I can do this. It’s a job interview. I need the job. I want the job.
I have enough in savings that I don’t have to work, but I seriously think if I stay home and watch that cartoon about a British pig one more day, I may lose my shit. Besides, the girls and I need this; they need me to feel like myself. And, until I slipped my feet back in my favorite black heels and zipped up my pencil skirt this morning, myself had been lacking these last few weeks.
I feel like I’m constantly reassuring myself that it’s perfectly fine to love and adore my nieces while simultaneously wanting to cry and beg for any adult to speak to me. I found myself fantasizing about adult communication last week. It’s only been a few weeks and it’s like I’m living on some island in the middle of Toddlernation.
How did Dakota do this? Maybe it’s different when you carry and birth the children, but sweet baby Jesus in a manger I need to get back to work. Or nap for the rest of my life. Maybe that. Maybe a lifelong nap is what I really need.
And sex. Yep, that would be nice, too. Oh, sex with a long nap and a shower long enough to shave my legs. Yes! How do I get that day? Who am I kidding, even before I offered to care for the girls I didn’t have those days. To say Kent was less than romantic would be an understatement.
Romance isn’t even what I needed; okay, need. Sometimes a girl just wants to be ravished. To have her panties pulled to the side and taken. Surely, good wall sex isn’t just something you read about or watch in a movie. There must be a guy who is willing to take the risk and break a few pictures.
Right?
God, I sound pathetic. I’m not. Just really fucking lonely. And by the way my mind is spinning, horny as a fourteen-year-old boy.
The British-sounding woman on my GPS draws me from my thoughts, my soft porn thoughts, and alerts me of my upcoming left turn. I’d like to point out that I always thought of the British as being kind and Mary Poppins like. This GPS woman doesn’t sound kind or like she has a spoonful of sugar. She sounds snooty and like she’s slightly judging my driving skills each time I miss a damn turn.
Focusing on the judgment of the GPS lady helps distract me from this pit in my stomach. I feel as if my life depends on what happens in the next thirty minutes. This feels like a “make it or break it” situation. The tension in my neck and shoulders isn’t a result of the interview itself. No, the job advertised doesn’t sound overly complicated, not like the high-stress job I left behind, and that sounds perfect.
As I make the right turn into the Strauss Construction parking lot, I take deep, cleansing, and calming breaths. A four-count in and four-count out, I feel the tension leaving my shoulders. Pulling into a parking space next to a very large and obnoxious truck, I allow myself a few minutes to take in my surroundings.
The office is a modular structure that sits in the center of a large gravel lot. A more permanent building sits at the furthest end of the lot with a few cars parked beside it. I don’t see anyone else around and glance to the clock. It’s still early by most standards, but I understand that in the construction business, most crews are on the job sites earlier than normal business hours. I guess with Cali’s early-morning wakeup calls, this may just be the perfect job for me right now.
Turning my car off, I grab my phone from where it sits on the charger and scroll to my mom’s name on my contacts list. When I set up this interview, she agreed to come stay a few days to help me with the girls and get the house a little more unpacked and set up. When I left this morning, she was rearranging the kitchen cabinets. Normally, my Type A personality would kick in and I’d have said something to her about moving my glasses around. But, honestly, I was just happy to have the help that I didn’t even bother.
I tap the call icon on my phone and wait for her to answer. As I’m about to give up and hang up the phone, I hear my mother’s voice through the speaker, no hello and no hesitation in greeting.
“You can’t possibly be finished with your interview, Minnesota.”
Oh, Mother. That’s what I’d like to say, but my mom hates when I call her mother. But, then again, I hate when she calls me by my full name so it would serve her right to get a little payback. I don’t have time for the volley back and forth with name preferences.
“Mom, you know I hate when you use my full name.”
“Yes, dear, but it is your name. You really get your panties in a bunch when I call you Minnesota Eleanor so be grateful I didn’t do that.” Humor laces her response and I smile. My mom teasing me is normal and I’m grateful for that.
“Just stop, please. I need to get this job and I don’t want to go in there greeting Mr. Strauss with a negative attitude.”
“You don’t need this job, honey; this is your stubbornness at its fullest.” Here we go again. It’s not stubbornness, it’s a necessity. “Dad and I told you that we’re happy to help you with everything, a team if you will. I don’t know why you insist on being so damn independent.”
“I’m not having this conversation with you again. Can we stay focused? How are the girls?”
“They’re fine, dear. You’ve been gone all of fifteen minutes. Arizona just finished her breakfast and Cali is happily playing with a wooden spoon and pan.”
“Why does Cali have a spoon? She has a tub of toys, give her one of those.”
“A wooden spoon and pan was good enough for you kids. I don’t see why my grandchildren can’t play the same way.”
“Whatever. I thought about what you said last night, and I think we should start planning for you and Dad to have the girls a few times a month. They need some Nana and Papa time and I think I need a night with a book, a few glasses of wine, and a bubble bath.”
“I told you anytime you want. Why don’t I pack them up and take them tonight?”
I contemplate her offer for a split second before responding. “No, let’s plan to start in a few weeks. The girls and I need to start a routine and get comfortable here.” I know by her hesitation, I may have unintentionally offended her. “Besides, you’ll probably need a nap after this morning. Dakota failed to tell me sleep is actually like a new life battery for those two.” Crisis averted and we both laugh at that. It’s true, I can sleep eight hours and not feel completely rested but these little girls get a two-hour nap in and it’s like putting a new battery pack in them. “Look, Mom, I should go. I don’t want to be late.”
“I understand. Kick some ass, Minnesota. The girls and I are going to take a walk. I love you.”
“I love you too, Mom. I’ll see you in a couple of hours.”
Pushing the disconnect button, I drop my phone in my purse before pulling down the sun visor to check my reflection in the mirror. My makeup is minimal but enough to cover the circles under my eyes. My lips are painted pink, which draws the undertones of my skin out and helps me look far less exhausted than I really am.
That’s more than I can say for my hair. I had to make a sacrifice this morning and that sacrificial lamb was my hair. Normally my hair is long and flowing past my shoulders. I take the time to dry it and use product. I take the flat iron to it and ensure there are small curls and that my bangs are just so. Today, that was not the case. No, today, I needed the makeup to hide the circles under my eyes and thus my flat iron stayed blissfully cool in my drawer. My natural waves, which I’ve hated most of my life, are still cascading down my back, but my long bangs are clipped to the side, causing me to look less like the educated businesswoman I am and more like the beach bunny I used to be.
With a deep breath, I remind myself that this is just an interview. I’m going to impress the heck out of the owner with my work history. He’s going to be wowed by how organized and detail oriented I am. Maybe if I keep cheering myself on, the little nervous flutters in my stomach will subside.
This is only my second interview since college; I’m allowed to be a little nervous. Because I must be fully prepared for any meeting I walk into, I did a little research on Strauss Construction. The owner isn’t much older than me but from what online reviews indicated, he’s managed to build a wonderful reputation and his business is growing. And, considering this company guarantees I won’t have to interact with my ex-boyfriend, it’s already looking like the perfect fit.
I did it. Ninety minutes of talking with Jameson Strauss and I am officially the newest team member of Strauss Construction. Yes, I, Minnesota Eleanor Walker, former Senior Account Manager of a Fortune 500 company, am beyond excited to work for a company of seven.
Jameson Strauss is a very attractive man and his smile might have sent a few flutters to my stomach. But, that’s it. He didn’t hit on me, he didn’t have an expectation of me, and he didn’t seem to assume that because I’m blonde and tall, okay so not really tall but I do have an affinity for a good pair of heels, I wanted to blow him behind his desk for the job.
No, Jameson was nothing like the men I’ve encountered in business thus far. I’ll admit, my ability to maintain the interviewee position was difficult. I’m used to supervising and leading teams while creating and building new departments. Sitting across from a six-foot desk with a nervous Jameson Strauss was nothing I had experienced before. When I asked him if I could ask a few questions, he almost seemed relieved to let me control the rest of the interview. His business has grown significantly in the last year and, truthfully, he should have filled this position months ago. I’m grateful he didn’t.
Impressed with my ideas, he offered me the position on the spot. Relief spread across my body as he practically threw the new hire paperwork at me. Before signing the last of the paperwork, I ensured he fully understood my current situation with the girls. Not only was he not bothered about me caring for two small children with little help, he offered a few referrals for local women who offer daycare and babysitting. As focused as I was on finding employment, I hadn’t given much thought to long-term child care for the girls.
“Minnie, I’m really looking forward to working together. Thank you for taking a chance on our little company.”
“Are you kidding? You’re a godsend. Thank you, Jameson. And, thank you for the babysitter referral.”
Before I know what I’m doing, I’ve launched myself at him and pulled him into a hug. His arms stiffen at his side before he relaxes a little and pats my back with one hand. Very professional, Minnesota. Slowly peeling myself from the most awkward hug of my life, I grimace as I prepare for Jameson to revoke his employment offer. Instead, I find him smiling down at me with a little mischief in his eye.
A string of apologies by me and assurances from Jameson that no apologies are necessary, I grab my purse from the chair and hurry toward and out the door. Three steps down the stairs and I run smack into a wall of flesh. The scent of a man fills my senses as I stumble back. Two hands grip my arms, preventing me from landing flat on my ass. Shivers run down my spine as I gasp, looking up.
The sun is shining bright, causing a shadow to fall over the man’s face. I don’t need to see his face. It’s his presence, his scent, his voice that send my head spinning.
“Whoa there, sweetheart. Watch where you’re going or you’re likely to fall on that sweet ass of yours.”
And that feeling is gone. Jerk.
“Yeah, I’ll do that. Mind removing your hands from me?” My tone leaves nothing to be discussed. My hackles are up and I know this type. Asshole. Kent would never have referred to any part of me as “sweet,” but his need to point out my looks and when I wasn’t “putting in effort” with my appearance was a semi-regular occurrence.
The stranger releases my arms and I quickly skirt around him toward my car. Careful not to look back, I reach my car in a few strides and click the button to unlock the door. Once I’ve settled into my seat, I quickly look to see if the man is still standing there, but instead find the door to the office slamming. I sure hope that asshole isn’t someone I’ll have to encounter very often.
Pushing the button to start the car, I allow the air-conditioning to bring my body temp back to normal. I’m not certain if it’s the sun or the encounter with the stranger that has my skin on fire. Regardless, I’m grateful for the cooler temps in this car and going home to hang out with two little princesses.