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That’s why I landed at the shelter, where I found a whole array of social services to help me. Some were more accessible than others. I could take a shower, but it was in a large room full of other women, and I didn’t like that. I could hunt through the bargain bin for clothing, but it didn’t fit well and was full of stains and holes. I could eat and sleep for free, which I did take them up on. The back seat of my car didn’t provide the right support for my back, and I couldn’t relax when I was out on my own.
Like a lot of people who found themselves homeless, I cobbled together what I needed and worked with what I had. Things were going to change, though; I could feel it. I didn’t know why, but I was sure that this was my lucky day.
I’d chosen to wear my red hair down around my shoulders. Most of the other women were blond and had opted for ponytails or expertly coiffured buns. I knew how to braid my own hair and could have pulled it back, but I thought that the soft, ruddy curls gave me a friendly look. Whenever I went out to meet the public, I always wore my hair down.
I had a birthmark on my left shoulder that was much bigger than the tiny artistic spots that most women had to contend with. It covered my skin with a deep purple splotch, making it impossible for me to wear spaghetti straps or sleeveless gowns.
The collar of the shirt I wore neatly covered it up. And the high waistband of my skirt was at the height of professional fashions. If fortune was smiling on me, I would stand out from the crowd just enough to get my foot in the door.
It took me two hours of waiting in that awful line until I was finally in the building. The interviews were being conducted from two to five, and it was getting dangerously close to the five o’clock mark. I was terrified that they would round up the rest of us and send us all home without giving us a chance. But I was waved through at a quarter to five, allowed to get on the elevator, and directed to the tenth floor.
On the way up, I gave myself a pep talk. I was going to crush this interview. I was the person they were looking for; they just didn’t know it yet. I had something that none of the rest of the bombshells had. I was organized and assertive, I knew what I wanted out of life, and I was hungry. That last adjective was the one I was going to lean on. Everybody wanted someone with hustle, whether it was in sales, in television, or in support services. I would prove myself by meeting every deadline and filing every report before I was asked. I just had to let the hiring manager know.
When the doors opened, I came face to face with the most gorgeous man I had ever seen. He had short, blond hair and shocking brown eyes. I almost stumbled, unprepared for such a vision. I recovered quickly, snapping my jaw shut. He looked tired. That would make my job that much harder. With no energy left to interview, would he even bother trying to act impressed by my meager offerings?
I screwed up my courage, determined to put my best foot forward. Stepping out of the elevator, I introduced myself. “Good afternoon,” I said. “My name is Ava.”
Chapter 3
Nate
I was considering punching my best friend. Peter Warren, better known as the VP of product design, told me without a doubt that a mass interview was the way to go. He had handled all the arrangements, putting the message out far and wide. The result was almost fifty different women all eager for the same spot.
Luckily, Peter had put a time limit on it. He said I would be available from two to five and promised me I would find someone by then. I wasn’t feeling good about my choices. You would think that with so many applicants, at least some of them would be worth it, but that didn’t seem to be the case this time around.
There were women who were beautiful and women who were competent, but I didn’t feel any sort of a connection to any of them. I didn’t want someone who was going to get into my pants, but she had to be in my head somewhat. I wanted a real partner, someone who would have my back in a meeting.
I wanted to be able to look at her and communicate things without speaking. If I needed her to rescue me from a particular client, or if I needed a break to sort things out, I wanted her to recognize those things. I just wasn’t sure if any of the women I met so far were that tuned in.
Anybody could handle my schedule. Anybody could answer the phones. What I needed was a rockstar, and I hadn’t found one yet. All that changed at the end of the day when the elevator doors opened and Ava stepped out.
I met her in the hall, just like I met all the other candidates. I had called down to the front desk to let them know that I intended to stick to the five o’clock deadline. If I didn’t find anyone that day, I would return to the more respectable way of locating a secretary, through referrals. I would steal one if I had to.
I was still considering ways around the problem when Ava jolted me awake. She had long, red hair that swung free, pillowing over her shoulders and down her back. She was dressed appropriately, although not fashionably. The wardrobe wasn’t an issue. We had plenty of lines of clothing we could use to outfit her. She wouldn’t have to buy a thing.
It was her eyes that sealed the deal for me. There was a spark in them that went beyond the corporate environment. She was special, and she knew it. I felt some of my energy returning, and I found myself eager to sit down with her.
“Good afternoon,” she said, presenting me with her hand. “My name is Ava.”
“Ava,” I repeated, noting just the right amount of pressure when I shook. “Nate Brockton. Call me Mr. Brockton.”
“Pleasure to meet you,” she said.
I turned away without answering, leading her down the hall toward my office.
“I’m surprised you’re holding open interviews,” Ava said, trying to maintain the conversational thread.
“It was the brainchild of my friend Peter,” I replied. “He thought this would be the best way to find the right person.”
“Lucky for me,” she quipped, remaining standing while I circled my desk. “This is a lovely office.”
“Are you from Boston?” I asked. I didn’t feel the need to get right down to business. There was something intangible that I wanted to gauge, something about the chemistry between us that had to be right.
“Not originally, but I’ve lived here for a long time.”
“Where are you from, originally?”
“Virginia,” she replied. “But I was very young.”
