Sweet Deception

Chapter 1 : Rushing into the Unknown

Christiana

I need this job. There are so many bills to pay, Emma's school too. I need to send money back home to Mum; she sacrificed everything for me to move to NY and attend one of the most prestigious universities. After everything that happened all those years ago - the shame, the 'I told you so's' - I couldn't bear to stay. I NEED THIS JOB."

"I know that's not what you're wearing." Mia's voice pulled me out of my thoughts. She leaned against the doorframe of my bedroom, her jet-black hair (for now) a stark contrast to her bright smile.

I met Mia on my first day of college. I had left Emma with Mum, and I was running late for class. Still reeling from childbirth and the stress of taking care of a newborn, I was a nervous wreck. I got lost on campus and stumbled into a science class by mistake, by the time I realized my mistake it was too late to leave I tried to make myself unnoticeable by shrinking into my seat, fidgeting with my sleeves, biting on my nails anything but looking up I guess the small town had not rubbed off on me.

"Do you have an answer, miss...?" The lecturer's baritone voice cut through my thoughts, and I looked up to see the whole class staring at me. Snickers and giggles filled the room followed by comments like “what’s wrong with her, she looks like she’s about to puke” and in reality it did not feel far as bile kept rising up my throat as I muttered something incoherent.

“It’s not divisible, the number at the end makes it impossible to do that”. A voice from the back of the class called out.

Thank you miss...” baritone voice said.

“Mia….Mia Johnson”.

I quickly sat down and sank even deeper into my seat. Immediately the class was over I sped walked out of the room, down the hall aiming for the restroom desperate to escape before I embarrass myself even further.

"Hey, wait up!" Mia caught up to me. "You're not a science student, are you?"

I shook my head, still feeling embarrassed. "No, I got lost. I was waiting..." My words trailed off.

Mia chuckled. "It's okay. I'm only here because my mum said no to my band. At least I got to dye my hair purple."

I hadn’t noticed it before, Mia had purple hair! How did I miss that? I couldn't help but laugh.

“Oh now I’m the butt of the joke” Mia teased nudging my elbow. “I’m Mia Johnson” she said with her arms wide... I expected a handshake but not a hug. I went in anyway.

“Christiana Everton”. I said with a smile…. I did not remember the last time I smiled genuinely except with Emma; she is my bundle of joy.

“Good, let me show you around” she interlocked elbows with me. “We are going to be great friends," she said. Three and a half years later with my degree in Business Administration with a focus on Marketing and Customer Service and her degree in Computer science and a wizard in anything that concerns STEM we are still inseparable and she has always shown up for me more times than I can count with Emma and financially; I always promise to pay her back but she always rejects the money so I made a conscious decision to stop asking for more.

“Earth to Christiana.... beep boop” Mia teased.

"Mia, I really need this job," I said, feeling a surge of desperation.

Mia's expression turned serious. "You'll get it, Tiana. You're amazing."

I turned to her and made a face, then turned back to the mirror, examining my outfit to see if it was really that bad. “It’s not so bad, I got it at that store down the road, plus they were on sale, and it looks good,” I said, trying to convince myself.

“Yeah, if you were going for the most ugly dressed competition,” Mia said, already fishing through my wardrobe. “Mia!!” I said loudly, but she paid me no attention, her mind set on finding the perfect outfit.

The morning sunlight streaming through the large windows of my small, cozy apartment highlighted the cluttered living room. Toys and books were scattered all over the floor, and the smell of freshly brewed coffee wafted from the kitchen. Emma's giggles and the sound of cartoons playing in the background created a warm and welcoming atmosphere.

“Wear this,” Mia said, shoving a maroon chiffon top and black palazzo trousers into my arms.The outfit was cinched at the waist and hips but flowy downwards, long enough that I had to wear heels.

“Do not even think about flats,” she said, reading my mind. I hated her for that. “Okay, okay… just give me some privacy, goodness,” I said, already pushing her out the door. She moved only because she wanted to.

The strength of that woman was impressive. She once took down a 6’5” guy with her fists because he was being a creep.

“Emma's better company anyway,” she said as I pushed her out the door and closed it behind me.

I walked to the dresser and picked up my watch: 6:50 am. I still had ample time; the interview was not slated until 9 am. I quickly undressed and slipped on the outfit Mia recommended, applying light makeup and concealer to cover up my tired eyes. A little blush and my lip combo, plus lip gloss, completed my look. I put my hair in a bun and let some curls loose, then slipped on my maroon heels and some perfume. I stepped back and admired myself, after Emma I added a few pounds and definitely had rolls on my back but I still looked good. I stepped out of my bedroom into the living room which was open floor plan with the kitchen. The apartment was small on its own for extra walls anyway, Emma's little legs carried her towards me in her version of running.

“Mummy!” she exclaimed. I scooped her up in my arms. “Hi, my baby,” I said, planting kisses on her face, which resulted in a fit of giggles. She still had breakfast on her cheek, and a pea was stuck in her hair. Those eyes… they reminded me so much of...

“Mummy, you look so boo-ti-ful,” Emma said, snapping me out of my thoughts. Her tiny arms wrapped around my neck. My heart swelled with love and pride. “Thank you, sweetie. You make me feel beautiful inside and out.” I put her down and headed over to the door.

“Thank you so much, Mia,” I called out. “I have told you to stop thanking me; that is my child. Instead, thank me by catching a man in that outfit,” she replied, her voice laced with humor. I glared at her, and that seemed to result in a smile and air kisses. I shook my head as I closed the door behind me.

The sounds of the city hit me as I stepped out into the crisp morning air: car horns blaring, people chattering, and the wail of sirens in the distance. I looked at the notification on my phone, waiting for my Uber: 7:20 am. Perfect.

A ping sound followed, alerting me to the arrival of my ride. I quickly made my way down the wooden steps to the main road. I got into the grey-colored car and exchanged pleasantries with the driver. Exhaling nervously, I thought to myself, “Here goes nothing.”

A string of curse words followed by an unusual sound interrupted my last-minute preparation. I looked up to see the driver already out of the car, saying something about the engine. I stepped out of the car, and the look on his face confirmed all I needed to know: the car had broken down. Just my f*****g luck.

I tipped him and tried to book another ride, but the surge was crazy. This was one of the reasons I hated New York: too busy. I tried getting a roadside cab, and that proved fruitless too. I made a promise to kill Mia for talking me into heels instead of the flats I wanted.

I huffed and began walking, 8:00 am. Just f*****g great. I walked a couple of blocks, already feeling perspiration on my head and my feet getting sore. Finally, after many tries, I got a cab: 8:30 am. Anxiety was already getting the best of me, from being late to feeling like I wouldn’t get the job. Women do not get team leads, and women with kids have it worse. I tried to push these thoughts far back into my mind focusing on the now.

I arrived in front of the company at 8:45 am, feeling a mix of excitement and nerves. The morning sunlight cast a warm glow on the 5-story building, highlighting the sleek glass and steel façade. "OB Corp" was emblazoned on the structure in bold, silver letters, radiating an aura of prestige. As a potential team lead for the marketing department, I was determined to make a good impression.

I stepped inside, smoothing my outfit and offering a silent prayer that I didn't look as frazzled as I felt. The lobby was modern and sleek, with a high ceiling and polished marble floors that echoed my heels. The air was thick with the scent of freshly brewed coffee and the hum of quiet conversations. At the reception, I was greeted by a tall Asian lady with a warm smile and piercing brown eyes. "Hello, how may I help you?" she asked, her voice melodious and welcoming.

"Hi, I'm here for the interview," I replied, forcing a confident smile. My hands trembled slightly as I handed her my resume. The receptionist's expression turned sympathetic. "You're late; we're not supposed to allow candidates past 8:50 am." She glanced at her watch and back at me.

I hesitated, weighing the pros and cons of sharing my desperation. But something about her kind demeanor put me at ease. I considered opening up about my financial struggles, tired of asking my mum for money and tired of behaving like I do not notice when mia restocks my fridge, tired of the packed up car in my driveway, of the small house, tired of this city and my life, on the verge of moving back to half moon bay, how I was not sure I will get this job anyway and I just needed to try.. To do something and my desire to provide a better life for Emma.

However, the receptionist's next words spared me from pouring my heart out. "Know what? What the hell, it's just 2 minutes past. You can go in. We girls have to look out for ourselves, anyway, Miss...?"

"Christiana Everton," I replied, relief washing over me. A smile spread across my face as I said, “Thank you”.

"Knock 'em dead, 2nd floor," she said with a wink. I nodded feeling a surge of gratitude, hurrying toward the elevator. The soft chime of the elevator and the gentle whoosh of the doors opening created a sense of calm. If I landed this job, I owed her several cups of coffee – or maybe even lunch. I took a deep breath, trying to calm my racing heart. I could do this.