Finding Tomorrow, A sexy, angsty, suspense filled, all-the-feels protector romance and HEA.: A Trading Yesterday Novel
Page 4
“Seriously, do you think he’ll hire her instead of you? Mick asked.
“Nah,” I threw out, walking up to the vendor and concentrating on the menu. I shook my head. It didn’t matter how gorgeous she was, or that she was the first woman to make me do a double take in months; there was no way I was letting some woman from some obscure market steal my job.
No. Fucking. Way.
MISSY
It was another new beginning. Maybe the third time would be the charm. At least, I hoped so.
My mind had been racing during the entire flight to Atlanta, turning various interview questions over in my mind as I tried to prepare. This was the first significant job I was applying for since my divorce. After two months in Tallahassee, Derrick’s threats and stalker tendencies had frightened my mother, so at her suggestion, I’d taken Dylan and fled to Jackson Hole, Wyoming, where we’d lived with my brother, Ben, ever since.
The wide-open spaces of Wyoming suited my big brother, and he knew everyone in town; including the local law enforcement officials. I felt safe there, and by some miracle, Derrick left us alone. I was even able to get a divorce reasonably quickly after only ninety days in the state due to the divorce laws in Wyoming, and the bevy of pictures I’d taken of the various injuries Derrick had inflicted throughout our marriage had sealed the deal. My ex-husband didn’t even show up at court to contest custody of our son; sending his sleazy attorney in his stead.
Jackson Hole was uncomplicated, and Dylan had adjusted well, but recently my mother was having issues with her balance, and neither Ben or I could convince her to move to Wyoming. Atlanta wasn’t exactly her backyard, but I hoped that if I could land this job with ESPN, it would persuade her to join me there. I wasn’t above leveraging her grandson against her if needed. For the first time, I had hope for a new life on my own.
Atlanta was a lot closer to Dallas but given Derrick’s previous acquiescence and the time that had passed, I prayed a new move would be uneventful. There would always be an underlying concern he could cause trouble, but I was more anxious about the interview in front of me. This job was mostly production behind the scenes, which I needed to stay under the radar. It would be perfect.
Even though I was confident in my degree and references, ESPN was a huge step up from the local FOX affiliate in Dallas, and I was sure candidates were applying from all over the U.S. I had to be on top of my game for this interview if I had any chance at all.
The yellow cab I’d taken from the hotel pulled away as I walked through the glass doors of the gleaming ESPN building. I inhaled deeply to calm my nerves and smoothed back the sides of the sleek chignon I’d chosen for the occasion. My charcoal grey suit was new, but modest and inexpensive: paired with new matching pumps and a light coral and grey blouse.
I squared my shoulders and walked up to the receptionist desk on the main floor, carrying my old black briefcase and handbag. I was a bit self-conscious that the bag didn’t match my shoes, but I’d spent a good portion of my savings on the outfit, and I couldn’t afford a new briefcase. Luckily, ESPN picked up the expense of the hotel and flight. The lobby was bustling, and I walked past two security guards positioned just inside the doors, pasting a bright smile on my face; consciously exuding confidence I didn’t feel.
A young girl was sitting behind a round sort of desk in the middle of the polished marble floor, and I determined she was my first stop. She was wearing a small headset with a microphone coming down from the right side to position in front of her mouth. Her smile was pleasant as I approached. “Hello. May I help you?”
“Good morning. My name is Melissa Ellington. I have a 9 AM appointment with Mr. Walsh.”
She quickly looked at her computer screen, and then glanced up. “Yes, here you are. Just one moment please.” She held up a finger and pushed a button on the phone. “Good morning, Mr. Walsh. Melissa Ellington is here to see you. Yes, sir.”
I glanced around at the men and women coming in and out of the building, walking through the lobby and waiting at the silver doors of the four elevators that would take them up to one of the seven floors. Almost all of them were either looking at their phones or already speaking on them.
This was a busy place. Many of the people were in expensive suits with perfectly coiffed hair, while several others were more casually dressed. Some could have been described as scruffy, and I guessed these were production staffers. I remembered from my anchor position for the primetime news in Dallas that many of the camera people had a decidedly less polished appearance than the on-air staff; especially those who had to lug equipment around on location. I recognized some of the ESPN on-air personalities, even though if I was honest, I wasn’t much of a sports fan. My brother loved sports, especially football, though, and I’d made it a point to binge watch the network in preparation for this interview.
Several people glanced at me curiously, appraising my appearance in the competitive and curious way many women do. Several men stopped to cast appreciative glances in my direction, and I bristled. I was still uncomfortable and wary, wondering if I’d ever get over the fear. I had to shake it off because one thing was certain; I wouldn’t fall for a handsome face, flattery, or smooth talk, ever again. That lesson was well learned.
I swallowed, hardening my resolve to never be prey to someone like Derrick ever again. They could size me up all they wanted, but on my intellect, not my looks. I stood up a bit taller and focused my attention back on the receptionist sitting behind the desk. I was a professional, and my mission was to get this job, not worry about what others were thinking about me.
“Mr. Walsh will be down in a few minutes, Ms. Ellington.” She gestured to a small waiting area situated against one of the windows on the far side of the lobby. “Please take a seat. He’ll be right with you.”
I thanked her and made my way across several yards of the shiny floor to the arrangement of sofas tables and upholstered chairs. It was across from the short hallway that housed the elevator shafts. I sat down, carefully placing my briefcase and bag in the chair next to me, smoothing down the fabric of my pencil skirt.
The walls that weren’t exterior windows were covered in larger than life photos of the on-air personalities, anchors and correspondents, in clusters with their show logos above them. NFL, NBA, MLB, golf, hockey; my eyes skittered across them, and then looked around the lobby to see if I recognized any of their faces. A couple of them were vaguely familiar, but no one I could place directly. Briefly, I registered that much of the programming was recorded in Los Angeles or Bristol, Connecticut, and that would explain much. I’d done my research; the traveling correspondents domiciled in Atlanta, and where most of features were produced here.
I was startled out of my thoughts as an attractive and slender woman with shoulder-length red hair, and bright green eyes walked up. She was in her thirties, maybe, and dressed in a short-sleeved dress in a light lavender color, making me even more acutely aware of the temperature difference between Atlanta and Jackson Hole. My jacket over my long-sleeved blouse was overly warm, and I silently prayed I’d get through my appointment without my makeup melting off my face.
“Ms. Ellington?” She asked warmly, a soft smile crossing her pleasant features.
I nodded and stood as she extended her hand. “Yes.” I nodded, accepting her handshake.
“I’m Cindy Wells, the staff supervisor for production. Mr. Walsh asked me to escort you up to his office. How are you enjoying Atlanta so far?” She asked as I gathered my things and began to walk with her toward the elevators.
“Oh.” I smiled guiltily. “To be honest, I haven’t seen that much of it yet, but I love the weather.”
The elevator doors opened, and we stepped inside with five others. Miss Wells pressed the button for the seventh floor, as well as the third and fourth that other people requested.
A bit of small talk later, I learned that the woman was a native of Atlanta and had worked with ESPN since she’d graduated from Georgia State.
“Tracey, this is Melissa Ellington. She’s Mr. Walsh’s nine o’clock.” Cindy shook my hand again. “Good luck! I’ll see you again when the interview concludes.”
“Thank you.” She turned and retraced the distance we’d just come from the elevators.
“Follow me,” Tracey said, happily, and walked the twenty feet to the large cherry wood door, giving it a knock then quickly pushing it open. I wondered why she didn’t use the intercom, but I was grateful to get the interview underway. “Bryan, uh…” she stammered with a coy grin and shrug. “I mean, Mr. Walsh? Melissa Ellington is here for her appointment.”
“Yes, yes. Bring her in, Tracey,” his deep voice called from within the office.
“Right this way,” she ushered me through the heavy door. The room was huge; much bigger than I would have imagined, and the imposing desk several yards inside. I followed Tracey inside. “Here we are.”
“Hello. I’m Melissa Ellington,” I nodded a greeting to the middle-aged man who was rising and coming around the desk to shake my hand. He was handsome and distinguished, with just a touch of grey starting in his dark hair at the temples and dressed impeccably.
“Nice to meet you. Have a seat. Would you like any water or coffee? Coke?” He indicated a chair in front of his desk.
“Thank you, Mr. Walsh. Water would be nice.”
“Fine. Fine. I’ll have black coffee, Tracey.” The man nodded at his secretary, and she calmly left the office to do his bidding.
I sat my briefcase and purse at my feet, sitting up straight.
After Tracey had brought in the beverages, the interview commenced pretty uneventfully, though I couldn’t get a gauge on what he thought of me as I recounted my experience and education. Mr. Walsh asked basic interview questions about my strengths and what I thought I could bring to the network. I gave detail of my background beyond the anchor desk, but also reporting and research.
“Why do you really want this job?” Mr. Walsh asked frankly, sitting back in his chair, waiting for my answer.
“Well,” I began. “The obvious reason is that ESPN is a large and respected network and I’m hoping that if I do well and prove my worth, I’ll get promoted.”
His eyes narrowed. “Sure, that’s an answer. But what’s the underlying reason? What drives you? Yes, ESPN is big and reputable, but I run my team as a separate entity. I like to get to know my staff personally. I find that it makes for a more cohesive working arrangement,” he continued.
The hairs on my arms stood up as goose bumps raced across my skin; a programmed response my body took whenever I felt threatened. What did Mr. Walsh mean; get to know his staff personally? How personally? I realized that I didn’t have to disclose anything personal if I didn’t want to.
“In what way?” I asked cautiously. I wanted this job, but not if he was implying something improper.
He cleared his throat. “In that, if someone is sick or can’t do their shift for some reason, the staff know each other well enough to reach out if needed and should be willing to cover for each other in return. I find that I can avoid attrition if I cultivate an atmosphere of friendship and teamwork. We’re a close-knit group and on a first name basis. The network regularly hosts training camps and team-building activities.”
“Oh.” I took a slow, deep breath of relief. “Well,” I hesitated.
“Look, Melissa. You’re well qualified, no question, but this is a team, and we all need to work well together. I want to know what makes you tick so I can tell whether you’ll fit in.”
“Yes, sir.” It appeared his interest was sincere, and I could see that it wasn’t about me; it was about the workings of his staff. “I understand.”
“What is your personality like?”
“I’m willing to work with anyone and do more than my share, but I tend to keep to myself.” I saw him stiffen. This was not a good sign, but I wasn’t going to lie. “I’ll be professional and focused.” Several photos lined the bookcase behind his desk, which I hoped would help my case. Clearly, he would understand being motivated by family obligations. “But to answer your earlier question; my son is my motivation. I’m a single mother, and I need a position that has the potential to grow over time; with hard work. To put it bluntly; my ex-husband does not take an active or financial role in raising him. It’s all on me.”
“I see.” His eyes narrowed as if he was thinking something over. “How old is he, Melissa?”
“Just six and a half.” I swallowed at the emotions trying to overtake me. Talking about Dylan made me emotional. “He starts first grade in the fall, and I’m hoping to get him settled in a school district for good.”
He studied me before responding. “Will you have any help at all? This job will require relocating to Bristol, Connecticut. There will be some late nights, weekends, and a bit of traveling. Or, we have considered allowing the person to commute from Atlanta once a week, on Sunday, to Monday.”
“That would work out better for me, Mr. Walsh. If I’m lucky enough to get an offer, I’m hoping to persuade my mother to move to Atlanta from Tallahassee. I’m almost certain she will agree because he is her only grandchild, but if not, I’ll figure it out.” I had no choice. I needed this job. “I promise, if you give me this chance, I won’t let you down. I’m looking to provide Dylan with a better future.” The best way to negotiate was from a position of strength, but I was feeling more desperate than I wanted to let on. “A long-term relationship with ESPN is my goal.”
His thumb and index finger were plucking at his eyebrow as he contemplated my words. “I see. I admire your dedication to your son and your commitment to a good work ethic. I also appreciate your honesty. In that vein, I feel I have to be honest, as well. I have a strong internal candidate who has a lot of experience at ESPN. While your qualifications are impressive, he has been with us for several years. In fact, he is the reason I even considered letting the position commute because he has strong ties in Atlanta.”
My heart fell. There was no chance I’d land this job over someone like that. “I see.” I sat in my chair unmoving, uncertain what I should do next. Would he fly me here just to waste my time?
“His job will be open if he’s offered this position. It’s not entry level, and it will give you some good experience with the network. Would you be open at all?”
“In Atlanta?” I asked.
He nodded. “With some traveling.”
“Depending what it is, yes.”
“Segment and on-site sportscaster; mainly for the NFL at the moment, but it could eventually work up to anchor for Sports Center prime-time.”
It was a great opportunity, and under normal circumstances, I’d jump at it, but a position so visible wasn’t ideal. Sports Center was “the” show to aspire to at ESPN, but why wasn’t this mystery man after it?
I wanted to groan aloud. “I’d love to take it, but if at all possible, I’d prefer something behind the scenes.”
“But why? It would suit your experience perfectly and allow me to make an immediate offer.”
“It’s personal,” I blurted, feeling flustered. There was no way Mr. Walsh would be open to hiring me if I spilled my past troubles with Derrick, or how a visible position might stir up his stalker tendencies. It wasn’t a risk I wanted to take; Derrick finding out my new location or sharing too much of my personal problems with a potential new boss. I’d never get the job if he knew about Derrick’s psychotic tendencies. “What about an assistant to the producer position?” I asked hopefully.
He shook his head. “You’re o
verqualified for that, I’m afraid, and it’s possible that eventually you’d become unhappy and want to leave and that isn’t prudent for the network.”
My hands had been resting in my lap, and I threaded them together to keep from wringing them. “I understand, sir. I want to come to work here, but I’m not sure about being in front of the camera.” Until I could be sure what the job involved, how could I make a decision?
Mr. Walsh took a drink from his coffee cup, his stern brow furrowed. Clearly, he was mistaking my hesitation for stage fright. “Why don’t we do this? I’ll have Cindy give you a tour of the talent department and introduce you around. If you feel like you can seriously consider it, we’ll put you up for a couple of days, and you can get a feel for the job, okay?”
It sounded reasonable, though it would mean calling Ben and making sure he was willing to watch Dylan for a few more days. Whatever position I landed, working at this network was a dream job.
“That sounds amazing. Thank you, Mr. Walsh.”
“Good.” He smiled and nodded his head, reaching for his phone, pushing a single button on it. “Tracey? Can you get Cindy back in here, please?”
JENSEN
I bought a black coffee for both of us, and a whole-wheat bagel with cream cheese for myself. I handed Mick a cup and then paid the vendor as he took off to join his camera crew, who were already waiting with the van. “See ya! Have a good flight,” I called after him.”
“Thanks! Let me know what happens with the hottie!” he returned, climbing inside the waiting vehicle.
I took a big bite of my breakfast, walking briskly back into the office building and up the elevator into my office. Hopefully, nothing would happen with this new applicant. I hadn’t dated anyone seriously since Teagan and I split. A casual date or one-night stand here or there didn’t count. In any other circumstances I’d be chomping at the bit to meet a woman that beautiful, but now, I just wanted her to go away so I could get on with my promotion. She was the competition, no matter how beautiful.