Loving The Flame

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We patiently waited for what seemed like an eternity, eagerly anticipating the question that would determine who would claim the coveted crown chair. The judges certainly didn't rush their decision-making process. Meanwhile, I freshen up my face, removing the smudged makeup from my skin, while Olivia assists me in tying my hair back into a neat ponytail. I agree with her suggestion, as it would highlight my facial features more prominently. I want to ensure that everyone is fully convinced that the disruption I bring is solely focused on my professional endeavours.

As Evelyn begins her journey down the aisle towards us, I notice a hint of disappointment on her face. However, she quickly masks it with a nervous smile, directed at someone behind us. I turn around to see a security guard already guiding her towards the exit. I was too caught up in my tasks to notice how long he had been standing there.

"I guess we're not supposed to share details," Olivia nonchalantly remarks, and I silently agree, my anxiety intensifying slightly.

"Ms. Brown, Ms. Olivia Brown?" Once more, the man uttered a name, and sadly, since I want her to stay by me until the end, it's my friend's turn.

"I'm on," she says, appearing slightly unsettled; her face contorted into a trembling smile, and her eyes glistened with moisture. That's her demeanour when she lacks self-assurance or experiences pre-performance jitters.

"You got this." I stand up and hug her to boost her up.

"We'll meet at Fen's place; he wanted us there," she remarks while grabbing her purse and briskly strides down the aisle towards the waiting interviwers.

This interview takes a while as well, but to be honest, seeing her walk out gives me a better feeling since she is calmer and has a smile. This is better. I thought to myself as I prepared myself to leap out of my seat, anticipating that it would soon be my turn.

“Ms. Isabel Garcia!” He projected his voice, and I sat back, feeling anxious once again. I really hoped to get over this as soon as possible, but I guess not. I quietly look at Isabel standing from her seat so gracefully, her brown hair flawlessly cascading down her back, her body curvature well displayed in her blood red bodycon dress, and her golden stiletto complementing her jewellery and handbag. Everything about her is well maintained. I pull my nape down as she walks past me and down the aisle to the interview aria, following the man who’s calling us one by one.

I believe this is a statement. It feels like he's implying that I don't measure up to the position; he let my friend go before me, and now I'm the last one for the interview. I understand that my arrival may not be ideal. I take a deep breath and gaze towards the distant end of the hall, where they are located. I can only catch a glimpse of Isabel's back, and they appear deeply engrossed in the words on the pages they hold. Occasionally, they flash a smile, resembling the distant hum of a beehive, as they politely take turns inquiring. Then I retrieve my phone from my backpack and begin delving deeper into the details surrounding Mr. Anderson.

“Ms. Williams?” I feel jumpy as I realise the man approached me closer, calling me. I was so busy searching for Mr. Anderson on my phone that I didn’t pay attention to the fact that he was calling me. I quickly and suddenly stood up and looked behind me to see where Isabel was going. With a wide smile at me, she walks out of the hall. “Are you ready?” he inquires, and I vigorously nod while flashing a nervous smile. He confidently takes the lead, and I obediently follow while discreetly wiping my palm on the dress.

This is stressful, and I have never felt like this before. I am uncomfortable, and I didn’t approach the chair that is placed in front of the table like a model on a runway. I am responding to my emotions, and they are indicating that I am apprehensive about this situation.

I am used to getting looked at, but now I can feel that I am being judged. All four of them are looking at me from head to toe, and they all seem unsure about how serious I am about this competition. However, they turn their attention to the paper on the table before them, except for Mr. Anderson, who is still staring at me with his eyes slightly narrowed.

"How's the runaway?" he casually inquires, and I furrow my brow, leaning to the side. I take my time to respond, but the intensity of his gaze leaves no doubt that he is eagerly awaiting my reply.

“Yes, it was quite an experience,” I reply, my lips forming a tight line.

"It looks like you've made it to the advanced stages," Tiff remarks, her eyes still focused on the papers in front of her. "Introduce yourself briefly," she commands, and I take a deep breath and let it out slowly.

"Well, my name is Alora Williams."

“You grow up in an orphanage until you are adopted into the Williams,” Mr. Anderson states in the introduction, noting that he has conducted ample research. "I would rather know about who is here today," he continues, and I try to hide my discomfort with a forced smile. "So, what happened today?" he inquires.

"Um." I moisten my lower lip and clear my throat, searching for the perfect words to adequately describe my appearance. As I previously stated, my schedule was full this morning. I had to come here immediately.

"Just to clarify," he leans in closer, his gaze locked with mine, causing a lump to form in my throat. "It seems evident that you're wearing a wedding dress; have you eloped?"

His inquiry is quite underwhelming, and it's beginning to grate on my patience. I can’t handle father-son arrogance in a day. Attempting to suppress my frustration, I forcefully clear my throat and manage a smile while gazing at him. I can sense the warmth radiating onto my cheeks, causing me to grit my teeth.

"Does it involve one of those wealthy, conceited individuals, perhaps?" He introduces additional inquiries, causing me to let out a small gasp.

"One wealthy and arrogant," I reply, and his smile quickly fades. I believe he underestimated my willingness to respond to his inquiry. "I was there for business, and..." I let out a sigh as I made an effort to be as courteous as I could. "He was present for the theatrics."

“So, that’s from a fight?” He leans back, and I observe his colleagues, who appear perplexed by the topic of discussion.

"It was quite disappointing," I reply, and I notice a subtle smile forming on his face, hidden in the corners of his lips.

“Ms. William,” he says, and a wave of unease washes over me. I can't quite decipher whether it's anger or some kind of surprise to hear my name from him, but it's making me feel a bit uneasy. "It's quite unexpected to see you here, I must say. But I'm curious about the reason for your presence here today."

"I have a deep passion for my work. I thrive in environments that offer ample opportunities for efficiency. I was lucky enough to have a loving family who taught me the importance of self-reliance, shaping me into the confident and capable woman I am today. And with that being said, I understand that it requires a determined individual to pursue their dream life."

“What do you dream of?” He inquires, and I gaze at my palm in response.

"I aspire to become a resilient woman who seizes every life-altering chance, regardless of the difficulties and complexities that may arise. Someone who can serve as a role model for those in need of motivation in life. I keep my professional and personal lives separate, and I have confidence in my abilities." I nonchalantly shrugged as I finished my statement.

"Hmm," he leans forward once again and exhales. As one of the men attempts to speak, he abruptly silences him, leaving me feeling puzzled. “You can leave us,” he said, and they quickly collected the papers from the table, exchanging hushed words before departing.

“I’m sorry about..."

“If it were up to me, you wouldn’t make it on this list,” he interrupts me abruptly. “But I have to admit, you are interesting.”

“I don’t seek to be interesting; I am a diligent woman, and I desire acknowledgment for my hard work,” I state. "If given the opportunity, I have the capacity to persuade you."

“I am not doubting that, but I like it when my employees are sharp in every aspect. If you don’t mix your personal life with work, what are you doing here dressed like your personal problem?” He arches his eyebrows at me. I wish I could say your son is to blame, but I can't. I want to stay and, if possible, get the bigger picture; that would mean a punch in Liam’s belly.

“To be honest, I never thought I would make it to this selection either. That’s why I took the booking for this morning. I never even checked to see if I made it; my friend had to call to let me know." I explain myself to him.

“You see,” he says as he stands up, buttons up his coat, and takes a step to walk away. “I like to be taken seriously,” he said, and he started walking.

“I don’t expect you to understand,” I stated firmly, raising my voice. He halted his stride, looking at me over his left shoulder. “I don’t know about you as much as you know about me, but from the look of it, you don’t know the life I lead. What it feels like to miss out on even one booking. We are always on the clock, tying our very best to make it, and yes, still, because of those like you, previlaged ones, we are always toyed with, tossed aside if we can’t meet certain expectations." I move forward and let out a deep breath. “I don’t expect you to know anything about my life. You can’t understand that I need to make a living with every chance at hand." I shake my head as I take a deep breath. "I’m not asking or begging, but I am telling you, I am it.” I turn around and confidently walk away, leaving him behind in the exact spot where he stands. I picked up my backpack and departed, entrusting everything to the whims of fate. All I have at this point is fate. A heavens miracle.