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I put my coat away and placed the ipad on his desk, then stopped to dash off a quick message in the note app.
Thank you for the wonderful night. May I have my panties back, please? I may or may not be wearing any right now.
I smiled to myself. I totally was wearing panties under my green pencil skirt, but he didn’t have to know that.
“Excuse me?”
My head snapped up, and I closed the iPad cover guiltily. “Hi, can I help you?”
The woman standing in the doorway was basically cool on legs. She wore matte black leather pants, an artfully faded t-shirt for a band I’d never listened to but whose name I’d heard everywhere, and a gold fringe necklace. Her skin was light brown and flawless, and she wore a nude lip gloss to offset the dramatic look of her heavily lined eyes. She smiled, and she had the friendliest, warmest smile I’d seen on anyone whose last name wasn’t Osmond. “Hi, human resources sent me up. I have an eight o’clock interview?”
“Yes, of course.” I motioned for her to follow me back to my desk. I spoke over my shoulder. “I’m sorry, Mr. Elwood is running late this morning—”
“No, I’m not.” Neil’s voice held a note of surprise. He stepped from behind the partition that sectioned off the coffee counter. He raised his eyebrows as he sipped from a plain black mug.
I turned to the woman. “Can I get you anything? Coffee? Water? Soda?”
“No, thanks.” She pushed her dark, straight hair over her shoulder and stuck out her hand for Neil. “I’m Deja Williams.”
“Neil Elwood.” He shook her hand and gestured toward his office. “If you don’t mind, I’m going to have my assistant, Sophie, sit in on the interview. She’s been here longer than I have, and knows better than I do what it will take to replace her.”
I followed them into the office, trying to mentally control the embarrassed flush creeping up my neck. How could I have missed that he’d already arrived? I hadn’t wanted to be late, and on top of it, how was it going to look to our interviewee? Don’t try too hard, she’s not going to be that difficult to replace. That’s how it was going to look.
Neil paused beside the desk and flipped open the cover on the iPad. My note still illuminated the screen. I saw the corner of his mouth twitch as he read it, and it took all my willpower not to smirk.
His eyes met mine for only a second then his full attention turned to Deja Williams, who sat in the chair across from him.
I haven’t quite gotten over the cultural conditioning that makes us view other women as competition. It’s an ugly truth, but there it is. Deja should have been my kryptonite. She was cool and beautiful and funny. She answered every question sincerely, but with a warm, safe humor. She was perfect. According to all my usual math, I should have hated her instantly.
But it was impossible. When Neil asked about where she’d started in the industry, her answer was, “My plan originally was to work up from the mail room at Rock Monthly, become a staff writer eventually. Then I realized writing really wasn’t for me.” She told us what she liked about her last boss: “Margot wasn’t too specific, but we were on the same wave length, and I always made sure I got her what she was looking for.”
To top the perfection sundae, Deja had to leave her current job due to her boss stepping down as Editor-in-Chief of Rock Monthly. She didn’t just want the position I was vacating, she needed it, and she was capable of doing a good job.
Even if I didn’t stay at Porteras, I wanted to know the job I’d done for two years was taken care of. She was absolutely the right person to do that. I was convinced of it.
I think Neil was, too, though he played it cool. “So tell me, if you were working your way up, why would you want to take another position as somebody’s assistant?”
Deja shrugged. “I’m good at it. Look, I believe I should play to my strengths. If I’m the best at what I do, I’m going to do that, even if it’s in a supporting role.”
Then I understood what it was about her I liked so much. She was like Holli’s long lost sister or something. They both had the same no-nonsense attitude, couched in a likable personality.
Neil asked her a few more questions, then Deja shook our hands and I showed her out.
“How do you think it went?” she asked me bluntly as we stepped into reception.
“If it were up to me, you’d be in.” Maybe I shouldn’t have said that. I’d overstepped my bounds. It was only fair to warn her, “I’m not sure how many other candidates he’s interviewing, though. I’ll try to put in a good word.”
