I take a seat and wait nervously for about fifteen minutes before I hear a set of expensive heels clacking toward me and look up to see a tall African American woman smiling down at me.
“Mr. Crawford?”
I give a slight nod to confirm my identity and get to my feet, extending my hand. “Will.”
“I’m Maya, Emily’s assistant. Just follow me and I’ll take your through to your interview.”
I follow Maya as she walks me through the sleekly designed office space. Glancing around, I see a room full of cubicles with staff working diligently. I breathe a sigh of relief as I spot a couple of guys in attire similar to my own.
We reach a pair of large offices, one with opaque glass walls, the other with transparent. As we walk past the opaque walls I hear an angry voice growling, “You’ve got to be kidding me!” but I manage not to show any reaction on my face. I’ve seen the news and I know my potential new boss has been accused of sexual harassment by his former assistant, but Sunny assured me it’s all a load of crap so I’m not too worried. Besides, I really need this job.
“Here we are,” Maya says brightly as we arrive at the door of the office with the transparent glass. Inside, a pretty brunette, who I presume to be Emily Cox, is working at her computer.
Maya opens the door and Miss Cox glances up from her work. “Em, I have Will Crawford here for his interview.”
“Thanks, Maya. Send him in.” Miss Cox offers a soft smile and stands, striding over to me to shake my hand. “Mr. Crawford—pleased to meet you, I’m Emily.”
I find it impossible not to return her smile, feeling at ease with her instantly. “You too, and please call me Will.”
“Okay then, Will, come and take a seat and we’ll start the interview.” She waves her hand toward a pair of sofas set up next to the enormous picture window, and I try not to gape as I take in the spectacular sprawling view of Manhattan, with Lexington Avenue just below us.
I sit as instructed and wait for her to close the office door and walk briskly over to join me on the other sofa, retrieving a manila folder from her desk as she brushes by.
She places the folder on the coffee table between us, opening it to reveal the resume I submitted a week ago. “So,” she says, sitting back in the sofa, “what do you know about CPG?”
I decide not to mention what I saw in the news this morning, and instead go straight to the info I’ve been gathering over the past few days. “Well, you’re a property development firm. A subsidiary of Cox International. Uh, about six years ago, you and your brother were given the run of this place and have managed to turn it into one of the most profitable branches of Cox International.”
She nods, smiling. “Impressive.”
My nervousness from earlier completely dissipates as the interview continues, her friendly and encouraging manner putting me at ease.
“Okay, Will, I see here you have a graduate degree in computer sciences. What made you want to apply for this position instead of pursuing a career in your chosen field?”
I bite my lip in hesitation, deciding to just go with the truth. “It’s still a career I want to pursue, but my priorities have changed recently and I need to make some sacrifices.”
“And you think working for us would be a sacrifice?” she asks, an eyebrow raised pointedly.
Fuck. “Uh, I didn’t mean—that wasn’t…” Shit, my hands are sweating.
She lets out a soft laugh. “Relax, Will, I was joking. I can understand being an assistant might not be everyone’s dream career. I just need to know the person we hire will take this job as seriously as if it were.”
I nod, spreading out my hands. “Then I’m your guy.”
She smiles. “So certain?”
I let out a breath, deciding to take the gamble. An interview really isn’t the best place to bring this up but I figure if anything will convince her how seriously I’ll take this job, it’s this. “My mom had a stroke last month and insurance won’t fully cover the cost of her rehab.” I pin her with my most earnest look. “I’m not telling you this because I’m trying to play the sympathy card, but I think you should know the reason I’m no longer willing to just scrape by on a part-time paycheck and ramen noodles while I work on the software I’m trying to develop. I promise you, if you hire me this job will become the second most important thing in my life. And I’m not the kind of person who’d just walk out on someone who took a chance on me.”
Emily nods thoughtfully. “I have to say, I appreciate your candor. I think we’ll leave it there for now.” She offers me a warm smile before getting to her feet. “Thanks for coming in, Will. I still have a couple more applicants to see, but we’ll let you know this weekend whether or not you were successful.”
I nod at her and stick out my hand for her to shake. “I appreciate you taking the time to see me.”
And then I make my way out of her office and back down to the ground floor. As I head out the front doors that lead onto Lexington, I scrub my hands through my hair in frustration, because I know I totally just blew that interview.
* * *
“Oh, for fuck’s sake, loser, will you stop looking so glum?”
I glance up from my drink to offer my other best friend, Mac, a deadpan stare. “Gee, thanks, your affectionate tone has sure helped to cheer me up.”
Mac merely rolls her eyes. “You’re being overdramatic, I’m sure it went fine.”
I shake my head and lift my drink for another sip. “I shouldn’t have mentioned Mom. It was completely unprofessional.”
“I thought you said she was really nice about it?” Mac asks curiously.
I shrug. “Yeah, but it’s not like she was going to be mean when someone says their mom’s just had a stroke.” I set my drink back down and rake a hand through my hair. I haven’t been able to stop berating myself since leaving the interview this afternoon; it was a dumb move, mentioning my mom’s situation. All it did was make me sound like I was the kind of person who would use emotional extortion to get ahead, and that’s not how I want to be perceived.
Mac lets out an annoyed huff and sets her drink down with a loud clunk. Then she steps around the table we’re standing at to grab me fiercely by the shoulders and stare determinedly into my eyes. Usually, I’m at least a head taller than her but she’s wearing boots with a sky-high heel tonight and the effect is a little intimidating. She definitely went all out with her club attire tonight. Between the boots, the tight dress, the red lips, and the way she’s fixed her pink-tipped black hair into a high ponytail, it all screams one thing: she’s looking to dance and hookup tonight. And considering I won’t be doing either of those things with her, it looks like I’ve got about an hour before we go our separate ways. Her to find a girl, or guy—or both—and me home to bed.
“William. Get a fucking grip. If she doesn’t hire you because of that one single slip up then this isn’t somewhere you want to work anyway.”
“I need a job, Mac,” I say, my voice full of the frustration and fatigue I’m feeling after so many unsuccessful interviews.
“And you’ll get one.” She lets go of my shoulders and steps back to the other side of the table. “And look on the bright side—at least if you don’t get this one, you won’t be working for a sexual predator.”