Chapter 6

 

New Experiences

 

Melissa

 

 

Despite my unease, after the call, I decided to travel to New York and interview for a chance at my dream. The trip occurred about a week after I found the invitation on my car seat.

I saw it as an opportunity I couldn't pass up. One interview could give me a chance. Beyond that, by accepting the invitation, I received an all-paid vacation and five thousand dollars cash. I didn’t have anything to lose, provided it was legit and not a scam to kidnap and sell me as a sex slave. My instinct was that the interview was real, but my gut also told me there was a hell of a lot more to this meeting.

Who paid someone for an interview and covered all that person’s expenses to find a future employee?

Unexpected obstacles had inundated me over the last two years, and I had two more to climb over to get to New York—my parents. With all the complications, one thing never strayed too far away and that was my determination. Even though I had weak moments and wanted to give up at times, my resolution pushed me further.

Karen promised to handle the hurdle of my parents. It was one of the things we had talked about during the initial call. The itinerary she sent included a forged invitation to attend a college open house in New York. It was supposedly a seminar to help college students apply to top US schools and increase their probability of being accepted. I didn’t know if anything like that existed, but neither did my parents. As dangerous as it was to lie and give my parents bogus plans, I took the risk for my dream, for Northwestern. There was also the bonus of a trip to New York with all expenses paid.

Monday afternoon I boarded a nonstop flight to New York. Karen had everything arranged from the moment I stepped onto the plane until I reached the hotel. Once I arrived, all I needed to do was text the number she provided, and a car would pick me up. The flight landed at about five thirty. I sent the text to the number in the email.

 

Me: I just landed.

 

Within seconds my phone dinged with a message for me to proceed straight to the pickup and drop-off area of the airport. My luggage was sent directly to the hotel for my convenience. I walked out the automatic doors into the bright sun and the smell of exhaust from the traffic of cars that lined the curb.

A man in his mid-twenties approached me and lowered his hat. He nodded and gave a professional smile. "Miss Summers?"

“Yes, I’m Melissa Summers.”

“My name is James. Karen Flores sent me to pick you up and drive you to the hotel. If you're ready?”

He didn’t just open the back door to a white stretch limo—he opened the door to a whole new world.

I nodded. “Thank you.”

I wasn’t sure how James managed to arrive in a matter of minutes, but I had a feeling this was the norm for Karen’s clients. I leaned down into the back of the limo. Shock wouldn’t even come close to my reaction. I was overwhelmed.

My reflection on the screen reminded me of a kid in a candy store with wide glossy eyes. Excitement like I’d never felt filled me. I had imagined my arrival in New York a hundred times, and never did a limo enter into the fantasy of the illusion. At that moment, I realized that no matter what happened in that interview, my life would change forever. Outside of the vehicle, it was the everyday world, but inside it was like I just entered the Twilight Zone of the rich and famous. Only a small minority lived in this world, and Karen had invited me into the sandbox to play.

The limo was new. I closed my eyes and inhaled the scent. Expensive. There was one thing I knew for sure: this car wasn’t a rent-by-the-hour limo. It was owned and operated by a wealthy individual or by a company who served only elite clients. As I sat on the cool black bench seat that faced the front, I ran my hands over the seat. The leather was creamy and felt smoother than that in standard cars. Installed between the two individual seats behind the driver was a fully stocked bar with high-end liquor and variously sized crystal glasses. The privacy divider wasn’t a typical screen that raised and lowered but a large monitor hooked to a laptop and secured to the top of the bar. The air conditioner kept the back of the limo cool even with the slider open to the sunroof as the sun shone through the glass top.

The limo became silent as James shut the door; the outside world disappeared. The car horns, echoes of voices, and the loudspeakers vanished. James opened the driver’s door, and only the slightest bit of sound reentered. The screen didn’t prevent all noise from entering, but it buffered most of it. The inside of the limo was like a sealed vacuum from the outside world, keeping it private. A small laugh bubbled out of me at the thought of a soundproof limo.

“Miss Summers,” James said as he handed me a heavy linen envelope. “Ms. Flores wanted you to open this before we arrive at the hotel. It has everything you need for your check-in.”

“Thank you.” I hadn’t even noticed the divider down until he called my name. Honestly, I wouldn’t have noticed much because I was too busy taking in my surroundings.

As I accepted the envelope, he turned and the privacy monitor rose. The envelope was the same as the one I found in my car a week earlier, consisting of thick linen paper. This one too had a blob of red wax imprinted with an “I” at the edge of the lip. I slid my nail under the seal to open it. I pulled out a stack of twenties with a note attached to the first bill.

 

Melissa,

Please use this cash to tip the doormen and bellhops at the hotel. James is one of our employees and does not require a tip. Your hotel confirmation number is 5984546. Instructions, dining cards, additional cash for tipping, and all the information needed for your visit will be sent to your hotel room once you arrive. Please read and follow the directive as it is essential for your interview.

Karen Flores

 

The limo swerved through the New York traffic for thirty-plus minutes as I watched the city pass by through the window. We passed areas with massive steel and glass towers interspersed with older buildings with historic character. No matter where we drove, the streets were littered with everyday people. The limo slowed, and James pulled toward the curb and stopped. The silence vanished when an older gentleman opened my door, and the noise of the city came back in stereo. A dark hand reached in to help me out of the backseat. I looked up and stopped.

“Welcome to the Ritz Carlton Hotel. It’s an honor to have you here,” greeted the gentlemen who opened my limo door. He was dressed in a long black coat and a top hat that matched that of the second man who held the hotel door open for guests as they entered.

All the words I wanted to say to describe the beauty before me were lost somewhere in my thoughts. I’m not sure when James approached from the other side, but he handed me my purse and the envelope I left on the seat.

“Miss Summers.”

I turned toward James.

“All of your luggage has already been sent to your room. Please call Karen or let the hotel know if you need anything. It was a pleasure to meet you. Enjoy your visit.” He bowed his head before he turned away and walked back toward the driver's seat.

“Madam,” the man who opened my door said. “Billy will escort you to the reservation desk and to your room once you're checked in.” He gestured toward a younger man dressed in livery.

I placed a twenty-dollar bill in his hand. I wasn’t sure if that was too much, but I figured if Karen expected me to give less of a tip, she would have included smaller denominations. “Thank you.” 

The doorman and Billy probably thought those were the only two words in my vocabulary. It was just so surreal, and I wasn’t able to keep up with the pace. The older gentleman opened one of the double doors and gestured for me and Billy to enter. I went first with Billy a few steps behind me.

Every few minutes poor Billy would misstep when I stopped with no warning. The hotel was absolutely beautiful, and I just wanted to soak it all in. Glamorous was the only word that came to my mind to describe it. The floors were cream-colored marble or tile—I wasn’t sure, but it exhibited such elegance. The reservation and concierge desks were a warm oak finish, each stylish and welcoming. Once my feet started to move again, we passed the concierge and headed to the reservation desk.

“Good evening. May I help you?” the person at the desk asked as I walked by.

“No, thank you. I just need to check in.”

“Welcome to the Ritz Carlton. I’m Samuel. If you need anything, please let me know. I’m here to make sure your stay is everything you imagined.”

I smiled at him. “Thank you.” I had become a broken record with thank you on repeat. The only positive was that I managed to give Samuel an actual answer. Billy walked with me to the reservation desk and waited as I registered.

"Hello, may I help you?" a young blond receptionist asked as she smiled. She didn’t appear much older than I was.

"Yes, I’m Melissa Summers, and I have a reservation."

"I just need your reservation number and identification please."

I handed her the confirmation number from the envelope that James had given me and my driver’s license.

"Yes, Miss Summers, we’ve been expecting you. Your room is ready, and your luggage was sent up a few minutes ago. I just need you to sign here, and then Billy will show you to your room and make sure everything is to your liking.”

"Thank you." I smiled.

“Enjoy your visit. You will find a list of numbers next to the phone. If you need anything at all, please let us know.”

Billy and I rode up in the elevator in silence. Once the doors opened, Billy signaled for me to proceed. I followed to the end of the hallway, and he used his master key card to open the door.

“Holy shit!” My jaw dropped. If I’d thought the entrance was dazzling, it paled in comparison to this room.

“Do you need anything else, Miss Summers?”

“Shit.” I laughed. “No, thank you.”

“Let us know if you need anything.”

“Billy, wait.” I reached in and pulled out two twenties and handed them to him. Again, I wasn’t sure if it was too much, but he’d escorted me from the limo to my room and deserved a larger tip than someone who’d simply opened the door.

When the door to the room closed, I jumped on the bed like a two-year-old child, bouncing with excitement. I jumped one last time and dropped on the large plush bed. As I lay there staring at the ceiling, I thought about everything. It was all so surreal. I’d never expected a first-class flight, limo, and hotel. It was so over the top—a world I could never have imagined.

This hotel was the most beautiful place I had ever visited. There was only one other place that came close—Regina and Peyton’s house in Myrtle Beach. My hotel room furniture was all done in a warm oak: the bed, desk, and nightstands were from the same collection. Across from the bed and nightstands was a desk with a TV mounted on the wall. A gold Victorian wingback chair was in the corner with a panoramic window a few feet from the nightstand. The spectacular view overlooked Central Park. Tall trees below were sprinkled with yellow, orange, and brown leaves. The park was surrounded by tall and short buildings. Time stood still as I gazed out onto a river of color outlined with barges of gray steel. A knock on the door woke me from the daydream of possibilities.

I answered the door, and Billy stood there with a large basket in his hands. “Miss Summers, I have a delivery for you.”

Once Billy left, I walked to the bathroom. No, it wasn’t a bathroom: it was a fucking spa. I mean all hotels had bathrooms, most being small with a basic white tub, sink, and toilet. The bathroom in this hotel wasn’t just an ordinary hotel bathroom—it was architectural art. A large garden tub separated the walk-in shower on one side of the room and a brightly lit vanity on the other. Little bottles of soaps, oils, shampoos, and bubble beads rested on the step of the garden tub. Silk flowers sat in modern vases on the granite counter and glass shelves stacked with candles were next to the oversize mirror. A door was off to the side, which led to the toilet hidden in its nook.

When I left Myrtle Beach, I’d hoped to have some time to explore the city. But instead, it seemed that tonight would be spent on the gift basket Billy had delivered. As I ordered room service, I sat on the bed and inspected the basket with a locket shaped tag hanging from the top.

 

Welcome Melissa, from Karen.

I untied the red bow, pulled out a thick envelope, chocolates, crackers, gourmet coffee, and flavored teas. I opened the chocolate box and snagged a piece and then moved on to the letter within the envelope. Just as on every other correspondence, the back of the envelope was sealed with an “I” embedded in red wax.

 

Melissa,

Welcome to New York. As you know, your invitation to interview for this program was based on your stellar academics and the recommendation by one of our benefactors. We pride ourselves on the successful matching of employee and client. To that end, we have provided you with the resources to ensure your success. Your success is our success. I have scheduled the first part of the interview for Thursday morning. Please follow all the instructions provided in the remaining envelope. I will be in touch with you on Wednesday to finalize the time and transportation for the interview.

Karen

 

I flipped the top of the envelope. Inside was another note, a few business cards, a prepaid credit card, and more cash. I didn’t even want to imagine how much this trip was costing or who paid for it all.

 

Melissa,

Appointments have been made on your behalf with each of the boutiques enclosed. Days and times are written on the back of the individual cards. Each shop has a list of the different attire required for your interview. Financial arrangements have been prearranged and will be billed to us directly by the boutiques and spa. Included is one thousand dollars prepaid credit for any nonessential items you may need. I have also enclosed additional cash for future tips. Tips are not required or expected at the boutiques. However, please be sure to tip each salon specialist at the spa. Tips for room service or another hotel chargeable should be added to the room.

Karen

 

Holy shit, I felt like I’d won the fucking lottery—without having to pick the actual numbers. The rest of the night I tossed and turned with little to no sleep, wondering if the entire week would be as overwhelming as today.

Tuesday was occupied with boutiques and shopping. Instead of asking for transportation, I walked, believing it would be the only way I would see New York with all the appointments tightly scheduled.

The first boutique I entered made me think of the scene from Pretty Woman. The saleswomen hovered over me just as when Edward took Vivian shopping. They brought crystal glasses of water for me to sip while they showed me outfits waiting for my approval or disapproval.

I tried on each outfit that I liked until three appropriate business garments were selected. The next boutique was for formal wear. It was a repeat of the first store, but along with the water, little sandwiches were provided as a snack. All the stores were instructed to send selected items straight to Karen once I passed the interview part of the process. The final boutique sold lingerie. I spent just as many hours in search of it as I did the other items requested. I must have tried on every color before settling on matching bras and panties in red, black, and white.

Though, I never knew intimate attire was part of a professional interview, I admitted, if only to myself, that wearing it made me feel sexy as hell. The saleslady said that I was to take this purchase with me because I needed to look confident during my interview.

According to the saleslady, confidence came from within. The undergarments provided that. She said that I needed to feel worthy, and the best way to achieve that feeling was to look worthy.

By the end of the day, I was exhausted. Instead of walking, I hailed a cab and made my way back to the hotel. My big plans to explore the city changed to a hot shower and dinner in bed.

Dinner arrived about an hour after I returned to the room. Pulling the serving tray next to the bed, I ate. After dinner, I snuggled into the covers. The next thing I knew, I woke up to the sun shining outside my window.

Wednesday was much the same as Tuesday, but instead of clothes shopping, I was pampered. I spent the entire day in the spa being treated like a princess—haircut, pedicure, manicure, and a full-body massage to help me relax. By the time they finished with me, it was again time for dinner. I debated on the downstairs restaurant, but at the last minute decided again on room service instead.

My phone buzzed just after I opened the door to my room. It was a New York number, but it wasn’t the same one Karen had called from before.

"Hello?" I asked as well as answered.

"Miss Summers, this is Karen Flores."

"Ms. Flores."

"Melissa, your interview is set for nine tomorrow morning. I have talked to the boutiques and everything will be delivered to my office, assuming the interview goes as I hope.

“I didn’t—”

She cut me off. “James will pick you up at exactly eight-thirty. Melissa, this is a very long process and will take much of the day—don’t keep James waiting.” Ms. Flores never took a breath as she spoke to me.

I wasn't sure if she always talked like that or if it was to ensure that I didn't have a chance to interrupt her.

"Melissa,” she went on. “I know this sounds extensive, but we at our company pride ourselves in making sure that all of our applicants have the best chance of success. If the first benefactor chooses another candidate, your application will remain on file for a potential match to other clients. I’m sure you have questions, but please save it all until tomorrow."

"Thank you, Ms. Flores. Is there anything else I need or should do before tomorrow?”

In a stern voice, she went on. "Melissa, the most important thing is punctuality. Do not be late. It will reflect negatively on your application."

"Karen—" I tried to continue, but she cut me off. Anything else I had to say was lost.

"Tomorrow, Miss Summers." And then the line went dead.