Chapter Seven
JenCar’s plant sat on the north edge of Madison, away from the hipster shopping district, away from Westland, and on the opposite side of town as the hospital. Most of the manufacturing done at the local plant was small parts for single-engine aircraft. JenCar’s main plant in San Diego was where the magic happened. That’s where the planes were built. I knew everything there was to know about the company. Even down to the number of employees in each plant.
I hoped that knowledge would help me get this internship. If they didn’t have a candidate they felt embodied the JenCar way, then they wouldn’t hire anyone. It had been a year since they had an intern. I was determined to change that. Competition was so tight that it had been six years since they hired more than one intern a semester. It didn’t help knowing Devon was interviewing. His GPA was near identical to mine, plus his father worked there. I’d need to stand out more.
My nerves shook as I downshifted my ancient Chevy S-10 and parked in one of the visitor spots. Even the parking lot was pristine. Three flag poles circled around a dry fountain in front of the main building. The manufacturing plant took up four football fields behind the offices, not that I could see them from the front. I had studied this company since I moved to Madison. JenCar was one of the reasons I wanted to go to Westland. They hired locally. Even if they didn’t bring on a student as an intern, that didn’t mean they wouldn’t hire them after graduation. The majority of JenCar’s engineering department came from Westland. And several had moved on to other locations around the world.
The lobby looked more like a fancy hotel than a major company. Four white leather couches circled around a cherry coffee table, issues of Popular Mechanics fanned out across the top. A man in a suit sat on one of the couches and two in the others, but I didn’t take the time to really look at any of them.
“Can I help you?” a perky brunette with too-dark lipstick asked. She sat behind a large desk that doubled as a counter. It filled the back center of the lobby.
I smiled politely as I glanced at the space she occupied. Three office chairs, two of which were empty, rolled on each side of her. There were two computers but one had three monitors. “I’m Olivia Dawson. I have a ten o’clock.”
She glanced at the screen in front of her. “Oh yes. With Mr. Anderson.” She stood, barely getting any taller, and pointed at the clipboard on the counter. “Please sign in here.” Her hand slid a plastic name badge that read “Visitor.” “Please attach this to your shirt. Mr. Anderson will be with you shortly.”
I signed my name as neatly as possible without making it look like an autograph, unlike the name above mine. Two other names stood out: John Harding and Tim Moore. They were seniors who I’d had a few classes with but didn’t really know. I clipped the visitor badge onto the lapel of my only suit jacket.
Before I left for winter break, Paige and I went shopping for this day. She wanted me to buy an olive suit jacket with a matching skirt. It was great, but out of my price range. Instead I bought a powersuit: black suit jacket with thin gray pinstripes tailored to my curvy frame, simple black dress pants hemmed for my short height, and a light-gray satin button-down shirt. Adding to the ensemble was a black-and-silver flower pin. I finished the look with black pumps, not too high but not too low, either. The final product was fashionable without fashion and no nonsense. It was definitely what I hoped JenCar looked for in an intern. Being a woman in a male-dominated field was hard enough. One misstep either way, and I’d fail. That wasn’t an option.
I’d pulled my long brown hair into a bun and opted to forgo contacts for my smart black frames. My vision wasn’t as bad as my older brother’s at least. Adam couldn’t even wear contacts.
The only thing I could do was wait and project the confidence I didn’t feel. My nerves rattled every inch of my skin. I’d left my phone in my truck. My father always complained about people being on their phones when he tried to talk to them about their cars. He liked to personally connect with the clients whenever he could. More than half of my time with him over break was listening to him complain about how people cared more about their cell phones than about one another. It started when I answered a text at dinner. Apparently he’d implemented a rule I wasn’t aware of. We had to put our phones in the center of the table. The first person to check it had to do the dishes.
I turned around and faced the couches. John and Tim sat together on one side, quietly talking. Devon Miller sat opposite of them and had his head down, focused on his phone. He’d been on my mind too much lately. I was still reeling a little from the way he asked me out. Then he dropped the interview bomb on me.
His head shot up as if he knew I was watching him. Devon’s hazel eyes met mine. His gaze turned into a panty-dropping smolder and suddenly I felt naked and exposed in the lobby of my dream job. This was not good. Devon could’ve screwed any girl he wanted that night. Not that he slept with every girl who came his way. His reputation wasn’t to be a ladies’ man. He wanted people to respect him, look up to him, admire him. Both on the baseball field and in the classroom. That we had in common.
“Olivia, how nice to see you,” he said, slipping his phone into the inner pocket of his jacket. His voice had a distinct chill. It was the sound of a politician, not an engineer. He was in his element here, and I wasn’t just any woman. “I didn’t realize the competition would be so…easy.”
I sat on a different couch where I could see the door behind the receptionist. “To lose to? Yes, you should learn to lose gracefully.” I smiled as I faced him. “Or you could just concede.”
Devon snorted. I smiled wider. Snorting was undignified, especially for Devon. He narrowed his eyes. “Play ball? With you? I’m out of your league.”
“What’re you getting at? Subtlety has never been your strong suit.” I checked my cuticles, pretending to be bored with the entire conversation. Devon was trying to rile me up before the interview. I couldn’t let him. I needed this.
“You know it, or you wouldn’t have run from my room,” he said, sitting back against the couch.
“Yet I turned down your lunch offer.” I grinned. He took his dickery to a new level. This interview meant more to me than to him. Knocking me off my game plan wouldn’t score any points. This had to be a direct result of my rejection. “Seems like I’m out of your league.”
The door opened and Rex Anderson stepped through, bringing both of us to our feet. John and Tim joined us. My legs shook. Not just from the interview but from Devon’s complete one-eighty. Despite my outward confidence, I wanted to bolt from the room, from the possibility of getting what I wanted. Everything I worked for was within my reach. If I landed this internship, the chances of getting hired after graduation skyrocketed.
Devon Miller was the only thing that stood in my way. But why he waited until now to go for an internship was a mystery. His father could’ve gotten him in anytime. Why wait? Maybe that’s why he came to me the night of the party. To get inside my head so he would get hired. Distract me from my goals, my mission to work at JenCar. This entire time he was working toward screwing me over. That was the only explanation.
“Mr. Miller, Ms. Dawson, Mr. Harding, Mr. Moore.” Rex Anderson nodded as he walked toward us. He was just over six feet tall with more salt than pepper in his thinning hair. It was the Armani suit and the confidence in his walk that showed he was a man of power and not some lackey. Of course, we knew who he was the minute he strolled into the lobby.
“Welcome to JenCar.” He shook our hands. I made sure mine was as strong as a man’s without feeling like I was trying too hard. My older brother Nick taught me how to execute a proper handshake, show strength and confidence in just one grip to make a great first impression. Mr. Anderson didn’t smile as he assessed us with a single glance. “Please follow me. We’ll tour the plant as we talk about the duties of an intern at JenCar and what may be expected of you.”
Mr. Anderson turned on his heel and disappeared behind the same door he’d come out of. I started to follow him until Devon snuck in front of me.
Over his shoulder, he grinned and waggled his eyebrows. “I found some white panties under my bed. Are you missing a pair?”
I froze. My feet didn’t want to move. My brain didn’t want to fire. My mouth was the only thing that wanted to function, but shouting “what is your problem” toward Devon’s back wasn’t the best idea.
He glanced over his shoulder as he got closer to the door Mr. Anderson had long disappeared behind. “Coming, slugger?”
That rat bastard. Whatever had happened between us was just another play in his game. He’d used me. He’d had this planned out for weeks. I was willing to bet he knew I was going to get an interview and he wanted to make sure I failed just so he could win.
I was going to kill him.
I hurried to catch up to them, holding my head high despite wanting to hide it in the dirt. I needed to forget about the party. I needed to bury my anger. I needed to put my best foot forward—not in my mouth. If only I succeeded at any of those.
“Ms. Dawson, tell me what you know about JenCar,” Mr. Anderson said as he strolled through a well-lit hallway with his hands behind his back. He didn’t even look at any of us.
“JenCar is the forerunner in modern aerodynamics,” I said automatically. It was such a standard answer and it sounded robotic coming out of my mouth. I started to add something clever, but Devon jumped in.
“I read, sir, that JenCar had recently perfected a new compressor that works with better efficiency.” Devon raised his eyebrow, knowing damned good and well that I had read that article, too.
“True, Mr. Miller. In fact”—Mr. Anderson turned slightly to face Devon—“that work began in this plant. JenCar’s pushing new heights, if you will, with jet propulsion systems. We’re also working on making aircraft more fuel efficient.” He faced forward again and began to detail the history of the company. All of which I knew by heart. “Our engineers work hard to push the boundaries of aviation technology. As candidates for the internship, we’d expect you to learn every aspect of being an engineer at JenCar.”
I must have grinned like a schoolgirl, because Mr. Anderson cocked his head to the left and studied me for a moment. Forcing the smile from my face was much harder than I anticipated.
“Ms. Dawson, what would you hope to accomplish at JenCar?”
“Um…” My mind had never been so empty in my life.
“Swing for the fences,” Devon muttered under his breath, loud enough for me but not for Mr. Anderson to hear.
Heat filled my cheeks. “I…uh…I’ve been an admirer of the company for years,” I finally stuttered out. Admirer? As in secret? If I could’ve facepalmed, I would have. “I mean,” I tried again, “JenCar has always been breaking ground in aviation and thermodynamics. I’d love to learn more by application rather than learning in the classroom.”
Thermodynamics hit a high level beneath my skin, working hard to turn my normal olive complexion into lava red.
Mr. Anderson twisted toward Devon, clearly seeking his answer.
Devon smiled as if they were old friends. “Well, Mr. Anderson, like Ms. Dawson, I’d like to put my knowledge to use by applying the modern techniques in the fast-changing field. I’d also like to learn from the best engineers in the world that work in this facility. I believe they can help me focus my future by sharing their experiences so I can better help companies like JenCar in the future.”
Mr. Anderson nodded once, no indication whether Devon’s answer impressed him. Personally I wanted to kick him. That was what I should’ve said. His father probably coached him. Mr. Anderson moved on to John then Tim who both echoed my sentiments and added their own insights, which were so much better prepared than mine.
And it went downhill from there. Mr. Anderson asked a question, I’d stumble over it, and Devon would shine like polished coal. John and Tim appeared knowledgeable and highly intelligent to my bumbling idiot. I hated Devon more by the minute, but I hated myself worse. I knew what to say, but I couldn’t bring myself to say it. Nothing sounded even slightly normal. In fact, I sounded more like a JenCar groupie than an actual intern candidate.
By the time Mr. Anderson led us back to the lobby an hour later, I’d all but given up on trying to sound intelligent. Coherent was going to have to do.
“Mr. Miller, Ms. Dawson, Mr. Harding, Mr. Moore,” Mr. Anderson said as he again shook our hands. This time mine felt limp in his strong grip. “It was a pleasure to meet you all. We’ll be in touch.”
“It was nice to meet you, too,” Devon said, smiling broadly. He’d nailed it. And he knew it.
John and Tim grinned and repeated Devon word for word. I smiled and bent my head in polite defeat. There wasn’t any reason to repeat what Devon had already said, even if it would’ve been appropriate.
Mr. Anderson tilted his head again as he stared at me, then he turned on his heel and marched toward the door.
“Thanks, Olivia. You made me look like an all-star. No doubt Anderson will head toward my father and assure him that I’m JenCar material. Exactly as he wanted,” Devon said. He shoved his hands in his pockets and rocked on his heels. A sheepish grin took over his face. “Look, I know that didn’t go as you planned, and I’m sorry. So lunch?”
If I hadn’t already felt completely humiliated and defeated, his words would’ve pissed me off. How could he think I’d go out with him after that? There was no way JenCar would hire me after that pitiful performance. And there was no way in hell I’d spend another minute around him.
He got his answer as he watched me walk out the door.