Chapter 11

ELEVEN

My pants are too tight and bunch up between my legs, making sitting very uncomfortable.

Ava insisted I wear pants over a skirt to impress. If I want to be taken seriously, showing my legs is not the way. Also, something about pantsuits is so in right now. Regardless, I send her a quick text to vent my frustrations.

Me:Your pants are giving me camel toe. This is worse than showing a leg.

The bubble appears at record speed, much like her response.

Ava:I’m with Eric. He says to be careful. There’s good camel toe, and there’s bad camel toe.

I abandon the conversation because, in my opinion, there’s no such thing as good camel toe. Besides, I need to focus on this interview and forget about these stupid pants.

As much as it pained me to do so, I took April up on her offer to accept an interview for a job at her stepfather’s company. It would have been nice to have at least met him, given I’m staying at his place, but he hasn’t come home since. Apparently, he travels a lot which is why April said the house is always empty.

I met April’s mother, Kathy, who is nice enough if you ignore the whole being hung up on money thing. She spent most of her time shopping or vacationing with her new circle of rich friends. According to April, she was never like that, and for the most part, had a decent childhood raised by Kathy despite them scrapping for money.

Money changes everyone.

The once-doting mother no longer cares what her daughter does. I know April is hurt by the change but refuses to dwell on it. She’s a glass-half-full kinda girl and is always trying to focus on the positives.

Yeah, the universe and all that bullshit.

Inside the very modern lobby, I glance around and notice I’m not the only girl sitting there. There are five of us, and all of the others appear to be the same age as me. Of course, they’re all wearing short dresses. Here I am, dressed like some mom with pants riding so far up my vagina.

The pantsuit is navy and simple in its cut. Ava suggested a classic white blouse beneath and even allowed me to borrow her tan Louboutins. Thank God we’re the same size in everything because it pays off at times like this, except for the whole camel toe part. Maybe Ava’s vagina is smaller than mine.

My hair is pinned back into a tight bun which keeps it out of my face and professional. As I try not to focus on my nerves, an older woman comes out of the elevator and calls for an Ella. The blonde girl sitting across from me stands up, almost tripping on her heels, then follows the lady.

This happens again with Selina, Harriet, and Emily, all their names I’d learned while I waited for one hour until it was my turn.

“Alexandra,” the older lady finally calls my name.

With a smile, I stand up and follow her into the elevator. I’m unsure what to say or if the protocol is to keep quiet. As a kid, my dad often reminded me of the importance of introducing myself so that everyone knows my name. Some things stick, I guess.

Quickly, I extend my hand. “I’m Alexandra Edwards. It’s nice to meet you.”

The lady looks confused, then nods. “Meredith Hancock. I’m Mr. Cash’s Executive Assistant.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Hancock.”

“Meredith, please. Leave the formalities to Mr. Cash.”

“Of course,” I say with a smile.

April gave me no information or inkling as to what today entailed. I knew there was no way they would just hire me despite her saying she got me the job. All of a sudden, the nerves come back, but this time, even more so than before. I find myself fidgeting, though I quickly force myself to stop.

The elevator door opens to level four. As Meredith exits, I follow her to a small room where there is a computer. There is nothing in the room but three walls and a window that looks toward another building.

“Take a seat,” Meredith instructs, gesturing to the chair. “You’ll have thirty minutes to complete an online exam which will test your ability to perform in certain situations. It’s followed by a typing test. You will be tested for speed and accuracy.”

Typing test? My heart races. I’m no professional typist unless responding to a text from Ava because she’s about to order a hideous outfit, which you’ll know she’ll regret later, then blame it on me for not talking her out of it.

Meredith leaves the room with minimal instructions. She only added was to press any key, and the exam will begin. Although she didn’t call it an exam, it feels exactly like I’m back in high school, making this extremely unsettling.

Taking a deep breath, I sit down on the office chair. I press the letter K on the keyboard for the screen to illuminate. The questionnaire appears and given I only have thirty minutes to complete all of this, I straighten my shoulders while giving myself a pep talk. Then, I dive straight into the questions.

There are only ten questions and scenarios of what I would do in particular situations. I do my best to answer them, trying to think of what I should do versus what I would want to do. I mean, let’s be honest, the question about your boss running late and not being able to pick up his dry cleaning has me rolling my eyes. I’m praying this role doesn’t involve any errands like this, but then again, it’s not like I have a choice right now.

Money is money. I need it or apologize to my father and ask him to take me back.

My stupid thoughts keep distracting me before I glance at the time on the corner of the screen. I only have ten minutes left. Shit.

Panicking, I move on to the next question, but instead, it’s the section testing my typing speed and accuracy. There’s a paragraph on the screen which I’m supposed to copy as quickly as possible. The timer begins, and I type as fast as I can, trying not to make any errors. Before I know it, my time is up, and the door opens with Meredith standing behind me.

“Thank you, Miss Edwards, for your time today,” Meredith announces in a formal tone.

“Is that it?” I blurt out, then quickly try to redeem myself. “I apologize. I meant to say, is there any formal interview or perhaps meeting Mr. Cash?”

Meredith is writing in her notebook, eyes down, barely acknowledging me. If I have to say her age, she’d be much older than Mom, maybe pushing mid-sixties. Not that it matters, but it’s clear she has no time for young women like me.

“The role primarily reports to me,” she states firmly. “All I’m interested in is how quick, efficient, and responsive you are in certain situations.”

Judging by her tone, it’s obvious I didn’t make an impression. There’s no opportunity to

even talk, given no interview or time to show what I can do.

My chest tightens as my stomach turns queasy. It’s safe to say I

didn’t get the role, and I need to start focusing on Plan B. Not that there is a Plan B because April made it seem like her plan would solve all my problems. She’s not to blame. If this is anyone’s fault, it’s clearly mine since I’m not good enough for anyone to hire.

I force a smile, deflated, but try to keep my shoulders poised as I walk out of the office and toward the elevator. There was no time to cry, given people occupied the elevator, and it would make me look like an emotional trainwreck.

I’m standing next to a pregnant woman who is breathing heavily. Oh God, what if we get stuck, and she gives birth in this elevator? My mind is a mess, so I focus on anything else which doesn’t send my anxiety into a spiral of no return.

In the back corner, there is a man on his phone. He appears well-presented in a gray suit with a vest beneath the jacket. My eyes slowly trace down his waist until I reach his shoes. Huh, large. Eric’s voice replays in my head, “You can judge a man purely on his shoe size.”

I beg to differ. It must be some myth, not that I have much to compare to.

Slowly, my eyes drift past his crotch, which, okay—there is a trace of something. Shaking my head, I move up toward his face until I see him looking directly at me. Oh, shit! He doesn’t look phased or bothered, keeping a straight expression but refusing to break eye contact.

I divert my eyes straight ahead, trying to remember what he looked like seconds ago. He has a strong jawline with a freshly shaven face. I didn’t quite catch the eye color, but they are dark, maybe brown.

My heart is beating faster than usual, but by the time I begin to panic again, the door opens, and everyone moves at a fast pace. I don’t stop to think anymore, rushing outside and away from this hell of a place.

Out on the street, the usual Californian sun is trying its best to break through the heavy smog. Without a car, I’m again trying to figure out how to get around. April dropped me off, but she was meeting her aunt for lunch at some restaurant, so I need to find my way home.

Standing at the bus stop, I wait with an older woman and what appears to be her grandchild. It dawns on me that aside from field trips, I’ve never taken a bus in LA.

It takes fifteen minutes for the bus to arrive and open its doors. I follow the lady and what she does, paying for a ticket and taking a seat. There’s an empty row toward the back of the bus, which I gladly take.

The drive is bumpy and long, giving me a lot of time to just stare out the window. I grow bored easily, then quickly check my phone. There’s no text or new emails. I follow with hopping onto my Insta and see a DM in the corner. Quickly tapping on the icon, most of it is stuff my sisters sent me, but then I see a message from an unknown username. It takes me a few minutes to figure out it must be Beau given the handle is Bromano. If I’m not mistaken, it’s supposed to be like Bromance since the profile pic is some guy, maybe his bestie, posing with him.

Bromano:My new professor’s name is Alex Edwards. Thought you’d like to know how awkward Economics is for me now. At least she’s fun to look at.

I shake my head with a grin, but just as I’m about to respond, things start to look familiar. We’re on the same street as my high school. The nostalgia is overwhelming. So many times, I’d driven down this street with Cole’s hand resting on my knee as we talked about all the things we were going to do once we graduated.

Now, I’m here without a job or even a permanent place to stay while he’s playing happy families.

The reality is brutal with its force, but I refuse to break down on a bus in front of a bunch of strangers. Just like inside the elevator, I try to think of anything else to distract me.

This is too hard. Maybe I should just go back.

My phone vibrates in my hand, interrupting my depressive thoughts. I quickly hit answer, not recognizing the number but pick it up in case it’s a job I’ve applied for.

“Hello?”

“Am I speaking with Alexandra Edwards?”

“Yes.” I clear my throat and sit up to pay attention. “I’m Alexandra.”

“It’s Meredith Hancock. Have I caught you at an inconvenient time?”

“Not at all,” I lie.

“Good. I’d like to offer you the role of junior assistant.”

My eyes widen as my breath catches in my throat. I open my mouth to talk, but words don’t come out. With a quick swallow, I try again, careful not to stammer.

“You’d like to offer me the role?”

“Yes,” Meredith confirms. “I can email across all the details and employment forms if you’d like to accept.”

“Of course, I accept,” I answer in disbelief, with a smile breaking loose. “I mean to say, thank you. This means so much to me.”

“Good,” she responds, then continues. “Congratulations, Alexandra. I’ll be in touch once you respond to the email.”