Chapter Nine
A second interview. I don’t know how or why, but JenCar called me in for a second interview for Friday. I would’ve worn my favorite cream shirt, but that was still at Morgan’s, and despite my request for the ticket, Devon had failed to give it to me. I texted Paige for an outfit idea. Instead I got a text from Jayce that wasn’t exactly nice. There wasn’t time to argue. I’d show her the text later.
So I wore the same suit but with a silk shell I found at a secondhand shop back home. The wine-red color reminded me of the stain on my cream, but I did my best to put the thought out of my mind. If I nailed this interview, I wouldn’t have to worry about driving home for Bradley’s birthday. It didn’t pay much, but it paid enough for gas. I didn’t want to dip into my savings or use my credit card if I didn’t have to. I’d finally paid my credit card off last fall after going a little overboard after I’d gotten it. That was not something I needed to do ever again.
I stepped into the lobby of JenCar with as much poise and confidence as I could fake. Inside I was shaking like a leaf in a tornado. Mr. Anderson walked through the door by the receptionist desk with Devon fast on his heels. Devon, as usual, looked all business and very smug. But that didn’t mean anything. If I had learned anything about him, it was that smug was his go-to expression. He thought he nailed the second interview. In reality, he probably had.
I’d never met someone who could transform into who they needed to be at a whim. Our sophomore year, Devon played the role of dumb blonde for a female prof who’d taken a liking to him. He didn’t need the extra attention she gave him for the basic calculus coursework, but he used it to his advantage. There was never any doubt in my mind that she graded his work on a curve, ensuring Devon an A that he would’ve gotten either way. I couldn’t help but wonder if the Devon I’d seen glimpses of was the real one or if he was just playing another role in his arsenal.
Besides, Anderson probably intended on hiring him the minute he sent in his resume. Family connections always helped even if it wasn’t fair to the rest of us. That only made everything four times as hard for me.
“Hopefully the team won’t be affected by the actions of two players.” Mr. Anderson nodded to me as he led Devon into the center of the lobby.
“I hope not, sir, but there’s bound to be some punishment.” Devon flinched, but he recovered quickly.
Mr. Anderson nodded and shook Devon’s hand. “Mr. Miller, we’ll be in touch.”
“I look forward to it, sir,” Devon said with a smile that most people would think was charming, but I saw it for what it was: fake. He raised his eyebrows at me, then strode from the building.
“Ms. Dawson, this way, please,” Mr. Anderson said as he headed back toward the door.
I shrugged out of my coat, careful not to mess up my hair as I unwrapped the scarf. The wind chill was negative ten and my cheeks burned against the heat of the building. I was so ready for winter to just end.
Mr. Anderson walked at a brisk clip toward a conference room at the north end of the building. I had memorized every bit of the layout the last time I was here. A freakish habit of mine. I hadn’t used a GPS for anything other than geocaching with my little brothers.
I followed him into the small conference room. At the table sat three other people I recognized from the JenCar website. George Hanson, Vice President of JenCar’s Madison location, took the seat at the head of the glass table. To his right sat Madeline Upton, the HR director, and to his left Roger McPherson, CFO of the Madison plant. Mr. Anderson took a seat next to Ms. Upton and motioned for me to sit at the end of the table opposite of Mr. Hanson.
It was a united front against a lone applicant. If the positioning was meant to intimidate me, it worked. I did my best not to let it show, keeping my chin up and making eye contact with each person at the table. Mr. Anderson cocked his head to the left. Ms. Upton led the charge with the same questions Mr. Anderson had asked about my education. This time I did not fumble as I answered.
“Tell me, Ms. Dawson, what’s a transition fit?” Mr. Anderson asked.
I smiled. This was standard knowledge in the engineering field. Fits determined how tight or loose parts could be. Everyone entering the field had to know the difference between clearance, interference, and transition fits and how to utilize them for maximum productivity. I responded with a clear, concise answer. They asked about heat treatment, factors, castings, and cold drawing. I gave them the right answers. My confidence soared and I relaxed.
“What programs do you use on your own?” Mr. Anderson asked.
It was like a pin to a balloon. I wanted to sink into my chair. Some engineering students had software on their computers. I couldn’t afford any of the programs so I used them in the lab. It wasn’t as if I was alone in this. Devon had AutoCad on his laptop and his desktop. He made sure every single person in the department knew that.
“Uh…” I stuttered, drawing a raised eyebrow from Ms. Upton. “I use AutoCad and SolidWorks at the engineering lab.”
“And outside the engineering lab? How do you get your coursework done?” Mr. McPherson pressed.
“All of my coursework is done in the lab.” I stared them each in the eye. Why should I be ashamed of my lack of money? It wasn’t my fault. I worked my ass off to get the scholarships that paid for 80 percent of my tuition. I worked my ass off to keep those scholarships. And I worked my ass off to keep my apartment. Just because I lived frugally didn’t mean I should be ashamed of it. “The software is too expensive and I live on a limited budget.” No response from any of them. “The lab provides exactly what I need to get my work done and allows me the ability to learn two separate programs. Having any software on my personal computer would, no doubt, provide an advantage to my comfort, but it wouldn’t give me added advantage of becoming an expert on two different systems.”
Again, no reaction. I would’ve hated to play poker with these people. I’d lose everything I owned.
Mr. Hanson moved onto another question that required a robotic answer. The software question was a problem. I understood the reason regardless of why they asked. JenCar had sensitive materials on government contracts, even if the Madison location was strictly private aircraft. They needed people who could jump in and do the job once they were hired. The internship was an audition. If I couldn’t jump in straight away, was I worth the hire? I didn’t think it would stop me from getting the internship, but it would give them reason to pause or watch me closer than they would Devon Miller.
Mr. Anderson escorted me to the lobby, saying the exact same thing he said to Devon. I’d know where I stood sooner rather than later.
“Do you have any questions about what this internship, should you get it, entails?” Mr. Anderson asked.
I smiled, more to myself than to him. “Not about the job, sir.”
“But you do have a question,” he stated as he held the lobby door open. “Please, go ahead.”
I stopped near the reception desk and faced him. “I just wondered how many women are in the engineering department.”
A snort come from behind the desk, but I didn’t turn to see who had overheard my question.
Mr. Anderson’s expression never changed, but he tilted his head. “None.”
Yet, I thought and almost said. But fortunately, I kept my mouth shut. “Interesting. Thank you for your time.”
Mr. Anderson took the hand I offered. “One way or another, Ms. Dawson, you’ll hear from us soon.”
“I look forward to it,” I said, feigning more confidence than I had.
Mr. Anderson nodded and turned on his heel, disappearing behind the door. I glanced over at the same woman who had signed me in. She smiled and gave a thumbs-up.
I hurried home and changed into my waitressing uniform—the interview had gone longer than expected. I pulled into the parking lot with very little time to spare. My cell rang the minute I stepped into the kitchen, the pots and pans banging in the dishwasher. I headed into dry storage where it was a little quieter. My frozen fingers barely managed to swipe answer before realizing I didn’t recognize the number.
“Hello?” My breath fogged the screen.
“Ms. Dawson, it’s Rex Anderson.” He paused long enough for my heart to stop beating. “Your second interview was impressive. We’d like to offer you an internship here at JenCar starting next week.”
“Thank you so much,” I gushed before checking my enthusiasm. “I mean, thank you, sir. I really appreciate this opportunity.”
“The position will work approximately twenty hours a week and, of course, is paid hourly.”
I nodded as if he could see me.
“Do you have a moment to go over your class schedule?”
His warm voice made the cold outside seem nonexistent. Or was that my imagination? I tried to remain calm as I gave Mr. Anderson my class schedule, grateful once again for taking classes only on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. Having Tuesdays and Thursdays completely free allowed me to work eight hours those days so I could make up the other four hours on Monday afternoons. And the internship wouldn’t interfere with my job at the steakhouse. It wasn’t a lot of money at twelve-fifty an hour, but it would put an extra thousand dollars in my checking account for unexpected expenses. Like dry cleaning bills and deluxe hot cocoas.
“Liv?” Kit said as he peeked into the room.
I held up my finger. “Thank you again, sir.”
Kit’s eyebrows shot up. “Did you get it?” he mouthed.
I answered him and responded to Mr. Anderson at the same time. “I’m really looking forward to everything I can learn at JenCar.”
Kit raised his fist in the air and disappeared into the kitchen. As I hung up, I heard him shout to Logan that I’d gotten the internship.
I breathed a sigh of relief. I’d done it. This was going to happen. I was going to prove to them that they’d hired the right man for the job. And that man just happened to be a woman.