by E. Walsh
“I'd love to schedule an interview.” Her response was flawless.
“Great. I'd like to set you up sometime this afternoon. Can you come in at 3?” It was one. She couldn't say no, but she'd have to take a huge risk and walk out. Could she get back on her feet if she didn't get the job? She wasn't sure that she could. Between them both, they barely had enough money for the bills, much less everything else.
“Yes. I'll be there.” As soon as she hung up, she ran into the kitchen to tell Annie. Everyone was looking at her like she had gone psychotic. She was covered in mud and red gunk from head to toe. There was a huge chunk stuck in her hair. Her wild eyes reminded Annie of straightjackets and happy pills.
“Oh my god, Amber. What happened to you?”
“He made me clean up some SHIT in the bathroom then I got a call from the firm and I have an appointment in an hour.”
“You're walking out,” Annie asked in a whisper.
“Fuck yeah!”
“Well I gotta stay. You be careful and put in some more resumes too.” She wasn't as supportive as Amber would've wanted, she was a bit disappointed, but she kind of understood. It stung, but she had to make her way out. When she made her way out the door, she took a slab of mud and threw it at Daniel's back. He ran after her, but by the time he got onto the pavement, she was peeling out into the street with her middle finger out the window.
Annie was trying not to laugh when he walked into the kitchen and gave her the look of death.
“Boy you need to remember that she's not me and I'm not her. I'm here and plan to stay. Are we understood?”
“Of course.” He was holding his shirt under the kitchen faucet with his exposed beer belly sticking into the dish water.
* * *
Chapter 4
Amber had the mud washed out of her hair, a curling iron and a round brush in her hand. Her cat eyes were drawn on meticulously and she'd shadowed her lids with a perfect mix of black and silver. She'd taken at least twenty minutes perfecting her concealer, foundation and powder. Her cheeks were expertly contrasted and highlighted to give her face the perfect frame. She'd chosen her favorite dark purple lipstick with a tight black dress that was sexy enough to draw attention, but conservative enough to be appropriate of the interview. When it came to shoes, though, she didn't hold back one bit. They were black, open-toed leather pumps that made her look like she was at least 4 inches taller. It gave her a formidable and said that she could handle things with both grace and poise. Good shoes say a lot about women, and Amber always made sure she left a good impression when she went to an interview.
She could walk in them like a dancer. She could run and fly if she wanted to, and it showed when she walked into the white tiled building with her heels clicking. The receptionist looked up and smiled.
“Can I help you?”
“Yes. My name is Amber Cordo—.”
“Right this way,” the seasoned professional didn't waste any time directing her to the lift. When Amber got in she pressed the number eleven, sending her flying to the top floor.
She could feel her heart racing. What was this? The top floor!? Would she be working with Mr. Sherman directly. She didn't know what to think about it, but she wasn't ready for this. She didn't even remember to bring a copy of her resume. Just a few minutes ago, she'd been on her hands and knees, covered in mud, scrubbing a bathroom floor, now she was about to interview for a serious position at a brokerage firm.
Amber had always been the composed one. She'd always known what to do, but when that door opened and she was standing in the black marble, executive reception area, she found that she was completely breathless. She was in over her head and it was clear.
A woman in a tight gray dress, with her hair in a bun walked up to her. She looked like a model.
“Can I offer you a water?” It was such a strange question. It was a test. She'd heard about this before. If she took the water, they would think that she was there to take from the company, but if she said no, they would think that she was there to work for the company. At the same time, the company could be looking for somebody who had personal ambition and didn't mind going for what they wanted.
“Sure.” The woman walked over to behind the dark cherry wood counter and grabbed a water from a small refrigerator. She held onto it and waited.
“Mr. Sherman will meet with you now.” She almost had a stroke. She was about to meet the most powerful man in the state. They would be alone together and he would be watching her closely, testing her and trying to decide whether or not she would be an asset to him.
She felt vulnerable. The room was cold and her arms were bare. The woman was staring directly at her. They were trying to put pressure on her, racing her through to his office. They wanted to see if she crumbled under pressure. She was completely humbled. She wanted to curl up in a ball and leave the world behind.
When they opened the wooden door to the office, and left her there she thought she was alone. The room was pitch black except for a tiny line of light seeping in through the curtains at the back. She couldn't see anything. It was the scariest thing that she'd ever seen. Her skin was tingling and her stomach was spinning around. What were they doing? This was all a game. They were testing her reactions.
“Ms. Cordova?”
“Miss Cordova.”
“Miss Cordova, what are you doing just standing there?” There was a deep laughter coming from the back of the room. She realized he was sitting in the dark.
“Sorry.” She jumped into the chair in front of the desk.
“Never apologize.” His stern command terrified her.
“Of course.”
“You have an impressive resume. You strike me as an intelligent individual, but I don't see how you could possibly be an asset to the firm.” It wasn't a question it was a statement.
“If you didn't know, then why would you ask me here?” It was the only response she could think of. He wanted something better, but that was all she could think of.
He tapped his fingers on the desk. Was he dissatisfied? Would she be ushered out? Why were they sitting in the dark? It bothered her a lot. That must've been why.
“I work well under pressure, I have an uncanny ability to find the right companies, companies that are going places and bringing in the cash, and Mr. Sherm—.”
“Call me Ricky.”
“Ricky, I know how to sell. Like you, I know how to really get a sense for people, their motivations, their weaknesses and what they want.” He cleared his throat. It was a good sign. Her voice was confident, and she knew she was starting to find her groove.
“I don't trust it. I need to see it. You're going to be on a temporary basis. If I choose to keep you on, you will replace my current receptionist until you can prove your worth as a broker.” Every time he stopped talking, he stayed as silent as he possibly could. It was an interrogation technique that drove her to respond while adding just enough pressure to get her to say the wrong thing. She knew exactly what he was doing, but he had this fierce fire running through his voice that seemed to strengthen the effect. He loved every second of it. He was the kind of man that played with people. It was infuriating.
She tried not to respond, but he took his time. She simply added, “I think I'll enjoy working with you, Ricky.” They weren't on a first name basis. He was trying to make her feel uncomfortable, and it was working. She shifted in her chair and the sound of the fabric rustling echoed through the room. It must've been built to have that effect. It wasn't very large. He'd thought out every single detail.
“Are you sure you work well under pressure.”
“Quite sure.”
“It doesn't sound like it. You seem … nervous. May I ask why?”
“I'm sitting in the dark.”
“It puts you at a disadvantage.” He tried to add in an awkward silence, but she had a trick of her own.
“You're a very intelligent man, Ricky.” He laughed. She'd shown poise and grace with her comm
ent. The flattery would stroke his ego and point out that she understood what he was doing.
“You may go.”
She walked out of the room quickly and closed the door. The receptionist looked at her with a compassionate stare. She looked like she used to be very beautiful when she was younger she wasn't that old, but her hair was lost its sheen and there were dark circles under her eyes. She walked over and ushered the girl over to her new area.
“I'm not allowed to show you anything. He says you have to feel out the situation and learn by your own mistakes, but he likes everything a certain way. Your clerical duties will be lined out for you, but everything else—
“Isn't this strictly clerical?”
“You'll see. The other stuff you'll just have to get used to.”
“He's going to haze me, isn't he?”
“No. It's just how he is.”
“So he's spoiled.” The receptionist looked offended.
“Ricky is a self-made man who works tirelessly. He's a genuinely good guy.”
* * *
Chapter 5
“I HATE HIM, Annie!” Amber was pacing around the kitchen table manically, avoiding her dinner of fish and greens. It was her favorite, but she was far too nervous to eat. She didn't know if she wanted to even go in. She hadn't seen his face, but it was burned into the back of her brain. Every single time she thought about him, she thought she was going to explode.
“How bad could he be?”
“He's toying with me. He's going to give me the worst time possible until I crack. It's hopeless.”
“It can't be entirely hopeless. He didn't just create the position to fuck with you.”
“I'm not entirely sure about that.”
“The receptionist said that she liked him. He might be a good guy.” Annie took a big bite of greens. She was jealous. She hadn't gotten a call yet. She wasn't going to get the position.
Amber caught her sister looking down at her plate and pounce. “Trust me, Annie. You're lucky.”
*
Amber's alarm went off at six o'clock in the morning sharp, just like every other day. It was the first time in a long time that she hit the snooze button more than once, but she wasn't ashamed of it one bit. She needed that extra rest to deal with what was coming. If that sadistic prick thought he’s going to catch her off guard, he was wrong.
She had the perfect purple number, at tight mini-dress that rose just above the knees. It didn't show much cleavage, but what it did show was enough to draw his attention away from her eyes. Her purple pumps were higher than she was normally used to. Her makeup was perfect and her hair took almost an hour.
When she walked into the black marble reception area, the receptionist looked at her like she was a lamb ready for the slaughter. She could feel her body getting tense. What was she supposed to do? The receptionist seemed to be waiting for something. She figured the only safe position would be at her desk.
As soon as she took her place, Ricky walked into the door wearing a white dress shirt opened up at the top. He was holding a wet navy blue jacket and standing at the door staring at her.
“What should you be doing?”
“Nobody told me.” Her response was very matter of fact.
“Coffee, jacket, newspaper.” He strode into his office with a sigh before she could handle either affair. She got up to get his coffee, and the receptionist looked at her like she was about to fall off a cliff.
“Tell me.” She figured the best way to handle this was to cut through the bullshit.
“Alright.” The receptionist pulled a food thermometer out of her desk drawer and handed it to her. “He wants it under 100 and above 90. never make it exactly 100 or 90. he will know if it is.” She handed her a set of measuring spoons. “Put in 1 teaspoon of Irish cream, 1 tablespoon of brandy and half an ice cube.”
“Why would he want an ice cube if he wants me to make it at a specific temperature. Wait never mind. Was that prick really going to make me run back and forth till I got to the right temperature.” The receptionist had that compassionate look again. “Oh, you're gonna train me, and I'm going to get him his coffee my way.”
“Careful now. He'll kick you out.”
“He needs to learn to put up with me.”
“You know, I never got the position as broker and he said I was the best one.”
“Then I'll stay till I find something else.”
“It's good here, Amber.” The woman turned back to her work while Amber ran to the break room.
She found the coffee pot, creamers, brandy, a coffee cup, and the ice and brought them in on a silver platter with the food thermometer in her teeth.
“One moment Bob.” He dropped the phone on his desk when she walked in with a defiant look on her face. “What th—
“No. Just no.” She set the whole thing down on his desk along with the food thermometer and shook her butt as she walked out the door.
The receptionist was trying to stifle a giggle, but it came out in an explosion of laughter. “It was nice knowing you sweetie. That was so awesome. I don't think anyone has ever tried to do that before.”
“It was worth it.”
Ricky walked out of the office with his hands folded in front and his eyebrows raised. She didn't mind. She could find a job at another firm and work at a restaurant in the meantime. She wasn't going to put up with this shit so that she could be a receptionist. She wasn't so sure about it when he was standing over her. He could've offered her the world.
“Alright, Amber. I think we'll get you an itinerary for the day. First things first, I want you to spend the next fifteen minutes fucking yourself.” The receptionist was having a heart attack. He curled his finger in front of her face and said, “And I expect you to dig deep.” Both girls burst out laughing and Ricky waited patiently for them to stop before giving her a long list of exact instructions. He was fair. Nothing was out of line. He'd been testing her. She had to get lunch, and he was particular about what he ate. It was clear that he was avoiding carbs, adding in a lot of fiber and packing on the protein. She decided to remember that.
She ran around all day, with a strict schedule programmed into her phone, handling menial tasks simply meant to satisfy his personal whims. He needed the things that she was getting, but she had a feeling that he could easily get somebody else to do these things and pay them quite a bit less. He wanted to see if she minded the little things, and she didn't so long as they were reasonable.
When she walked back to the office, loaded up with boxes of dry cleaning, food and other various items, the receptionist began taking her load and putting the things in their proper places. She watched her closely so she could get a handle of the arrangement later on.
Ricky's voice came over the loudspeaker. “Amber?”
She walked into his office once the receptionist had taken all of the boxes. She took her time. She wanted this man to know that she wasn't about to bow to his every whim. She wasn't the receptionist type. She had a brain and she was there to use it.
He looked up when she walked in. He liked to do that thing where he was on the phone doing something more important. He put up his finger and motioned towards a chair.
“Uh huh. I agree. I think the Chinese vase will go better in the foyer. If you could have it taken to the service entrance that would be perfect. So how's the wife.” It was mindless banter. She didn't even think he was talking to somebody. He was toying with her. She always felt vulnerable in his office He was a predator. He played off of people's anxiety and fear. It gave him a thrill and she had to maintain her confidence with him. She sat down in the chair and pulled out her phone.
“Alright, Carlos. I've gotta handle something really quick. I'll speak to you in a while.” By the time he'd hung up the phone, she was too engrossed in a mobile game to bother looking up. “Amber?”
She kept playing as long as she could, but she was starting to get afraid of what would happen so she put her phone down.
“Anything interesting on there?”
“I'm almost to level two.” She was trying to see how red his face could get. It was wonderful to see the way his lip curled up when he was mad.
“You're coming to a dinner party tonight. It's strictly professional, but I want to see how you are around the brokers. Can you behave yourself?” Amber giggled.
“Of course.”
“Great. I'll see you in a few hours when you're ready. I'll text you the address.”
* * *
Chapter 6
It happened when she stopped at the store to pick up some things for the place. She was standing under the fluorescents, trying to decide if she wanted the new body wash or her favorite one, when she started to feel cold all over. She was sweating and her head felt like it had been crushed by a piano. She ran outside to the parking lot and lost every bit of food she'd eaten in the last week. Her stomach didn't stop convulsing for what seemed like a year, and it was a chore just to get back to the car.
Somehow she made it home. She looked in her car's mirror and saw that she was a bright shade of white and her entire face was covered in sweat. She could just sit down and wear a bit of makeup to cover the color. She had to go. If she didn't, it could be the last straw. He would fire her; she knew he would. She wanted to stay. That was when she knew that she was really in it for the long haul. She had to find a way. This could be her best chance for the career she'd always wanted. She couldn't let a little fever get in the way of things.
She sat in the car for a while, trying to decide what she was going to do. That was when she realized that she hadn't spoken to Annie since she got off. Her phone rang as soon as the thought entered her head.
“Are you alright,” Annie sounded concerned. “I thought I heard your car.”
“I'm here.” She sounded like she was losing her voice.
“Oh god. I'm coming down.”
