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ONE
Farren sloshed her soaked stilettos into the lobby of Rayner Technologies and tried to shake the excess droplets from the messenger bag hanging at her side that held her probably rain-soaked résumé. How appropriate, she thought, that a torrential downpour would erupt before she could get half way to the building for her second-round interview at the illustrious, Houston-based technology firm. Obviously unprepared with no umbrella, her soaked, silk charmeuse blouse she had splurged on just for the occasion clung to her trim, statuesque frame.
The blast of cool air conditioning raised chills across her flesh before she could take in the modernistic and masculine décor she had seen on more than a few occasions now. Her eyes zeroed in on the front desk, and she approached a pale, lanky, young guy in a crisp, black, polo shirt, who seemed to be engrossed in the computer screen sitting in front of him.
“Hi, I’m Farren Fields. I’m here for a ten o’clock interview with Mr. Rayner.”
The guy looked up at her, and his eyes went wide. She knew she probably resembled a wet Colley at the moment, but surely he had seen a person come in out of the rain before.
“Umm, I’m sorry. Can you let Mr. Rayner know that I’m here for my interview?” Farren repeated, as the guy continued to stare at her without a word.
“Right. Okay, should I just wait here, or…?”
She left the question hanging in the air until a woman with tight, bright-red curls framing her face came around a corner and walked toward the front desk.
“Oh, for goodness’ sake, Toby, you act like you’ve never seen a pretty girl before. Give me back my chair and I’ll handle it,” the girl said in a thick, Southern accent, shooing Toby out of her space. As she took her seat, the sound of shuffling ice rattled inside a large, Styrofoam cup that she took a quick sip from and sat down beside her computer monitor.
“You’ll have to forgive him. He’s not used to being around women much, except for me, I guess. You’re a pretty, young thang, too. Just look at that long, dark hair you’ve got. Here, take these,” the red-haired girl offered, handing Farren a box of tissues.
“Thank you, ma’am,” Farren said, accepting the box and drawing out a few tissues that she dabbed at her blouse with.
“You can call me Rita, hon’. I’ve got a ways to go before I start goin’ by ma’am.”
“I’m sorry. Thank you, Rita. I’m Farren. I’m here for-”
“For the ten o’clock interview with Mr. Rayner,” Rita interrupted. “Yes, I’ll let them know you’re here. If you’d like, you can go on and have a seat right there by the other lady in the waiting area.”
Farren looked over in the direction Rita had pointed and noticed a woman who was likely a few years older than herself, pristine and polished in a pencil skirt and button-down blouse. The woman’s hair was coiffed meticulously in a low bun, and she wore a pair of stylish, red-framed glasses. She had clearly arrived prior to the downpour.
Looking down at her own outfit splotched with rain water, Farren had to refrain from an outward sigh. Sizing up her competition was deflating at best, and for a split second, she considered leaving before they had the chance to reject her. She pushed the thought away immediately, knowing it would take a lot more than a wet outfit and dripping hair to stop her from at least trying.
Farren had dreamed of working at Rayner Technologies since her sophomore year of high school, about six years prior. She had researched the company and written a report on it for a school project she’d been given in a dual-credit programming class. A newspaper article about the cutting edge work Rayner Technologies was doing for businesses all over the world had appeared just days before the assignment had been handed out, so she’d immediately known who she’d had in mind for it.
At the time, touring their office had been fascinating to a computer geek like herself. Seeing the software development, the inventive and creative processes, and the hands-on work of building computer-based robotics and other machinery had sealed her desire to pursue an Information Technology career, and Rayner Technologies wasn’t just her top choice, it was her only choice.
Before she even had a chance to take a seat, the other interviewee was called back, so she now had the whole seating area to herself. She tried to comb her fingers through her sopping hair before picking up a Wired magazine that sat at the top of a small stack of other tech magazines lying on the coffee table in front of her. She leafed through its thin, glossy pages without actually seeing the words or photos printed on them. She was way too nervous at this point to focus on anything else, anyway.
She sat as patiently as she could until she saw the other woman emerge from the hallway she had been taken down earlier, and Farren did not miss the smug look on the woman’s face as their eyes met when she passed. Farren could feel her hopes fall into the hollow of her stomach, but she smiled at the woman and looked back down at her pretend-reading.
A few more minutes passed, and when Farren thought she would explode if she had to wait any longer, she heard a timid, male voice call out her name. She sprang from her chair, threw Wired back onto the table, and walked around to where the man was standing in his light-colored, ironed, khaki pants and another crisp, black polo she realized had the Rayner Technologies logo on it.
“This way,” he said as he motioned for her to follow him down the hall. “Do you have a résumé for Mr. Rayner?”
“Oh, yes,” she answered, reaching into her messenger bag and pulling out the folder that held the documents she had prepared. The folder was a little damp, but thankfully, it looked as though it had caught the worst of the rain, and the papers it held inside were, for the most part dry. She handed it to him as they walked.
He led her to a large, corner of
fice in the far back of the building, the front of which was walled with large, floor-to-ceiling windows, covered by wide, vertical blinds that were drawn open at the moment. They allowed her a view of an older, dark-haired and rather attractive man with a five-o’clock shadow, wearing a blue, button-down shirt. He had his sleeves unbuttoned and rolled up to his mid fore-arms, and the top button at his collar was undone as well, splaying open just enough to give a casual air to him while still looking professional.
Farren observed the man as she entered the door and approached his desk. Her heart caught in her throat and her nerves wound her into a tight coil. He didn’t acknowledge her, but his attention went to her escort who approached him and handed over the folder holding her cover letter, résumé, and reference letters.
The man who had led her in directed her in a quiet voice, as though he were in a public library. “You can just have a seat here. Mr. Rayner, your ten o’clock appointment.”
Rayner took the folder, opened it, and began scanning its contents through a pair of black rimmed glasses.
The man remained stationery where he stood, clearly waiting for a sign that Mr. Rayner had heard him.
“Thank you, Mickey. That will be all,” Rayner stated, dismissively, in what Farren thought may have been the sexiest, deep, masculine voice she had ever heard.
Realizing the direction of her thoughts, she tried to rein them in. This guy had to be at least ten to fifteen years older than her. That was way too old for her, even if he wasn’t her potential, future employer, which made it even more ridiculous that thoughts of how attractive he was had even entered her mind. She had to focus.
She sat quietly as he flipped through more papers in the folder he held. She noticed a large frame on the wall behind him with a University diploma centered in the middle of it that read Rogan Rayner. She thought the name was fitting of the rugged, muscular man sitting before her. He certainly stood out among the others she had encountered in this place.
She tried to decipher his facial expressions, wondering if they might give her any idea of what his thoughts were as he thumbed through her papers. His face remained expressionless, though, putting her even more on edge.
Finally, he closed the folder, sat it down on the desk in front of him, and looked up at her.
“Miss Fields, is it?” he asked, and she found herself distracted by the deep blue of his eyes that the lenses of his glasses did nothing to dampen.
She realized he had asked her a question, so she quickly recovered. “Yes, Farren Fields. It’s such a pleasure to meet you, sir.” She continued to sit, rigid in her chair under his scrutinizing gaze as the knots tightened inside her stomach.
He picked back up her résumé, giving it another glance, and then looked back at her with one eyebrow quirked up in skepticism. She felt herself shrinking under his critical stare. This was not a good sign, she realized. Shouldn’t he have a list of questions to ask her or something? This was not at all how she expected this to go, and definitely not what she had tried to prepare herself for.
“Miss Fields, I’m going to level with you…” he began, and it already sounded like this wasn’t going to go well.
TWO
Mr. Rayner steepled his hands in front of him as he continued. “You’ve managed to charm my staff that have interviewed you and gotten you to this point in the process, but unfortunately, I am not so easily impressed.”
Farren’s stomach dropped as she realized he was telling her he was not going to hire her. She knew she would have to think fast if she had any chance at all to turn this around. She just had to convince him to change his mind.
She inched herself forward to the edge of her seat. “Sir, I realize I may not be as experienced as your other candidates, but I hope you’ll at least give me an opportunity to address any concerns you have about my fit here in your company.”
“My worry is not about your fit. I have no doubt you would fit amazingly.” She thought she saw the corners of his mouth twitch ever so slightly.
“Therein lies the problem,” he continued, setting her documents on the desk before him once again. He removed his glasses, folded them, and sat them to the side before leaning forward in his own chair.
“I’m afraid I don’t understand, sir. I’ve been interested in working for Rayner Technologies for a long time now. Years, actually. I’m willing to put in the extra effort to make up for whatever it is you think I am lacking.” She was trying not to sound desperate, but that was exactly how she felt at the moment.
He was silent for what seemed to Farren like minutes, but was probably only several seconds, contemplating how to proceed.
“Miss Fields, I’m sure you probably noticed that this company is predominately employed by men. I’m not saying I don’t want to hire you because you’re a woman, and I certainly do not want a civil rights law suit claiming that as the reason I cannot hire you. Please know that all the remaining candidates are women, and the position will be filled by one of them. However, I’m afraid hiring you, specifically, would cause too much of a distraction to my employees, and for that reason, I cannot justify selecting you for the position.”
He was looking her straight in the eyes, delivering the death blow to her dreams like a Total Knock Out in the ring, ruthless and with lightning speed and precision.
“A distraction, sir? I assure you that I would take great care to not distract anyone from their work,” she reasoned, nervously scratching her thumb nail against the nail of her index finger.
Rayner’s head lowered as he shook it in frustration. “I’m very sorry for taking up your time, Ms. Fields. Please let me know if you need someone to show you out.”
At that, he stood and walked coolly to the office door behind her, held it open, and stood watching her until she rose from her chair and scurried out like a dog with its tail tucked between its legs. She had never felt more humiliated, confused, or downright betrayed by the unfair circumstance as she felt in that moment.
As Farren left Rayner Technologies, she felt deflated. It was all she could do not to burst into tears as she passed Rita and Toby on her way out the door. She had been waiting for so long and had gotten her hopes up so high. That meant a long, hard way to fall, and she felt it deep in her chest where the disappointment settled like a heavy weight.
