run through assistants faster than I can hire them.”
“That is not the point,” I snapped. “Let me see her resume.”
He handed it to me. I scanned it quickly, irritation building with every line. Her name was Aspen Hart.
“This girl has nothing,” I said. “No experience. No skills. Nothing useful for this job.”
“She has work ethic. Integrity. Real drive,” Mark said.
I ignored him.
“I need someone who can actually get my s**t done, Mark.”
I mind flew back to the girl I saw in the parking lot just now.
The one who had cried alone on the side of the building last night.
The one I should not have been thinking about.
Absolutely not.
“I cannot have someone like that working for me,” I said. “She is timid. Weak. She will fall apart in two days.”
Mark opened his mouth, but something in his expression shifted. His eyes flicked over my shoulder.
He shook his head.
I turned.
Aspen stood in the doorway.
Her hand trembled around a set of keys. Her eyes glistened with hurt. She looked like she was holding herself together by sheer force of will.
Slowly, she stepped forward. She placed the paperwork Mark had given her on the table.
“I am sorry for interrupting,” she whispered. “I came back for my keys.”
She grabbed them from the chair, her fingers shaking, then turned toward me. Her shoulders lifted slightly, as if she were trying to make herself appear tall, steady, unbroken.
“Thank you for the opportunity,” she said softly. “I understand.”
She walked out of the room without waiting for a response.
I did not say a word.
Mark stared at me.
I stared at the door she had disappeared through, something tight and uncomfortable twisting in my chest.
Guilt.
A feeling I hadn't had in a very long time.
- Writer
