Chapter 1
Beep! Beep! Beep! Emma Brooks woke with a start to the sound of her alarm. She groaned, as she pulled her pillow over her head in an attempt to muffle the sound, but it continued to pierce through her eardrums. With mild irritation, she rolled off her mattress and clumsily got to her feet. Slowly she trudged across the room, as she rubbed her eyes before she turned the alarm off. She had the impulse to throw it into the trash, but she just held it in her hand instead as she looked at the pale green numbers.
7:45 A.M.
She hadn’t woken up this early in a very long time.
As a recent college graduate, she was used to sleeping in most mornings. She had always been a night owl, so waking up early felt unnatural. She stretched herself out, and tried to get the blood pumping through her veins before she walked over to the window.
Outside, the sun was still tired and sluggish. It barely made its way over the tree line. Little birds fluttered from tree branch to tree branch, worms dangled from their beaks. It seemed like the early bird really did catch the worm after all. Still, would Emma’s efforts to get up early make a difference?
She rubbed her eyes and walked over to her closet. Most of her clothes were from thrift shops. After several years in school, she had learned to live on a budget. But as she looked at her closet now, she bit her lip. What was she supposed to wear to an interview? She looked through her baggy sweaters and ripped skinny jeans, none of it looked appropriate for the multi-billion-dollar company she was about to visit.
She ran her fingers through her luscious brown hair; she tussled up her curls even more; as she gnawed on her bottom lip. She looked at the time: 7:51. She didn’t have the time to go to the store now. Besides, stores weren’t open until nine and that was when she was expected to arrive at Mayflower Industries. What was she supposed to do?
Desperately, she yanked open all her drawers. Frantically trying to find something she might have overlooked. Articles of clothing flew everywhere. A tank tops that varied in length. Old panties she no longer wore. Jeans she could no longer tug over her hips. Beanies with holes in them.
“Where did I put my pant suit?” She asked herself, as she sat cross-legged in the middle of the room, surrounded by her wardrobe. Most people had a chair to pile all of their clothing on, she had the floor.
As a graduate of marketing, she had been to plenty of interviews where formal attire was required, but now, it seemed like every pantsuit she ever owned had disappeared into thin air. Frustrated, she leaned forward, as if assuming a child’s pose in yoga. She lay there for a few minutes, until she caught sight of a few boxes that were under her bed. Through the clear plastic, she noticed what looked like a black pencil skirt.
She rolled over onto her stomach before she dove for the box and pulled it out as quickly as she could. She pried off the top and smiled brightly. Eureka! She had hit the jackpot. Stylish pencil skirts, formal dress pants, button-up blouses of various colors and blazers. All of her business casual clothing was there. She riffled through her options, before she finally decided on the pencil skirt that first grabbed her attention and a white blouse with gold buttons that flattered her upper torso.
Victorious, she brought her outfit into the bathroom before she started to undress. When she turned on the shower, it struggled to spurt out water. When it finally did, it just trickled a pathetic stream of lukewarm water, even though Emma had set the temperature to hot.
“Oh, come on!” She grumbled to herself. “This can’t be happening today of all days!” She kicked the side of the tub as if that would solve her problems. She instantly regretted her decision as he big toe radiated with a throbbing pain that made her hop up and down on one foot, curing to herself. The plumbing rumbled like a monster and Emma ducked for cover, ready for everything to explode. Fortunately, nothing did.
She tried to turn the knob in a different direction, but the shower simply refused to work. She growled. “This stupid apartment.” Irritated, she turned it off. She had leased this studio with what little money she had saved up during her college years. It wasn’t much, but she had expected it to at least be functional. Every day, she seemed to find more problems with it and still had three months left on her lease before she could leave.
Eventually, she forfeited her struggle. She would just have to go to the internship without a shower. This was not an ideal situation, but there wasn’t anything she could do about it at this point. She had wasted enough time already.
With a sigh, she pulled the black pencil skirt over her wide hips. It took some effort to pull the zipper all the way up to her tapered waist line. Feeling like she was about to break into a sweat, she took a minute to compose herself before she grabbed her blouse.
She slowly buttoned up her blouse as she admired herself in the mirror. Her long, shapely legs were on full display. Her milky white flesh contrasted well with the dark fabric of the skirt. She grinned; as her eyes moved up her body. She had always been ample-chested and over the years, she had just come to accept them as one of her natural assets.
With all the buttons properly fastened, she ran her fingers through her hair; it fell in place to frame her heart-shaped face. Growing up she had suffered from teenage acne but now that had finally disappeared to reveal beautiful porcelain skin. Her lips had a sexy pout to them like a pink rosebud about the bloom. The weight she had lost as an undergraduate gave her a lean, sexy figure that made her feel confident about herself, but at the same time, she knew she still had some problem areas she needed to work on.
Upon further inspection, she noticed that her white bra was partially visible through her shirt. She frowned and wondered if she should change. She undid the top button of her shirt, and contemplated on how low she should leave it. Should she try for the sexy and scandalous vibe or the prude and professional one? In the end, she settled for a mixture of both. She pulled her hair into a tight professional bun, but kept her outfit the same.
As the minutes ticked by, she applied her makeup as quickly as she could. Her fingers shook as she applied her eyeliner. Her mind tried to foresee her interview. What kind of questions would they ask her? What if she made a complete fool of herself? What if she didn’t get the job? How would she pay rent when the bill knocked on her door?
She took a deep breath and looked at herself in the mirror. She tried to compose herself as she clung to the edge of the sink. Eventually, she walked away, and slipped on her beige heels. When her toes were jammed together in the front, she nearly howled with pain. Her big toe, still sore from her outburst against the tub, protested against the uncomfortable choice in footwear. Emma considered putting on some flats, but it would be mission impossible to find them. Besides, she didn’t have the time. She would just have to deal with the pain.
Limping slightly at first, she gathered all her stuff, and made sure she had a copy of her resume. Carefully, she tucked it away into the pocket of her purse. Finally, she was ready to leave the apartment; she hoped to kick-start her new life with a successful interview.
◆◆◆
But things did not go as smoothly as Emma would have liked. As she walked down the street toward the bus stop, the bus had already driven away. She tried to run after it, but her heels impeded her speed. She cursed under her breath, and wondered how she would get to the city now that she had missed the bus. She looked at her phone: 8:14. She was due at Mayflower by 9:00. She could try and get there on foot, but then she ran the risk of perspiration and with a white shirt that wasn’t the best idea.
Quickly, she pulled out her phone and checked the online bus schedule, optimistic that there might be another one in a few minutes. Of course, the only other option arrived at 9:15. With no other choice, Emma slung her purse over her shoulder and started to walk toward the city. It didn’t take long for her feet to ache. The cheap material of her shoes dug into the back of her heels. No doubt when she reached her destination, she would have painful blisters on top of her already throbbing toe.
Overhead, the sun didn’t make things any easier. It beamed down on her. Emma was forced to squint through its rays; she feared that the sweat that had already begun to form on the edges of her hairline would spread onto her face and ruin her makeup. Why hadn’t she spent the extra ten dollars to buy waterproof makeup? She regretted her frugality more than ever now.
As she walked, people passed by, and looked at her with odd expressions. It was uncommon to see a well-dressed woman on foot by herself. Emma tried to avoid their stares as she kept her head high. She wasn’t going to let strangers humiliate her, but then she laughed at herself as the thought that she had already done a pretty good job of that occurred to her.
Eventually, she reached the center of town where cars nudged each other as they squeezed into tight spaces. Horns echoed through the streets as Emma looked down at her phone where she had texted herself the address. South Main St. She looked around, as she tried to find a street sign, but for whatever reason, they didn’t seem to exist in this part of town. She contemplated asking someone for directions, but no one looked like they were willing to spare a minute to help her. With no other option, she trudged forward. If only she hadn’t used most of her data to watch funny cat videos at the café, she could have used her GPS to smooth things along right now.
She followed her gut instinct, and finally arrived at the intersection of South Main and Westminster. To her relief, she saw the large glass skyscraper she had seen on the company’s website. She looked down at her phone one more time: 8:53. She would have to hurry if she wanted to arrive on time.
As her shoes clicked against the uneven sidewalk, she focused on her balance. A fall right now would be catastrophic. Luckily, she made it to the building’s entrance without an accident. She took a deep breath, and stepped into one of the chambers of the revolving door as a large man in a light-colored business suit took the one adjacent to her. He pushed on the door with such force that Emma was dragged along in a circle and eventually ejected into the building’s lobby. She took in a deep breath and straightened herself out, she looked back to glare at the individual that had nearly killed her, but he was already gone.
She sighed and pushed a strand of hair behind her ear before she walked up to the front desk. As she waited for the receptionist to finish her call, she subtly admired the luxurious corporate building.
There was a large water fountain near the windows where men clad in expensive business suits yammered into their cell phones. The water bubbled out of three-tiered tower before cascading over the edge. The sound of falling water added to the peaceful ambiance of the room. Little, stone carved birds lingered on the edge ledges like they were about to dip their beaks into the water and take a sip.
Overhead, crystal chandeliers decorated the ceiling. They were made of a thousand little shards of crystal spooned onto an invisible wire, creating the illusion that it was levitating in the air. Each crystal was cut in such a way that it refracted the light, casting little rainbows onto the ceiling.
The front desk was large, crafted out of well-polished mahogany wood. It took up much of the back wall, and its dark color contrasted so starkly with the rest of the room that it acted as a focal point, helping customers gravitate toward it.
“Can I help you?” The receptionist’s voice was shrill and high-pitched. She tapped on the edge of the desk, her yellowed fingernails apparent under the dull shine of a transparent nail polish.
“Yes. I’m here for an interview with Mr. Limerick.”
“Ah, marketing. Yes. That would be on the thirteenth floor.” She said before she typed away on her laptop again, while she purposefully ignored the woman that stood in front of her.
“Do you mind telling me where the elevators are?”
The woman looked up at her with an expression of annoyance. Her thin pink lips were pressed into a tight line. “Down the hall and to the left.” Her syllables were curt and final. She had exhausted all of her conversation skills for the day.
Emma walked away, a little frazzled by the reception. Still, she prided herself on her optimism as she walked down the hall, to look for the elevator. A soft ding assured her that she was headed in the right direction. As she got to the elevators, the doors slammed shut. She tried to rush forward to press the button, but the elevator was already gone, and headed for the top floor: 8:58. She bit her lip as she realized that the next one might make her late in the end, despite her best efforts to arrive on time.
To her relief, a second elevator dinged a few seconds later and she stepped inside, accompanied by a woman who wore a gray pantsuit.
The woman eyed the keypad for a moment before turning abruptly. “Why are you headed for the thirteenth floor?” She asked, as her blue eyes took in every inch of Emma’s being.
“I’m headed for an interview.”
The woman’s gaze turned hostile. “Me too.” She said. Her voice as sharp as the edge of a paper. She seemed like the kind of woman that could give someone a nasty paper cut. Emma’s posture became rigid as the tension in the elevator rose.
“Well, I wish you the best of luck.” She said politely.
The woman ground her teeth together, obviously irritated by the remark. Emma grinned; she knew that had gotten under the woman’s skin. Insincerity was always the best weapon in hostile corporate situations.
Most people thought Emma was simply a sweet girl, but under her innocent demeanor was a girl that knew how to hold her own in competitive situations. It was how she had gotten into one of the best colleges in her state. It was also how she managed to get this interview in the first place. Emma prided herself on being an ace in a deck full of face cards.
Finally, they arrived at their destination. The woman fled immediately, her hips swayed as she walked up to the office. Emma followed, the smirk on her face only widened. She had rattled the woman, and hopefully that would work to her benefit. All she had to do now was get through the interview and hope she was a better candidate. At this point it seemed likely. Anyone who was rattled by a small elevator exchange would never make it in the marketing world where people are apt to get in your face, insult you, and even play dirty to get what they want.
Confident that she could handle these situations better than the other woman, she smirked to herself. With a newfound swagger, Emma sat down in the longue, and eased into the leather sofa. She waited for her shot at success to begin.