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“Ladies!” she yells.
Everyone looks at her, and she rolls her eyes. “Enough gossiping, we have a tight deadline. First, I will interview you, and those who make it past me will go on to meet the owners. They will choose two or three to interview themselves. Then one will be chosen, understood? Good.” She looks us over again and glowers at a girl in a large cardigan and loose dress with greasy, unwashed hair. “You, go home.” She looks around and points out a blonde with giant boobs and a massive ass wearing a dollar sign necklace. “You too.” When they move away, she nods. “The rest of you, with me.”
She turns and, like a boss, strides across the room, expecting us to follow like good little dogs. I quickly stand, and we follow after her like a gaggle of baby geese, moving across the room and through the turnstiles. When we reach the bank of elevators, we have to split up, each group waiting for one of the four to take us up. Once inside, I look out with shock. It’s fucking glass. The elevator is glass. As we rise, I peer down at the lobby below us with a stupid grin on my face.
This is amazing!
These people must be made of money. Fuck, how am I going to get this job? Clearly, they want an attractive, upscale girl. So that means faking class. No biggie. I’ve spent the majority of my life pretending to be someone I’m not.
Confident.
Happy.
When I’m really just desperate and alone.
We stop at the thirtieth floor, and by the numbers on the buttons, I realize this is the second level from the top. We are led out and into what looks like a waiting area between four clearly marked boardrooms.
“Sit here. I will call you in one by one. This could be a long day, girls, so be prepared for that now. It won’t be easy, and that’s intentional to prepare you for the job to come. If you can’t handle that, leave now.” When no one does, she snorts and goes into Boardroom A, leaving the door open. A moment later, her voice comes again. “Cindy Bry!”
The blonde giraffe struts inside, shutting the door behind her. Listening to the woman’s advice, I sit patiently. I can wait all day, I have nowhere else to go. Hell, I’m inside a temperature controlled environment with electricity and seating that’s not ripped up and full of holes. I could camp out here all day, even if a job wasn’t on the line.
When thoughts of Mischief come to the forefront of my mind, I shake them off and split my attention between watching the other girls and observing my surroundings. Time passes slowly, with more and more girls being interviewed. Most go home, only a few stay after. Those who leave are red-faced and angry or crying their eyes out. Great.
There seems to be no rhyme or reason for whom she calls in, but I refuse to get bored and leave. I’m used to having to entertain myself, so I sit and watch the other girls and make up their backstories until her voice splits the air again.
“Rory O’Brien.” I stand in shock at the suddenness and then slide my hands across my skirt to smooth it down before slipping into the boardroom. She sits across the table with papers spread before her. “Shut the door,” she instructs. After I do, she juts her chin toward the empty chair. “Sit.”
There is only one other chair in the room opposite her, which I take. She doesn’t even bother to introduce herself, which is strange, but I stay silent and wait. I perch on the edge, playing with my résumé on the table, trying to be patient as she looks over the ones before her. “Here, look these over while I read your résumé.” She hands me a packet of information, and I pass her my fake résumé.
I page through the information, frowning at what I find before she clears her throat. “Your résumé is quite impressive.” She sits back and watches me like a hawk. “So why do you want this job?”
“The company is very impressive and offers a competitive salary with good benefits—”
She rolls her eyes. “Not the spiel, the truth.”
I lick my lips, and she sighs, losing interest. Fuck. “I don’t want this job, I need this job. I had to leave my last position due to my brother becoming ill, and I had to take care of him before I placed him in a long-term home.” I use a little of the truth but also some lies so I don’t freak her out. Her lips loosen, and she watches me with interest. “I love my brother, and I would do anything to keep him there. That means I need a steady, well-paying job, and they are hard to find. I will do anything to get this position.”
“Interesting.” She watches me intently. “I didn’t expect that. Thank you for the truth, it was refreshing. Now that I know you have the passion and drive to keep up with this job, I need to know if you can actually do it.” She looks at the papers she handed me pointedly. “So, discuss.”
“It was well organized,” I lie, and she looks down with an eye roll again.
She clearly also wants an intelligent woman, at least I don’t need to fake that. But I do need to make sure I don’t seem too smart. “That will be al—”
Nope, I am not losing this job. I am not going back to jail.
She wants the truth? Fine. I rest back against the chair and cross my legs, eyeing her pointedly. “Your numbers don’t match up, and it’s very obvious, which means you’ve done it to test us.” I put the paper down and meet her gaze. “I saw that in the first second. I also noticed the office supply list you gave us could be narrowed down, reducing your expenditures, and that Monday’s calendar was missing important information such as meeting times, lunch, and what time to call for the car… Anything else? Or would you like to know my IQ?” I smirk, and then it fades. Fuck, was that a bad move?
She laughs, actually laughs. “You’re good. Go back and take a seat. I have two more interviews before the next round.” She stands and shakes my hand. “Thank fuck you aren’t all bimbos,” she teases.
* * *
By the timeall the interviews are over, only fifteen girls remain. We’re led up to the thirty-first floor and guided into what looks like an open waiting room, except there are no chairs anywhere. A span of beige carpet spreads across the floor, and empty gray walls reach barrenly to the tall ceilings. Other than the table at the back, with snacks and water, and two brown double doors, there’s nothing to look at. The PA tells us to wait here, so I grab a glass of water and sip it, awaiting the next stage of the interview process.
Some of the girls cluster together and talk about the interview. I overhear one of them mention she’s seen the bosses and that they are hot. I roll my eyes at that. Jesus, so she’s here for the hot men? Not the money or the job?
Plus, I’m betting even if they are hot, they are utter assholes. All rich businessmen are. They are the type of men who cheat with the nanny and show off their trophy wives, who hang silently from their arms. A moment later, the doors open and the women rush to get to the door, racing to be the first to be seen and greet them. The gaggle of desperate women blocks my view as I finish my water and place my cup in the bin. Leaning against the wall, I wait for the bosses to make their rounds. I need to speak to them to get this job, but there’s no way in hell I’m fighting the Barbie army.Barmby?Their voices blend together, all giggly and pathetic, but I hear a male voice that’s deep and rough, and it sends a shiver through me. It’s almost a growl.
Then there’s another male voice, smooth and dark like a good whiskey, and then a third. Fuck, how many brothers are there? The last voice is flirty and charming and somewhat familiar, the kind of dulcet tones that arouses your pussy and dampens your panties.
