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He would nod if I mumbled a greeting, which would be it, no matter how much time I spent at Allen and Alexanders’s home.
"You seem lost in thought," Mara remarked, snapping me back to reality.
I chuckled nervously.
"Don't worry, you've got this!" she reassured me.
"Confidence is key. Just like how a great hairstyle can boost your self-assurance, knowing your stuff will make you shine."
I laughed, but her words hit home. Confidence. I needed to channel that energy, the same energy that made me excited about meeting Alexander, into the interview itself.
Being genuine while presenting the polished professional side was a tricky balance. But this was the chance to show I was more than Allan's friend.
That I was a lot more.
After a blissfully calm afternoon, Mara twirled me to face the mirror.
I blinked at my reflection, taken back by the transformation. My hair was elegantly styled, framing my face in a powerful and approachable way, even though I could feel the subtle pinching of the hairpins.
"Wow," I whispered, genuinely impressed.
She grinned. "You look amazing, Elizabeth!"
I thanked her and started to leave the salon, feeling renewed determination.
I checked the time — it’s almost time to head to Alexander's. As I stepped out the door, I paused to send a quick message to Allan: my picture with the caption.
Elizabeth Parker
Wish me luck
When I got home, I hurried to my closet to figure out what I would wear tonight.
I stood in front of the mirror; I’d carefully chosen a crisp white blouse and a sleek black pencil skirt for the meeting with Alexander.
I wanted to look polished and professional.
A sudden urge to reach Allan for moral support tugged at me. I picked up my phone, but before I could dial his number, a notification on Instagram caught my eye.
Allan had started a live feed, showcasing his painting process to his loyal artsy fans. I sighed, conflicted between seeking comfort and watching him create his masterpiece.
Glancing at the time, I realized I’d less than an hour before I needed to leave. Allan had assured me that Alexander would send a car to pick me up, so I joined Allan's live feed. I clicked on the link, and there he was, in his element, painting away with vibrant strokes of color.
Seconds turned into minutes as I lost myself in Allan's live feed. The calming effect of watching him create art worked wonders on my frayed nerves.
But just as I felt a sense of peace, a knock on my door jolted me back to reality. I checked my watch — it’s time.
I hurried to the door and opened it to find a middle-aged man in a sharp suit standing there. My heart raced, wondering ifthis was the driver sent by Alexander. "Are you Ms. Parker?" he asked in a polite tone.
I nodded, a little flustered. "Yes, that's me."
He extended his hand with a warm smile. "It’s good to meet you, Ms. Parker. My name is David. I'm Mr. Hartman’s driver. I’m here to pick you up for your appointment."
I shook his hand, feeling a mixture of relief and excitement. "Nice to meet you too, David."
"Shall we?" he gestured toward the hallway.
I grabbed my bag and followed him out of my apartment building.
