by Claire Raye
“Oh, yes, yes. I’m so sorry. What can I help you with?”
“We are interested in having you come in for an interview.”
Before he can give me any details, I answer, with a far too desperate, “Yes.”
He chuckles a bit and then proceeds to ask me if it would be possible for me to come in today, giving me the time and the people I will be meeting with.
Shocked by the quickness, but still excited in general, I agree to an interview at two p.m. today. Not only is this amazing news because I haven’t been able to get an interview, it means I might get to extend my stay in Rockport a little bit longer.
Just as I’m about to confirm the time and hang up, the man on the other end adds, “Oh and Miss Summers, unfortunately the job you applied for is no longer available, and although you are probably over qualified, the only position we currently have available is for an assistant to the Vice President of Sales. Will that work for you?”
“Yes,” I answer quickly not caring one bit.
“We were impressed with your resume and since we are a rather large corporation, there should be room for advancement in the future.”
What this man doesn’t know is that I honestly don’t care. I just need a job at this point… anything to get me out of Eddington.
“Great,” I add, more than thrilled with any opportunity.
“Wonderful. We’ll see you today at two o’clock.”
“Thank you. I’m looking forward to it.”
I want to scream out loud, dance like an idiot, but over everything else I want to call Finn and tell him.
We talked quite a bit last night over dinner about my need to get out of Eddington and find a job. It isn’t just that I’m living with my parents, but that I feel useless. I have two degrees and I’m tending bar in my hometown.
After processing everything, I’ve now just realized I’m in Rockport with a couple of sweaters, a pair of jeans, some leggings and snow boots. I can’t go on a fucking job interview today. What the hell was I thinking?
I can hear someone moving about in the kitchen and I pray it’s Erin because I need her help right now. If it’s not her, I’m waking her up.
I haul ass into the kitchen, my bare feet sliding on the wood floor as I practically slide my way in there.
Ryan is sitting at the table with a cup of coffee and a bowl of oatmeal. Gross, I hate oatmeal. And Erin is pulling a stack of frozen pancakes from the microwave.
“Erin,” I practically shout as I find myself trying not to plow into her. “I need your help.” My words come out as more of a pleading whine than I planned. My excitement is now turning to anxiety. “I have a fucking job interview today,” I tell her, wanting to grab her and shake her because I need everyone in this room to understand the importance of this.
“Fucking finally,” Ryan shouts out, slamming his hands down on the table, but he’s totally making fun of me.
I turn to him, “Listen, you shithead, it’s not like I haven’t been trying.” I glare at him and he smiles back at me, giving me a nerdy thumbs up.
“What do you need?” Erin asks, ignoring Ryan’s smart-ass comment. “I should have something you can wear, but the shoes are probably going to be an issue.” She looks down at her feet and then mine, with hers clearly being much smaller.
She ushers me into her bedroom, leaving Ryan sitting at the table uninterested in all of it.
After sorting through Erin’s closet for at least an hour, the two of us finally settle on a black pencil skirt and a cream-colored short sleeve chiffon shirt and I breathe a sigh of relief. Even though I know her shoes won’t fit, I still try to cram my feet into her shoes.
“Erin,” I wail. “Why are your feet so tiny?”
“I don’t know. Why are yours so big?”
“They’re not. I wear a size eight. Yours are freakishly small!”
“Whatever,” she says dismissively and I begin to panic all over again. All I brought with me are a pair of snow boots, which won’t even look decent, let alone good, with what I’m wearing.
I stand in front of the full-length mirror in Erin and Ryan’s bedroom, examining my feet, which look like a five pound sausage crammed into a two pound casing, wondering if I can just suffer through. But with each shift of my feet, they grow redder and puffier.
I run my hand through my hair as I try to figure out just what the fuck I’m going to do. At this point my only option is to slip on the boots and stop along the way and hope I can find something.
I look over at Erin, my face in full on stressed-out mode and my thoughts scrambled. I don’t know why I can’t seem to pull it together. Normally this wouldn’t be a big deal, but I really want this job and this snafu is not what I need at the moment.
“Relax,” Erin says as she picks up her phone. “I’ll text Kelsey and see what size shoes she wears. Maybe hers aren’t so freakishly small.” She pauses and air quotes my words back to me and I flip her a quick middle finger, which makes her flip me off in return and laugh.
Erin’s phone chimes and she smiles.
“You’re all good, sweets. Head over to Kelsey’s, she’ll take care of you.”
When I pull into Kelsey’s driveway, she’s waiting by the front door with two pairs of heels in her hands: one deep red patent leather and the other basic black.
“Your choice,” she says, holding them out to me. “But personally, I’d go with the red.”
“Red it is,” I say, taking them from her hand and thanking her. “I owe you!” I yell as I slip the shoes on mid jog back to my car.
“Nope,” she says, kindly. “Good luck today.”
I climb back in my car, smiling and feeling pretty good about the interview and myself, but all of this has made me realize how much I miss having friends nearby. Most of my college friends are spread out across the country and anyone I was friends with in high school has long since left Eddington. Being with Erin and Kelsey over the last few days has been something I needed, and adding Finn to the mix has been a bonus.
Even though it is broad daylight and there’s a possibility I’ll blow our cover, I text Finn and tell him I’m stopping by the station to see him.
Me: You at the station?
Finn: Yep. Why?
Me: Ok if I stop by for a quick second?
Finn: Yeah. Everything ok?
Me: Yes. Pulling into the parking lot now
Finn meets me at the door, letting me in and taking me back to his office. The elderly lady manning the front desk gives me a kind smile and goes back to the scarf she’s knitting.
This place is literally like a scene from an idealized small town TV series just like Eddington. It’s a rare occurrence to have any sort of crime spree or murder happen so the station runs itself like a family owned business. Anyone can come in; there’s no high security, no officers checking people in, no bulletproof glass. Just someone’s grandma greeting people.
“What are you doing here?” Finn asks, and I catch a bit of excitement and nervousness in his tone.
“You ever see Jaws?” I ask, my question throwing him for an even bigger loop than me showing up here sort of unannounced.
“Of course. Who hasn’t?”
“She’s like your Polly,” I say, motioning to the front desk. “Did she give you the report about the kids karate-ing people’s picket fences?”
Finn laughs, and it’s deep, echoing in his small office. Something about the way the receptionist peeks in through his office window tells me his laugh is uncommon, that his seriousness is what he shows the world. It’s a side of him that most don’t get to see and I love it.
He shakes his head at me and again asks, “What are you doing here, Sarah? You just here to give me shit?”
“Nah, but it’s fun, isn’t it?” I wink at him and he smiles, his whole face lighting up, making my stomach feel like it’s filled with butterflies. He’s so fucking gorgeous, and even more so when he’s happy.
“Everything’s fun with you,” he says and I swear my heart stops for a second.
I almost forget why I’m even here, my face flushing and my heart beginning to race. Then Finn says, “You look really nice. Are you going somewhere?”
“I have a job interview in Boston in a few hours.”
“Seriously? That’s amazing news.” And again I see his face light up like he’s genuinely happy for me. He takes a step toward me, and then stops, pausing momentarily as if he’s debating something and then he pulls me into his arms. He leans down and kisses me hard, but it isn’t desperate or needy. What radiates from his kiss is his excitement.
“Congratulations,” he whispers, his forehead resting against mine. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.
“Thank you,” I murmur back. If he’s this supportive and excited about my interview, I can only imagine how he’ll be if I actually land this job. “I’m going to head to Boston in just a bit, but I wanted to stop by and tell you.”
“I’m glad you did.”
Three hours later, I’m on my way back to Rockport and while the interview went well, I have no idea how they felt about me. Every single person I interviewed with had the best poker face and I couldn’t get a read on any of them. The only problem I noticed was the man I would be working for wouldn’t stop looking at my boobs. He was in his late thirties, good-looking, but not nearly as good-looking as he thinks. A pretty boy, who, at one time or another probably played lacrosse or rugby, lived in a frat house and thought far too highly of himself. And when his eyes dragged up my legs, I felt a strange feeling form in my stomach. There was something about the way he so blatantly checked me out that made me a little uncomfortable.
Nothing I can’t handle though. Working in a bar for the last six months is great training for dealing with assholes and unwanted advances.
I grab my phone from my purse and send Finn a quick text to let him know I’m on my way back.
Me: On my way home and I’m wearing four inch red heels. Wanna fuck me in them later???
Finn: YES! And are you driving right now?
Me: Yep
Finn: STOP TEXTING ME!!!
I laugh at his shouty caps and instead of texting him back, I call him and he picks up on the first ring.
“Hi, baby,” he says and it makes my heart melt.
“Hi.”
“How’d the interview go?”
“Pretty good, I think. I couldn’t really tell what they were thinking, but I interviewed for almost two hours, so I think that’s a good sign.”
“Seems to be,” he says, sounding distracted.
“What are you doing?”
“Writing out a ticket to the same kid I caught speeding last weekend.” I can hear the annoyance in his tone and I know it’s not directed at me, but I let him go anyway.
“I’ll see you when I get back,” I say and he chuckles a bit and I know he’s smiling.
“Make sure you’re wearing those heels.”
My phone rings seconds after hanging up with Finn and I smile. He must be done with that ticket, but I still check the screen before answering.
It’s a Boston area code and I don’t recognize the number.
“Hello,” I say.
“Is this Sarah Summers?”
“It is.”
“Hi, Sarah, this is Andrew McGuire with Bolton and Fisher, you interviewed with me just a little while ago.” I recognize his voice before he even introduces himself. It’s the guy I’d be working for, the one with the roaming eyes.
“Oh, yes, hi, Mr. McGuire.”
“So, Sarah, I was very impressed with your portfolio and your interview skills. Your resume is impeccable and so are your references.”
“Thank you,” I respond, but I feel my heart rate increase and palms begin to sweat. Who calls only minutes after an interview? This is either a really good thing or a really bad thing. I’m praying for the former.
“I’d like to offer you the job as my assistant.”
“Okay,” I say, but my voice shakes a little and I’m not sure I’m articulating exactly what I should be.
“Okay, so you’ll take the job?”
“Yes, absolutely yes.” My voice is high and I’m not paying attention to what I’m doing and I blow past my exit. “Shit,” I mumble and quickly apologize. “Sorry, sorry, Mr. McGuire. I’m just so excited and I missed my exit.”
“No problem, Sarah,” he says, but his tone is coming across far less formal than it did at the beginning of the call. “I think we’re going to get along really well.” And this time, I swear I hear more of a seductive tone to his voice and it makes me shudder a bit. I really can’t imagine someone in the role he’s in being anything but professional, so I brush it off.
“Okay,” I say. “When do you need me to start?”
He laughs a little and says, “Tomorrow, but not really. Honestly, a week from Monday. You’ll be getting an email with your offer letter and your benefits package. If everything looks good, just e-sign it and send it back. If there’s anything you would like negotiate on, salary, vacation time, whatever, just let me know and I’m sure we can work something out.”
“Oh, I don’t think there will be any issue, but I’ll take a look and get back to you soon.”
“Sounds good. I’ll see you soon.”
“Yes, and Mr. McGuire, thank you so much for this opportunity. I promise, you will not be disappointed.”
“I’m certain I won’t, Sarah.”
As soon as I hang up I call Finn.
“I thought I told you I was busy?” he questions with a humorous tone to his voice.
“No you didn’t,” I shoot back. “You just sounded distracted. Never mentioned that you were busy.”
“Well, I am,” he says and I giggle. “Fuck, even over the phone you’re sexy as hell. Everything okay?”
“Great, actually. Guess what?”
“What, Sarah,” he says playfully.
“I got the job!” I practically scream down the phone, so excited and I know it’s finally settling in as I say the words out loud.
“Oh my god, baby, that’s so awesome. Congratulations,” he says and I can almost picture the smile on his face. “We’re going to celebrate tonight.”
“Sounds amazing,” I say, and I can’t stop the smile that forms on my mouth. “I need to get something to wear. I have like three outfits. I borrowed something from Erin to wear to the interview and pretty much everything I brought with me is dirty.”
“You know, I do have a washing machine and one of those clothes dryers,” Finn says, sarcastically.
“You’re cheeky,” I respond back, playfully. “Not sure if you know this or not, but girls like to shop.”
“I’ll see you soon, baby.”
“Yay!” I yell just as Finn is about to hang up and I hear him laugh. This day couldn’t get any better.
Next, I call Erin and tell her the great news and she suggests we have dinner tonight to celebrate. It’s already getting late, as my commute back is taking longer than I thought, and Erin says she’ll call Beck, Kelsey and Finn and invite them for dinner. I give her the okay, but let her know I’m still an hour outside of Rockport.
When I pull in the driveway, Beck’s SUV is already parked on the street outside Erin and Ryan’s house, but Finn’s is nowhere to be seen and I begin to wonder if he’s not going to be here. I know his job keeps him at the station late, but I thought he’d want to celebrate with everyone too.
As I’m exiting my car, he pulls up behind me, parking in the driveway.
“Sarah,” he calls, but his voice is quieter, nearly a whisper. He jogs up the driveway and in the dim house lights, he pulls me in for a kiss, whispering, “Congratulations, I’m really proud of you.”
“Thank you.”
We make our way to the front door, and Finn falls behind me for a second and I stop, looking back at him.
; “What?” I ask.
“Fuck, you in those shoes.”
“I thought we established that you’re going to fuck me in these shoes later.” I wet my lips, moving close to him, I run my hand across the bulge in his pants.
I leave Finn standing there just as the front door swings open and my brother yells out, “What took you so long? Hurry up, the food’s getting cold.”
Erin steps around Ryan swatting at him with her hand and telling him to go back in the kitchen as she says, “I didn’t realize you two were coming together.” A devious look on her face.
Nice pun, bitch.
I glare at her for a second before my brother walks back in the room, and I immediately become straight-faced not wanting to give anything away. And even though I just gave Erin the stink eye, I need to give her props later for the great word play.
Chapter Six
Finn
I’m not even in the house and already I know tonight is going to be an exercise in restraint and self-control. It might be easier if Sarah wasn’t dressed in a tight skirt and those fucking shoes, but in reality she could be wearing a canvas sack and I’d still want her.
“Finn,” Erin says, grinning widely as she leans up and gives me a kiss on the cheek.
And just like that, the self-control thing doesn’t seem so hard after all. I’d forgotten Erin had guessed what had been happening between me and Sarah and I can only hope it’s not so obvious that everyone else knows too.
“Erin,” I say through gritted teeth as I turn and shake Ryan’s hand, not missing the giggle that escapes her mouth.
We head inside, greeting Beck and Kelsey who are already waiting. Someone pops a bottle of champagne and glasses are handed around.
“To Sarah,” Ryan says, looking at her affectionately as he wraps an arm around her shoulders. “For finally getting a job and actually being able to move out of our parents’ home.”
“Fuck off,” she mumbles, elbowing him in the ribs.
Ryan grins down at her and it’s obvious he’s only teasing, that he means it when he says he’s proud of her and he knew this day would come. Sarah is beaming at his words, her eyes briefly flicking to mine as everyone repeats their congratulations.
