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As Jean-Rene encourages our natural talents to flow, we’re given an element of leeway over these tasks, so I chse to be a little creative.
I think it looks great. But it won’t officially make the mark until he gives his seal of approval. This is his show; he’s the boss of them all and the man who hired me as his one-of-six special interns.
Before he got to me, I heard him screaming at one of the other interns. His voice shook the entire room, and I’m not sure how the glass in the windows didn’t shatter.
I’m praying he won’t do the same to me.
Nerves have already liquified my insides, and my mind is a scrambled mess from the lack of sleep last night.
The nerves are expected, and completely normal. Everyone is nervous today. Even the people who’ve worked with Jean-Rene for years and years and years.
The lack of sleep, however, is my very own fault courtesy of the hot-as-fuck man I can’t get out of my head.
Nobody told me to spend the night obsessing over a man I can’t have and will most likely never see again.
I know I'm not doing myself any favors by hanging on to his memory, but I can't seem to forget. After my failed attempt to see him on Saturday, I had all of yesterday to try and detox him from my mind, but it didn’t work.
Knowing the importance of today, thinking of him last night was truly foolish.
Our six-month trial officially began at nine-thirty this morning when I stepped in the building. Under Jean-Rene’s rules, that means you have every day during that time to prove yourself to him and prove you earned a full-time spot in his show.
He also doesn’t care who you are, so this is one time when being Jason Bell’s daughter means nothing.
Jean-Rene steps away from the painting—scrutiny complete. I bring my hands together to stop them from shaking and try to compose myself.
Brushing his mid-length hair over his shoulder, he finally looks at me and nods.
He nods and actually gives me what I think I could class as a smile, but it's fleeting. There one moment and gone the next.
"This is très magnifique, Serenity. Superb.” His rich French accent deepens with his excitement. “I love what you have done here."
"Thank you so much. I'm so glad you like it." I can barely get the words past the earth-sized lump in my throat, but I manage to talk and give him a grateful—and relieved—smile as my breathing returns to normal.
"Keep up the good work.”
“I will.” My promise is genuine. There’s nothing I want more for my career than the experience of working with him. Just his name on my resume is a done deal in most establishments, so I most definitely will be keeping up the good work.
“The supervisor will look at what you've done again at the end of the day, then give you tomorrow’s assignments."
“Okay.”
"I'm glad to hear my girl is doing so well," a voice I know all too well says from behind us. I just didn’t expect to hear it here at work.
When I turn and see my father striding towards us like a man who owns the world, my nerves return and amplify.
Dad is tall and muscular with short black wavy hair, speckled with gray he loves because he says it makes him look more distinguished and older than his fifty years. Dressed in a black Boss suit, Dad hardly looks any different from Jean-Rene, but his overbearing ego screaming of wealth and power reaches the four corners of the room, suffocating everyone else’s authority.
It's hard to imagine him as the good-natured, carefree person Mom used to talk about who hated designer labels and would sooner save his money than splash out on a suit.
Those days were long, long gone before I was born. And so is the man.
It’s not that I’m not happy to see my father. I just wasn't expecting to until dinner on Wednesday at the family home.
Also, his presence here on my first official day of work isn't exactly a good thing. I’ve come to know that these sorts of drop-ins always mean something’s either happened or is about to.
The most memorable was when he came to pick me up at school to let me know Mom died. It’s understandable when my stomach twists at the anticipation of what this visit could mean.
"Governor Bell, it's a pleasure." Jean-Rene meets Dad halfway and puts out his hand for him to shake. Dad does and smiles.
