Page 2 of Dark Holiday

My briefcase burns in my hand as I set it down. It used to be my father’s and looks just as old. I don’t really know how to care for older leather like that, but it’s what I have. However, staring at Mr. Robinson’s desk, I spy his, which looks brand new. Is there some sort of unspoken code that everyone here has the best of the best?

I probably don’t even need the briefcase. I sure didn’t when applying at all my other jobs, but those were smaller retail positions. This is the first job where I might actually have a chance at aiming higher, moving up in rank. Besides, having this briefcase is just one more way to surround myself with my family. So, in a way, I do need it, just not in the traditional sense. Smoothing down the back of my skirt, I sit and look up at him in expectation.

“I’m just going to cut to the chase. I’ve studied your resume, and I’m not going to be able to offer you the receptionist’s job.”

My heart sinks at his words. Gripping the arms of the chair, I force myself to breathe evenly and not hyperventilate. Why the hell bring me down here to tell me I didn’t get the job? That could have been done over the phone, or hell, an email at the very least.

“Honestly,” he continues, “Your resume is so impressive; I have to ask myself why you even wanted to be a receptionist?”

I blink, my brain trying to process his words. Nothing about my resume was extraordinary. I’ve held temp and waitressing jobs, perfect pursuits for someone that dropped out of college – someone who thought they couldn’t aim higher.

“After seeing this, there was no way I could, in good conscience, give you such a demotion. I called you down here to see if you’d be willing to take on a different job. What would you say about becoming a personal assistant? I feel that role is much more in line with your talents.”

Blood drains from my face at his words. No. No, it can’t be. I rewrote the resume before I sent it in. Closing my eyes, I retrace my mental steps. Yes, I downloaded a sample resume, but I thought I changed everything, not just my name and job information. Unless…is it possible that he does have the right resume and still thinks I’m a good fit? Weirder things have happened.

“I’m actually curious why you didn’t apply for that opening in the first place.” He stares at me, a soft, fatherly smile gracing his face. There’s no judgment, no look of ‘gotcha.’ Perhaps this really is the break I’ve been looking for?

“I must not have seen it. I’m so sorry.”

Shrugging, he runs his fingers down my resume, looking it over again. “Nothing to be sorry about. I’m just glad I caught it before all the paperwork went through. I think you’ll feel much more at home assisting our Associate, Daniel. He’s working his way up to partner and needs a sharp mind by his side to help him out. Do you think you’re that assistant?”

What else can I say? It would be stupid to look this gift horse in the mouth. “Yes, Sir. I won’t let you down.”

“Wonderful. Now, I just have a few more questions before sending you to HR to finish the paperwork. Are you good at working under pressure?”

I’ve had to manage my life flipping upside down and still somehow put together a halfway decent, if not cheap, outfit. I’d have to say that’s an affirmative. “Yes.”

“Do you take criticism well?”

Internally, I wince. Anything other than a resounding no would be a lie. I freaking cried when my elementary school teacher gave me a B because I just wasn’t quite where I needed to be. One point. One measly point. “Yes.” My gut clenches as the lie slips from my lips.

Mr. Robinson gives me an encouraging smile, but it doesn’t quell the anguish in my heart. All of this is a lie. It’s wrong. It’s so very wrong, but I’m desperate. Hopefully, in time, I’ll be able to learn the ropes, figure out how exactly to do this job, and it will all be a moot point.

“Are you okay working late nights if that’s what’s needed?”

Thank God, an easy one. “That will never be a problem. I’m here to work.”

“It says here, you’ve worked in a few other places. We called them, and they said you did amazing work, but they never went into any detail about your specific skills. It’s mostly the fact that they had high praise that has you in this chair right now. So, what I want to know is, what is it that makes you right for this position?”

Fuck. What am I going to say? Already my lies start to unravel in my head. I’m usually honest by default, so manufacturing a story on the fly is for sure not my forte. “May I see the resume? I just want to make sure I address each place by name. As I’m sure you can see, I’ve worked at a lot of places.”

“I did notice that,” he agrees, handing over the thick, cream paper. “That was going to be my next question.”

Wracking my brain, I search for something other than I got bored. More than likely, that will have Mr. Robinson rethinking his options in a hurry. “I want only the best. I want to test my limits. To see how high I can go. For the majority of these places, I could only go so far. There wasn’t much room for growth.” My stomach churns, but I continue. It’s partly true, at least. “Once I reached the highest employment level I could, I used that as a stepping stone for a better job.”

Mr. Robinson steeples his fingers and rests his lips against the tips. My heart thumps so hard in my chest, I’m worried it’s going to explode out of me and land on the desk, just like a sci-fi movie cliche. That would be a great way to end the interview and not get the job.

“Is that what you consider this position? A stepping stone? I can see that as a receptionist, but as a personal assistant, we would prefer you stay on board for a lot longer than these jobs. It takes a special relationship to make it work, and that can only be cultivated through time.”

“I understand. And I assure you that I’ll put my everything into this job and see it through. I’ve never imagined being at the point that someone would want me as an assistant, so I’ll be here as long as they’ll have me.”

He chuckles and runs his hand down his tie, smoothing it under his jacket. “Knowing Daniel, you’ll call it quits before he does.”

A nervous laugh titters from my lips. Mr. Robinson carries on like I’m in on the joke, but I don’t know this Daniel guy. All I know is working for him can’t be any harder than this damned interview. Glancing down at the resume, my heart stops, and my blood runs cold. Until getting it into my hands, I hoped and prayed that I was wrong. There was a smidgen of hope that maybe, just maybe, they’re hiring me based on my merits and not a misunderstanding, but that’s not the case.

What am I going to do now? Until I read over it, I had plausible deniability. Now, I’m just lying. At what point does need outweigh morals? My stomach twists, an odd sensation of hunger and dread bubbling through me. I can’t live on morals, and I sure as hell can’t eat principles. I definitely can’t afford to move out of my friends’ house with either of those.

“So, do you want me to go down the list or give just an overview?”