by Lynn Stevens
I stripped down and slid the fabric over my head.
“I want to see it,” Paige said through the door.
The dress was perfect. It hugged me in the right places, giving my average boobs some cleavage and making my wide hips seem narrow. The belt cinched my waist without making me look like I’d tightened it too much. It accented my natural curves. I loved it.
But I couldn’t buy it. I couldn’t afford the fifty-dollar price tag. Even if it was Kate Spade and a steal. Tears welled in my eyes. Growing up with six brothers and a dad, I never felt pretty or even feminine at times. This dress made me feel pretty. And that was stupid. I didn’t need to feel pretty. I didn’t need to feel girly or feminine.
“Liv?” Paige’s voice penetrated the door. “Let me see.”
I pulled open the door, keeping my face down. There wasn’t any reason for her to see me like this. And there wasn’t any reason for me to act like this, either. It wasn’t like Henry didn’t make me feel pretty or sexy or wanted.
That thought froze me.
Did he? Really? My mind flashed through all the times Henry and I had been intimate. All the times we’d been out on dates or alone. He never told me I was pretty. Or sexy. Or anything. He’d only told me I looked nice. Exactly the same thing my brothers would say or my father would’ve said.
“God, that dress is so you.” Paige snapped me out of my memories. “I love it.”
“Me, too,” I whispered. “But I can’t. I just can’t.”
Paige took my hands. “Now, don’t get pissed at me, okay?”
I nodded.
“I know you’re saving every penny you can, and that’s great. Considering I have thirty dollars in my savings, I think it’s amazing you’ve got the will power.” Paige squeezed my hands and I finally looked up at her. “But sometimes you can have a little fun.”
“Where would I wear this?”
“Out. With me. We’ll go to dinner then a club or something.” Paige smiled, and the corners of my mouth lifted, too. “Let yourself be twenty-one for a change.”
“You know, the last time you said that I ended up in Devon Miller’s dorm room wearing his clothes.”
Paige’s grin turned into a vixen smile. “You never told me how it was, either.”
I couldn’t help the laugh that escaped. Soon we were laughing so hard that the clerk came to check on us. I pushed Paige out of the fitting room and changed into my jeans and hoodie. The dress went into my purchases. With the extra money from the internship, I could afford to cut loose a little. Maybe I wouldn’t wear it anytime soon, but I wanted to be able to. I wanted to have something just in case someone did ask me out.
In the back of my mind a little voice added, “Or when Devon makes you dinner.”
I told that voice to shut the hell up.
Chapter Eleven
Monday morning, I made a crazy decision. I wasn’t going to class. Skipping wasn’t my style, but I didn’t want to see Devon before I went to JenCar, no matter how much I wanted to rub it in that I had gotten the job instead of him. Plus the extra time could be used to look as professional as possible before I headed toward my orientation.
After a quick run to the library to return a copy of The Man Who Knew Infinity by Robert Kanigel, I hurried across the quad when I heard someone shout, “Liv.” But I kept going. The person probably wasn’t looking for me and if he was, then it was somebody from class who wanted to share notes. Nobody I wanted to look at or talk to at the moment. So, I picked up my pace.
The temperature had warmed to a balmy forty-two degrees, and I wanted nothing more than to bask in the sunlight. My rush to get home overheated me in my peacoat and sweat stained the pits of my shirt. Not that I wasn’t planning on showering anyway. The last thing I wanted was to show up looking like I’d run a marathon. After our shopping trip, Paige and I planned out my wardrobe for the entire week. All I had to do was shower, fix my hair and makeup, and get dressed. Having my clothes planned, that saved me at least twenty minutes.
An hour later, I was preparing to leave when someone knocked on my door. I peeked through the peephole. Paige and a vaguely familiar woman about my age with long brown hair and a disgusted expression stood there chomping on gum. Paige raised her fist again and banged three times.
“I know you’re there, Liv. Open up,” Paige said.
“Devon owes me big time for this,” the other girl muttered loud enough for me to hear. Not that she knew I was there. That’s when I realized who she was. Barry Acklin’s girlfriend, Candy. But why was she here?
I opened the door and glared at her. “What’s up?”
Paige nodded toward Candy. “You’re up. I’m just the navigator.”
She held out a dry-cleaning bag. “Here.”
“Um…okay,” I said, taking the bag.
“Whatever.” She rolled her eyes. “Anyway, Devon asked me to bring these over. He also wanted me to tell you what happened between you guys after you left the party. Which was nothing. You were loaded and wouldn’t tell him where you lived so he brought you back to the dorm. You hurled in the hallway and down your clothes.” She crossed her arms as if this was a terrible weight on her conscience. “Devon got some clothes and asked me to get you to the ladies. So that was it. After I threw your ass in the shower, I helped you back to his room. You passed out. Anything after that, I don’t know.” She shook her head. “But I do know Devon, and he wouldn’t sleep with some unconscious chick. So your virtue is intact, I’m sure.”
Candy spun on her heel and stomped down the stairs. Paige watched her go then turned toward me.
“So nothing happened?” she asked.
“I guess not.” I unzipped the bag and discovered my cream shirt in pristine condition. “He’d said as much, but I really didn’t believe him.”
“Well, he went out of his way then to make sure you did believe him.” Paige slapped the doorframe twice. “I gotta go. I’m meeting a new study partner for that stupid philosophy class I took. Good luck at work.”
“Thanks. I’ll call you later,” I said as she took off down the steps.
It took me a few minutes to process what exactly just happened. My clothes hung on the hanger inside the bag, and not even the wine stain showed on my shirt. I looked at the tag. It had Devon’s name. I ripped it off and shoved it in my pocket before hanging the clothes in the closet. I’d have to pay him back, but there wasn’t a price on the receipt.
I couldn’t think about this now. Devon wasn’t the complete jerk I thought he was, though. That was something.
As I waited for the truck to warm up, I called Madison cleaners to find out how much I owed him. It was everything I had in my wallet.
Ten minutes early, perfect. I sat in my truck, deleting the spam from my email and checking some coursework due the following week. The building loomed in front of me. I’d done it. I’d gotten the job. It still didn’t seem real. I climbed out of my truck and headed inside.
Don’t blow this.
“Ah, Ms. Dawson, perfect.” Mr. Anderson motioned toward the receptionist. “Ally will get you a parking sticker for the garage and a badge so you may come in the employee entrance. That will also be your time card.” He turned to Ally. “Send her back when you’re done here.”
“Will do.”
Mr. Anderson walked toward the door without looking back at me.
“He’s blunt, isn’t he?” I asked, regretting the words slipping from my mouth at record pace.
Ally smiled. “You can say that. But he’s also one of the most brilliant engineers at JenCar. He likes to get right to the point. You’ll always know where you stand with him.” She held out her hand, palm up. “I need your driver’s license please.”
I handed over everything Ally asked for. My JenCar ID was ready within minutes along with the parking permit and swipe cards. Ally stood and motioned me toward the door.
“You remember the conference room your last interview was in?” she asked. I nodded and relief fille
d her face. “Good. Go on in, Ms. Dawson. And welcome to JenCar Aerospace.”
My nerves shook under my skin as I stepped through the door by myself. The conference room was just down the hall and I savored every single step toward it. Schematics of famous airplanes hung on the walls approximately two feet apart. The Hughes H-4 Hercules or Spruce Goose, the Red Baron’s Frokker Dr. 1, and Amelia Earhart’s Lockheed Model 10 Electra schematics lined one wall, but the opposite wall was filled with the Aérospatiale, most commonly known as The Concorde. They were spectacular.
I entered the conference room on my right, the nerves turning to excitement and solidifying into dread within the span of ten seconds. Devon Miller leaned back in one of the chairs, his fingers steepled under his chin. A wicked grin covered his face.
“Hello, Olivia,” he said, sitting up quickly in his seat.
I didn’t bother to open my mouth. The table was long enough I could sit away from him, but avoiding his constant gaze wasn’t easy. He planned this. He made sure that Candy girl brought my clothes over specifically before I came here. Every nice move he made was countered by a dick move. Whatever he could do to keep me off-balance. I stared at the model of the Wright brothers’ plane that sat on the credenza along the far wall. The thin wooden sticks looked like they would shatter on impact. My youngest brother once built something similar out of toothpicks. It was supposed to be Air Force One. It looked more like a Cessna. I loved it and kept it on my nightstand back home.
“I’m curious,” Devon said, breaking the glorious silence. “What possessed you to skip class today? That doesn’t seem like the girl I know.”
I turned toward him but didn’t answer.
“You’re not the type of person who ditches just to ditch. There had to be a reason. What was it?” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the glass table. His overpowering musk filled my nose. “A certain person you’d rather avoid, maybe?”
I bit my tongue. Any reaction would’ve been the wrong one. Mainly because I didn’t know how to react or how I wanted to react. I glanced away from him, refocusing on the model and wishing I had one of the crystal tumblers filled with water sitting beside it.
“I’ve worked hard for you not to avoid me for a while. Remember last semester during the symposium on thermodynamics?” He paused, waiting for my acknowledgment. I didn’t even blink. “I know you do. You told me to shut up on four separate occasions. Those jokes weren’t meant to be funny so much as to get your attention.”
I remembered that as clear as yesterday’s breakfast. Devon wouldn’t shut up. He kept whispering theories that countered the methods in Dr. Loftcraft’s presentation. Most of Devon’s comments were spot on, but he could’ve waited until afterward to share them. We sat five rows from the stage. When I went to meet Dr. Loftcraft, he shook my hand and got away from me as quickly as possible.
“Why didn’t you tell me they hired you?” I asked.
He blanched. “I just assumed you knew. They made it a point to tell me you were hired.”
My eyebrows furrowed. “Why?”
Devon shrugged. “No clue.”
I pulled my wallet out and threw the bills across the table. “For my dry cleaning.”
“I don’t want your money.” He pushed the cash back toward me.
“Just take it. I don’t want to owe you anything.”
“You don’t.” He glared at me. “Can’t I do something nice for you? Is it that hard?”
“I don’t need your help.” I can do it on my own. Make my own way.
Devon pushed the money into my hand. “Nobody said you did. This isn’t a competition. You don’t owe me anything. Just accept that I did something nice for you and let it go.”
I didn’t know what to say, but I needed to say something.
“Mr. Miller, Ms. Dawson, welcome to JenCar,” Madeline Upton said as she strode into the room. She opened her briefcase and pulled out two large packets of information, sliding one toward Devon and one toward me. I slipped the money into my pocket. “This is your official application and orientation packets as well as your non-disclosure agreement. Please fill them out immediately. I’ll be back in about thirty minutes and we’ll begin orientation. I’m afraid your first day won’t be exciting, but it will be made clear what our expectations are for you over the next several months.”
I opened the packet, tuning out Devon’s nervous tapping, and began to fill out my address on the W-4s. The application consisted of my work history, which already had my resume, standard company rules, and tax forms plus the I-9. It was much more in-depth than the one I put in at Stockade. The non-disclosure agreement was so specific that I couldn’t remember most of the details. Basically, don’t share what went on in the building. Easy enough. By the time I completed the paperwork, my hand cramped and my brain swam in legalese.
“Good, you’re both finished,” the HR director said as she stepped back into the room. “For the next two hours, we’ll go over the rules of the company and the code of conduct. After that, I’ll take you to meet with the team members you both will be working with. Unlike in years past, we will be having our interns work specifically with one engineer on the approved projects. We expect valuable insight from both of you as well as complete participation. Now,” she said, and she dimmed the lights as a screen lowered from the ceiling. “Let’s begin.”
It was like sitting in a high school history class with a substitute teacher who played a video on something we’d already covered. For 120 minutes, we watched orientation videos on company policies (mildly interesting), sexual harassment (standard rules), and safety procedures (nothing new there, either). After all the training videos were over, we were quizzed to assure our attention and instructed to read and sign more documents certifying we’d received the training. There wasn’t anything involved that wasn’t common sense. Devon stifled a yawn on more than one occasion.
All in all, it took three hours to complete. We were given yet another tour, but this one included areas we hadn’t seen before, like the breakroom. Obviously knowing where to stash our snacks or lunches wasn’t part of an interview. Madeline Upton led us to the last stop of the tour: where we’d be working.
She rapped on an office door. A jovial voice instructed her to “enter” just as she opened it. Devon stepped in after her and I entered last. The small office was spotless with clean white walls, two chairs in front of the main desk, and a computer with two monitors against a wall. A lone filing cabinet filled one corner. The most notable thing was the lack of personal effects. Nothing on the walls, no photos of loved ones, not even a plant.
“Mr. Acton, this is Devon Miller, who will be your intern for the next several months,” Ms. Upton said. “Devon, meet Marvin Acton.”
Mr. Acton smiled, taking twenty years off his face. He was probably in his mid- to late-fifties judging by his receding hairline and the wrinkles around his mouth. Dark bags drooped his dull brown eyes. Oh, he’d get along with Devon perfectly. They both beamed at the other and did the customary “pleased to meet you.”
“Come along, Ms. Dawson, your mentor is just down the hall.”
I followed her out, overhearing Mr. Acton and Devon fall into easy conversation. Devon always had that ability to make himself comfortable wherever he was. My stomach flipped as I thought about who would be my boss. This internship could net me a job at JenCar after I graduate next year. And I could continue at Westland for my master’s degree. It was the perfect scenario.
The door was open, but Ms. Upton knocked anyway. The office was a mess with papers stacked on the edge of the desk and on two chairs pushed against the walls. A messy head peeked over the monitor. He straightened his glasses and glared with laser-pointer precision.
“Olivia Dawson, this is Philip Lawler. Philip, Olivia is your intern for the next several months.”
He grunted and went back to whatever was on his screen.
Great, Devon gets Dr. Jekyll and I get Mr. Hyde. It pays to have a dad in high places
, I thought bitterly.
“I’ll leave you two to get to know each other,” Ms. Upton said as she backed out of the room.
I wanted to flee with her.
“I told you I didn’t want an intern, Madeline.” Philip stood from behind his desk. Despite the disheveled office, his suit was pressed and his overall appearance more refined than I expected. He straightened his glasses, turning him into a man with GQ potential. Except for the scowl.
Madeline smiled. “I’m aware of that; however, you have one. I expect you to treat her with respect and as a colleague.”
He finally looked at me, his gaze traveling down my body. It took more strength than I thought I had not to shiver. It wasn’t that I felt like he was undressing me with his eyes, but more like he was appraising my intelligence based solely on my appearance. He shook his head, dismissing me with that one gesture. I wanted to rip his throat out. That wouldn’t look good on my resume, though. Besides, I’d proven to plenty of people that I was more than capable of handling whatever they threw at me. I’d prove it to Philip Lawler, too.
A surge of confidence shot through me as I stepped up to his desk and offered my hand. “It’s nice to meet you, sir.”
He snorted and sat down.
“What’re you working on?” I asked. Talking about work was good. Most people I knew who loved their jobs would do anything to talk about it. My oldest brother Tony loved telling me about where he was stationed, although he wasn’t able to talk about most aspects of his job. Being an Army Ranger made that difficult. Dad shared every detail about the Caddy he restored before Christmas. My brother Adam loved talking about undergrads he taught as a grad student. Even Paige like to share whatever job she was working when she actually worked. I figured that would be a great icebreaker.
Philip held up a dirty white coffee mug with JenCar’s logo. “Clean this, would you? And refill it with fresh coffee.”
“Um…sure?” I took the mug, and he still wouldn’t spare me a glance.
Getting coffee wasn’t part of my job description. That I knew. But I didn’t want to rock the boat. I left the office, stopping outside Acton’s office on my way. Devon’s laugh was well-practiced and utilized whenever he needed. I could hear it through the door along with Marvin Acton’s happy baritone.
