Chapter three - Roseanne
The brownstone was exactly how I had envisioned it. It was a throwback to a different era. The black marble of the counter and the steel appliances weren’t part of the brochure. The landlord had just finished upgrading and renovating the place. I didn’t need to see the whole thing, with the architecture more than enough to get me to put my hard-earned money down.
The landlord was quite helpful in getting me moved in. He was a kindly old gentleman of Chinese descent. I gave him the first month’s rent with a hefty retainer for damages if any were to occur. He even invited me to have dinner with him and his family on the weekend. It was nice to be included.
I had very little to my name. Thankfully, the furnishings came with the place, including a king-size bed. The internet was included in the price. I wasn’t going to need cable. I had everything I needed with the internet connection, including a phone with a one-way calling feature.
I had gotten something from the grocery store and heated it up in the microwave. It wasn’t as good as my mother’s home cooking. Shortly after eating, I headed to bed. My sheets were the one luxury I had brought with me. The thread count made me sleep like a newborn baby in the comforting embrace of her mother.
Waking up to the sound of a car alarm made me cringe. The blinds were heavy and dark enough not to let too much light in. It was barely 7:00 a.m. I had an hour to get ready before the interview process. I’d done my due diligence on Mr. Snowdon to know he was a self-made billionaire. Nobody had given him a damn thing and I wanted to learn his secret of success.
I padded my way down the hallway until I was standing in a very hot shower, steaming up the mirror. It was a welcome respite to enjoy how the hot water cascaded in rivers down my body. My apprehension and tension about how I was going to announce myself to Mr. Snowdon were temporarily dissolved.
I decided to wear the same thing that I had on the flight, freshly laundered in the washer and dryer combination in a closet made for just the occasion. The clothing was already laid out on my bed waiting for me when I emerged with a towel draped around me.
I heard the announcement of an email on my laptop. One look confirmed my suspicion. My mother was worried about me and was biting her nails trying to get in touch with me. I had given them no warning about my sudden abandonment. The brief message I had left them did very little to explain.
“I know you’re probably all right, but please give us a call or send us a message at your earliest convenience,” she wrote. “Your father worries you are lying in a ditch somewhere begging for help. You know how he gets about his little girl and how protective he can be. I hope you find what you’re looking for. We had to call the cops on Jason. He showed up drunk, swinging a baseball bat and waking up the neighbors. Sometime today we are going to get a restraining order to keep him fifty yards away from us at all times.” She ended by telling me how much they missed me, but they knew this was something I had to do.
I carefully constructed a message with very little detail of where I landed. I couldn’t risk any of this information falling into the wrong hands. I had gotten away from the nightmare and I had no interest in reliving the ordeal.
I could smell the fresh paint on the walls. It was a good thing I wasn’t allergic to latex. It was a neutral color meant to allow the occupant to put their own touch on things. My analytical brain was more about functionality than style.
I did have a pastime that I had never shared with anyone. Paint-by-number had given me an outlet for any kind of frustration. Not even Jason knew of the hidden spot in the basement of our two-bedroom home dedicated to my hobby. My pain was intricately splashed onto the canvas in bold black and red colors. It was a cathartic exercise and somewhat responsible for how I had finally cut the ties the puppet master was using to control me.
I got dressed and twirled in place to see myself from every angle. The red high heels were to hopefully grab the attention of Mr. Snowdon. I wanted something unique without being a carbon copy of everyone else.
“I know you can do this. Put one foot in front of the other and don’t look back. You can’t let Jason define you. No man should have the satisfaction of making any woman feel small and insignificant. I feel confident and self-assured. This is my job to lose. I won’t let some idiot with no brain in her head bump me out of the line. Nobody is going to intimidate me.” I kept repeating it like my own personal mantra. They were words to live by.
I got into Lotus Position on my bed and closed my eyes to block out the ambient noises outside of the room. It felt good to be at one with myself. There were no obstacles I couldn’t overcome with perseverance.
“I can’t go in there looking confused. My love of cars is going to give me an edge over the competition. The only stumbling block is my résumé. I don’t have any real experience. I will be able to convince them to give me a chance to prove myself.” I was breathing smoothly in through my nose and out through my mouth to get rid of all the bad toxins in my body.
Living healthy wasn’t necessarily just about the body. The mind could get cluttered with nonsense. I was trying to avoid any unnecessary distractions. I was my own worst enemy. Sabotaging the interview would be easy if I found myself stumbling for words. Practicing was giving me the muscle memory to answer any of their questions.
I could smell the coffee brewing and the necessary pick-me-up of caffeine was waiting for me. I had been trying to find a way to intravenously consume the caffeine without any hassle. Sipping it was taking away from my day. These were minutes I could’ve used in a more productive way.
I looked around and felt at home. The exposed beams had this classic and modern touch. The iron railing leading to the second floor was a remnant from how the place looked back in the day. It was a mix of old and new coming together. I thought it was going to be awkward, but it wasn’t. I was content, but still not looking forward to the judgment looking across me at the interview. It was most likely my insecurities getting the best of me.
I rummaged through my purse until I found my secret weapon. It was a subtle perfume not overpowering to the senses. It was a pleasure to inhale with a halo of the sweet essence surrounding me. I made sure to apply it to my neck and between my breasts as well as the inside of my wrists.
My makeup was sparse. I felt it was unnecessary to paint my face like a clown or some common escort looking for her next John. I was ready for war. God help anybody who stood in my way. The confidence was building by the second.
The frosted glass on the front door made it hard for anybody to see inside. I closed the drapes and looked at the bus schedule. It dawned on me that I could probably walk the few blocks to the office. I had not only chosen the place because of the architecture. It was all about location and how easily I could come and go as I pleased.
I heard the clicking of my heels on the sidewalk and I stopped for a moment at the flower shop to inhale the fragrance of the many species. It was this cacophony of aromas that assaulted my olfactory sense. My favorite was the prerequisite red rose with all of its thorns. It reminded me of how I had shed two hundred pounds of dead weight from my life. Jason was the thorn and I was the bloom trying desperately to start over.
I went a few more blocks and found myself staring up at a wall of windows. The best view was most likely at the very top. The ladder of success didn’t go any higher. It was a long way down. It was a lot of responsibility and no doubt strangled Mr. Snowdon on any given day.
I straightened my back and walked with purpose. I took the elevator up to the necessary floor and found many applicants fine-tuning their resumes. It looked like a cosmetic doctor and his clientele had walked through the door. I felt a little overdressed. These girls were using the advantages God and plastic gave them.
I took a seat and tried not to make eye contact with any of them. I concentrated my efforts on looking at the classic motif of black and white. You couldn’t go wrong with those two colors, displayed in everything from the floor to the furnishings.
The seat was uncomfortable and made of some aerodynamic design. It was supposed to make your posture better. The black leather stuck to my legs.
There was no girl behind the front desk. This process was what was going to fill that spot.
“I don’t suppose you have a pen?” a girl asked me. She was my age of twenty-one, but she was clearly ready to break away from the control of her parents.
“Keep it,” I said as I handed her one. “I have plenty more where that came from.”
She was in no mood for idle chitchat. She went back to mumbling underneath her breath and scratching with the pen I had provided her with.
I had no doubt there were those who were ready to embellish the truth to suit their purposes. I was going to rely on my good sense and judgment to force them to look at me as a viable candidate.
I heard two people talking, and I glanced up to see a handsome man with a buzz cut walking with the long strides of his six foot two, two hundred twenty pound frame. There was no wasted motion. He was still talking when we made eye contact. It felt like butterflies were trying to escape my stomach.
He almost walked into a door, but somehow he avoided it like some unseen radar was directing his movements. He disappeared behind the closed doors of the boardroom. The air was ripe with tension as each person walked through to the other side. I could almost sense certain anticipation for what their boss was going to say next.
I was in fear of being lost in the shuffle. I was going to have to stand out from the crowd. The only way to do that was to leave a lasting impression.
I was impressed with their latest offering. It was a little pricey, but the money was inconsequential in the grand scheme of things. It was always about the first to market. Thomas Snowdon was known for striking when the iron was hot.
He came out and whispered to the woman conducting the interviews in a loud enough voice to be heard by the other candidates. “I want to see her in thirty minutes.” He was motioning in my direction. I looked around to make sure I wasn’t fooling myself into thinking his interest was in me.
The girl conducting the interviews didn’t look very happy with how he had suddenly taken control. It appeared he was going to personally sit in on the interview, which was only going to make me more nervous.
I was fed up and my nerves were frazzled. Thankfully, I had something to take off the edge. It wasn’t some illegal substance. I had brought along a thermos of hot herbal tea.