New Doors
1155 Words
Claire Evermore
I woke up with a throbbing headache, waving the fogginess away as I groaned. My head felt like it was being crushed in a vice grip. "I really shouldn't have drank my ass to death," I muttered to myself.
As I nursed my headache, slowly massaging my temples, I realized I was definitely not in my own room. Panic set in as I surveyed my unfamiliar surroundings. Where am I? What happened last night?
The room was dimly lit, the curtains drawn to block out the daylight. The decor was generic, with muted colors and a nondescript bed. It was a place that hinted at transience, like a waystation for lost souls.
I checked myself, my heart racing with anxiety. I was still in my work clothes, and I had no bruises or wounds which meant I hadn't been abducted or violated. But the confusion remained, and it gnawed at me like a persistent itch.
I rose from the bed, desperate to investigate. I couldn't remember anything after downing so much whiskey last night. How did I even get here?
I searched everywhere for my belongings, but my box of personal items was nowhere to be found. Panic gripped me anew. I must have left it at that bar. Sh!t.
Not bothering to fix myself up, I stumbled out of the room, purse and iPhone in hand, and found myself in a narrow hallway with a series of doors. A sense of déjà vu washed over me, and then it hit me. This is a hotel.
I made my way to the lobby, where the receptionist sat behind a desk, looking at me with a mixture of concern and bemusement.
"Excuse me," I demanded, my voice wavering slightly. "Can you tell me why I'm here?"
The receptionist glanced at me and said, "You checked yourself in last night. Honestly, you were barely comprehensible. One of the maids helped you to your room."
I felt my face flush with embarrassment. I couldn't believe I had checked myself into a hotel while in such a state.
"How much do I owe?" I asked, dreading the answer.
The receptionist offered a small smile. "You actually paid last night, ma'am."
I could hardly believe it. Gosh. I must have been a complete mess.
With a mixture of gratitude and shame, I hurriedly checked out and made my way to the curb. I opened my phone and hailed an Uber, vowing never to let myself get into such a state again. The events of the previous night were a foggy blur, but one thing was clear: I had a lot of questions and very few answers.
I climbed into the Uber and gave the driver an address that seemed like the last place I remembered from last night—the Rusty Anchor. I checked the time on my iPhone, and it read 8:00 a.m.
Pulling up to the Rusty Anchor, I explained to the guard-on-post that I had left my belongings there the previous night. He raised an eyebrow but gestured for me to wait as I couldn't enter while they were cleaning up. I watched as he disappeared into the bar, only to return moments later with my box of belongings. Relief washed over me; it seemed that everything was still there.
Thanking the guard, I headed back to the car and rebooked my Uber to take me to my place. The city rolled by as we made our way toward East 16th Avenue.
Just as I was lost in thought, my iPhone buzzed, startling me from my reverie. I glanced down at the screen to see an email notification. The sender's name caught me off guard—Knight Industries. I vaguely recalled applying there on a whim about six months ago, but why were they emailing me now?
Shrugging, I read the email.
Dear Ms. Claire Evermore,
You've been shortlisted for a position at Knight Industries. We'd like to invite you for an interview here at Knight Industries Tower, 601 Grant St, Pittsburgh, PA, today at 12 noon.
Please confirm your attendance at your earliest convenience.
We appreciate your interest in Knight Industries and look forward to meeting you.
Best regards,
Mary Queensland
Human Resources - Knight Industries
My heart raced with excitement as I read the email confirming my interview with Knight Industries. What were the chances? After the rollercoaster of emotions from last night, this was like a beacon of hope shining through the darkness.
I pondered the good news as the Uber continued forward, taking me back to my place. Upon arrival, I paid the driver and stepped out of the car, eager to get my day started.
Inside my apartment, the stench of alcohol clung to me like a stubborn ghost. My first order of business was to rid myself of that lingering odor. I craved a shower like I had been swimming in beer and vomit—blech.
After a refreshing shower, I stood in front of the mirror, contemplating my outfit choices. I picked the red dress, a bold choice that hugged my curves in all the right places.
As I stood before the mirror, I couldn't help but recall what my friends used to say about me. They often remarked on how my blond hair had a natural, sun-kissed glow, and my bright, expressive eyes seemed to carry a spark of mischief. My friends had a habit of teasing me about my delicate nose and lips, saying they held a subtle, alluring charm that left an impression. They often described my smile as infectious, capable of brightening up even the dullest of days. I hardly believed them, especially the guys. They were just describing my b00bs.
With a final check in the mirror, I was ready for my interview.
~ o 0 o ~
I sat nervously in the lobby of the Knight Industries Tower, my heart aflutter with excitement and trepidation. The opulent interior of the building oozed sophistication and grandeur, but something struck me as odd. Knight Industries, a pharmaceutical company, had chosen to paint its walls a dark color. It was far from the usual clinical white I expected, and it added an air of mystery to the surroundings.
Lost in thought, I was abruptly pulled from my musings by a voice calling out, "Miss Evermore?"
I jolted in my posh chair, nerves making my pulse quicken. "Yes? That's me," I replied, trying to maintain a composed demeanor.
The receptionist behind the sleek desk offered a polite smile. "You'll be seen now."
"Great! Where's Miss Mary Queensland's office?" I inquired, recalling the HR department head's name from the email.
The receptionist's smile remained warm but knowing. "Oh, no, Miss Evermore. Miss Queensland will not be interviewing you."
I furrowed my brow, perplexed. "Then who will?"
"Since this post is for a personal secretary, you will be interviewed by the CEO himself," she replied. "Mr. Alexander Knight."
- Writer
