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Perhaps that wasn’t quite true. Writing and college still seemed more important than working with the band. I wanted a job, though, and sometimes, job interviews require some truth-bending.
My spiel lasted only a minute, but Helena looked bored already.
“Attention to detail?” she practically sneered at me. Then, the jade-eyed woman looked slowly down my dress, stopping at chest-level. Unable to help it, I looked down and let out a yelp. One of my buttons had unfastened itself. My boobs and lacy black bra peeked out from between the cotton flowers.
Oh god, oh god.
Why now?
On an interview, no less?
Cursing the dress, I fastened the button. But the woman seemed unfazed. Helena didn’t ask me any more questions. Why not? Surely, she needed to justify hiring a girl like myself? With no experience and no real selling points, there was no reason to hire me. Honestly I was surprised that she called to schedule an interview.
Because it was unbelievable, really. Helena called me back within twenty-four hours after my mom’s heart to heart. I imagined the woman had to go through a lot of applicants before she got to my submission, which meant that she chose me right away.
But why?
What made me so special?
The Hard Fought guys were globally renowned rock stars.
Sex symbols.
The type of guys that women wanted and men wanted to be.
But the world moves in mysterious ways. Because after I finished telling her about my background babysitting non-rock stars, Helena looked me up and down one last time.
“Enough. I have another meeting that I cannot miss.”
I opened my mouth to protest. The unbuttoned dress fiasco had dug a grave just for me. There was no coming back from such unprofessionalism.
But then Helena chirped, standing up abruptly.
“You’re hired.”
I literally couldn’t speak for a moment. What in the world? How was this possible?
Fortunately, words finally came.
“Really? I-I mean…thank you! Thank you so much!”
She waved me off. “Let’s not get too personal here. There will be a set of plane tickets waiting for you at the airport. You’ll be going to Detroit to meet the band tomorrow. Have you been to Detroit Metro before?”
I shook my head no.
“Then you’ll want to leave early. It’s a big airport and I don’t want you to be late. If you’re late, you’re fired. Got it?”
“Got it!” I replied with a prompt nod. “I won’t be late, ma’am.”
“Don’t call me ma’am,” she scoffed. “Do you have a passport?”
There had never been a reason for me to leave the country.
“No,” I replied, shaking my head. “That isn’t a deal-breaker, is it?”
“No, but it is an inconvenience. We’ll have to get you one. I can expedite the process but it can still take a little while. We’re going to be touring outside of the United States eventually, and if the guys decide to keep you, you’ll need to be able to get out of the U.S.,” Helena explained, scribbling down notes. “Don’t leave your house tonight. My runner has a very loose schedule, so I don’t know when you should expect him. You miss the runner, you miss your flight. You miss your flight, you don’t have the job. Do you understand?”
This woman was downright scary, and I nodded like a frightened rabbit.
“I understand.”
“Good. Now leave. I have things to do.”
I stood up to leave before turning and inquiring, “Um, ma’am? Do you have my address?”
She pointed at the application in her hands, saying nothing. Her eyes told me to leave as quickly as possible.
So I did, rushing out of there like a woman with her hair on fire.
I’ve never packed so fast in my life.
A new adventure. Material for my novel. More money than I knew how to spend.
It all felt so surreal.
I was living a fairytale. And yet, if things didn’t move fast, the opportunity would disappear—or that’s what it seemed like, anyway.
Most applicants would have to be a personal assistant for years before getting hired by three rock stars. And yet, I’d lucked out on my first interview. A lot of people in the field would say that’s impossible.
Inwardly squealing, I folded my favorite polo shirts and khaki pants—eight of each. From what I read about touring, sometimes it was hard to get to a Laundromat. Preparation was key.
Plus, I couldn’t stop thinking about the money. Not that I’m obsessed with cash. But I’d be making six figures! Most new assistants only make half of that, at best. It was real hard to believe.
Trying to calm down, I took myself off to bed. But there was too much adrenaline running through my frame. I was about to meet the men that been on my mind for days. Their photographs were enough to drive any girl to madness. They were angels. Sensual, hard-bodied angels.
Or demons, let’s face it.
Hudson, Brody, and Gunner.
I thought that Brody was the best looking one. Perhaps, it was due to the photogenic angles photographers chose for him. Maybe it was his strong fan-base. Either way, I had been such a naïve girl. All of Hard Fought’s members were equally sexy, and anyone that met them knew it.
