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Or, at least, I had before I decided to look for answers. I had a roof over my head, a fridge full of food, and a car. But I gave it all up to chase a dream. And it seems that chasing your dreams lands you square in the middle of a bus station bathroom, trying to wash off the stench of a day-long journey before rushing to a job interview.
To which I was late.
You see, the car Ihad? It broke down about a hundred miles away from my destination, and the bus that was going to take me the rest of the way was a five-hour wait.
So, a five-hour wait and a million stops later, I could no longer take my time to find a cheap motel and get ready. All I could do was stuff my luggage in one of the bus station lockers and hope that a sink bath would be enough.
With my hair dry and up in a bun, I quickly change into a white blouse, a grey pencil skirt that flares around my knees, accentuating my hips, and a pair of heels I stole the previous day.
Not having time for elaborate makeup, I swipe some concealer under my eyes, then finish up with mascara and some red lipstick.
This will have to do.
The security guy eyes me up as I rush past him to put the rest of my belongings in the locker. The way his eyes follow my every movement, I’m certain there’s either a ‘wanted’ poster of me somewhere or a security camera in the bathroom, and he just got a show. Whichever it is, I don’t have the time to dwell on it, so I shoot him a toothy grin before grabbing the piece of paper that will hopefully help me get settled in this town and hightailing it out of there.
As soon as I’m out of the station and following the map on my phone, I’m enveloped in a heavy fog I swear wasn’t there when the bus drove into town. How on earth am I supposed to know where to go when I can barely even see my fingers?
For the first time since I listened to my gut and decided on this crazy adventure, I’m having doubts. Getting run over by a car because it couldn’t see me in the fog would definitely put a damper on my plans. And was it really the right decision to leave everything behind and come here? What if this town doesn’t have the answers I seek? What if I made a huge mistake? And let’s be honest, this job sounds too good to be true.Receptionist needed right away? The guy I spoke to on the phone just a few days before sounded way too eager for me to come in.
Distracted with all these questions swirling in my head somehow, I arrive in front of the small building unscathed, slightly out of breath and only fifteen minutes late.
With my resume clutched in my sweaty hand, I step through the door, hoping they will not turn me away just because I’m a little late. And I’m greeted by... no one. There isn’t a single person inside the small reception area. The place is eerily quiet.
Scrunching my face up, unsure of my next step, I spot a small chair in the corner and decide not to give up. If they’re having another interview, I’ll just wait until it’s over and beg them to see me. I need this job. Well, I needajob if I’m to stay in Blackwood. The five hundred and fifty dollars in my bag will not last long if I don’t add a steady stream of income.
It was luck, really, that just when I was researching the town on the Internet, I stumbled on a receptionist job offer. It was even luckier that they needed the position filled as soon as possible. Decision made and fake resume printedout, I packed up my whole life into two suitcases and a duffel bag, loaded up my car and set off on the nine-hour journey north. Then, an hour and a half left ahead, my car gave up on me, and the rest is a bus station sink-bath history. I’m almost ninety per cent sure there’s actual footage.
But I’m here now, and I always land on my feet. This will be no exception. I scan the piece of paper in my hand once again. All the dates and fake companies I supposedly worked for were in my head the minute I typed them up. That’s not what I’m anxious about. My story and resume are perfect. My acting skills—not so much.
But it will be fine. They won’t find out I’ve never worked as a receptionist before. I’m a quick learner. Had to be, since I had to fend for myself from an early age. If I can learn how to make elaborate cocktails, pick a lock, cook and memorise the entire encyclopaedia, I can learn how to answer calls and smile at people. Surely.
I have my memory on my side. Ever since I was little, all I had to do was read or experience something once, and I’d remember it no matter what. I’m a fountain of useless information and bad memories I’d like to forget.
The one thing my memory ever failed me at is my parents. I can’t remember a thing about them. Or why they’d abandon me.
But that’s why I’m here.
To find the truth.
“What are you doing here?”
I whip my head to the side, my eyes meeting the icy glare of the most beautiful man I have ever seen. Tall, dark, wavy hair and eyes the colour of molten chocolate. His skin is golden like he’s just come back from a month-long vacation on the French Riviera.
I scramble to my feet, taking a step toward him while myeyes drink in his toned body hidden beneath his perfectly tailored suit.
“What are you doing here?” he growls at me. Holy shit. That growl. I’m pretty sure I’ve just experienced full-body shivers.
“I’m here for a job interview,” I reply, somehow keeping my voice steady despite the clear disdain rolling off him. “Receptionist,” I clarify, handing him my resume and plastering on a smile.
He takes the paper from me with two fingers—as if it offends him to hold the same thing I have touched—his eyes never leaving my face. A flicker of annoyance passes through them before, finally, he looks down and scans the document.
I breathe a silent sigh of relief, not realising how heavy his stare was until it is gone and I can move again.
Not even ten seconds pass before his knuckles whiten, and he crumples my resume in his fist, letting it fall to the floor.
“No, thank you.”
I’m floored. “Excuse me?” Surely, I heard him wrong.
