“Why don’t they just fire her? Office assistants are a dime a dozen. I heard her complaining to Dianne about sixty hours last week . . . please. That’s child’s play.” The conversation continued as they stepped off the elevator on the third floor.
The doors closed and I reminded myself, confidence. The life I want. I stood tall as I continued up to the fifth floor. I double checked my suit for stray pumpkin.
The doors opened as I was sniffing my sleeve. Perfect.
A woman in black high heels, a warm smile, and kind eyes met me. “Scott Elliot?” Hers was the first smile I had seen in the entire building. It was a source of calm and kindness that I needed.
I dropped my arm. “Guilty.”
“Perfect. Follow me. We better get moving because Mr. Johnson only has a few minutes to meet with you.”
I followed her through the office toward the conference room. There were floor-to-ceiling windows looking down on the city. The wall to the left was covered with head shots and plaques. Top lawyer of the year, and I visualized my picture among them.
She opened the door to the large conference room, oversized chairs, and more floor-to-ceiling windows. “Please have a seat. I will let Mr. Johnson know you are here.” She smiled at me.
“Thank you for your help and your kindness.” I held out my hand to shake hers. “I’m Scott, as you already know.”
Her head tipped back in surprise, and she put a hand to her heart. “You are so sweet. That just made my day.” She blushed, and I thought I saw tears forming in her eyes. “My name’s Becky. Ignore the waterworks. It’s been a rough morning . . . several, actually.”
She reached out her hand, and I shook it. Becky,the intern, the one they were complaining about on the elevator. This place would crush her. She turned and rushed away.
I looked at the large table with over twenty chairs. Which one was I supposed to sit in? If I picked the wrong one, could it give the wrong impression? I wiped my sweaty palms on my suit pants.
Don’t blow it. Don’t blow it.
Confidence.
Hearing the door behind me, I turned and saw Clyde Johnson. He was tall with gray hair and lines formed around his mouth in a permanent scowl. He exuded prestige and power in his stance. He completely dominated the room.
“I don’t have much time, but I’m glad you came on short notice.” He gestured to a chair on my left. “Sit.” He sat across from me. “I wondered if Ron would keep you on his leash forever.” Clyde frowned. “Wow, you look just like your dad used to.”
How did he know Dad? Maybe it was from my father's picture on the new website. I insisted he used his headshot from several years after college. The one where he looked professional versus the one Mom sent me, where he had a goofy grin and his typical Hawaiian shirt. People want to know they’re taken seriously.
“Alright, let’s get down to business.” Clyde slid a folded paper over to me on the wooden table. I opened it. I saw a number with more zeros than had ever been anywhere near my name. Clyde Johnson’s satisfied grin spread. “That includes your sign-on bonus, stock, and guaranteed three-year employment.” He smirked.
I tried to return my eyes to their normal size and nodded nonchalantly.
“Should be enough to cover whatever your dad has gotten himself into. We’re excited to have you here.” He nodded, gesturing around the office.
I cleared my throat. “That is a very generous offer.” I wasn’t sure how I felt about the way he was talking about my dad. Sure, I had similar thoughts, but it’s one thing for me to think it versussomeone else to say it. My dad was nothing like Clyde, but he was still my dad.
“An assistant is printing off papers now that I’ll need you to sign before you leave the office.” He gave a wolfish grin. “I would hate to think you can go behind my back and sell to someone directly to get more money. I’m afraid I'm quite lethal when crossed. Understood?”
I nodded. “Understood. This is a wonderful opportunity. I have no intention of doing anything other than joining you.”
“Perfect. Now, this is all contingent on you getting Mrs. Andrews to sign over the property by December tenth,” Clyde continued. “Which is less than two months. I’m in a tight spot. I need this property and fast, which is why I will pay accordingly.” Clyde nodded to the paper.
“I understand. I’ll do my best.” I straightened my shoulders.
“I will need better than your best. Do not disappoint me.” He nodded, stood, and left the room.
Clyde was a bit rough around the edges, sure. I'm sure you don’t get where he was in life without a no-nonsense attitude. I would need to do the same for the life I wanted.
I reopened the paper to make sure the number hadn’t changed. Not only was this a chance to get my dream job, I could set myself up for the future, pay down my debt, and help Dad get out of the Hillsdale situation. Becky came back, hustling in with a non-compete paper, which I signed. I walked back to my car in a trance, noticing the dent in the passenger-side door, a glaring imperfection against the other perfect cars. I needed to call and make an appointment to have it fixed. I had to make this work. After the six-hour drive to Haven Falls and all the emotions that came with it, plus a week of sleeping on a couch, I was exhausted. I would drive to Clifton in the morning. Tonight, I was getting a hotel room.
On Sunday morning, I drove to Clifton and pulled into my forgotten studio apartment. I missed it this week. Even though it was small and dark, everything had a place. I minimally furnished it with used furniture and clean lines. Except for the kitchen. It had bright yellow dishes, courtesy of Mom when she visited. She insisted sunshine was good for the soul, even just in color form. I had thought about changing the dishes, since they didn’t fit in with everything else, but every time I looked at them, I felt warmer. Maybe Mom was right? Plus, I didn’t have extra money.
I had a few hours before I needed to go to my parents house for Sunday dinner and I needed to decompress before Mom and my sister Jessica bombarded me with questions.
