Page 3 of Keeping Denver

"I am currently not employed."

"Where did you last work? Do you have any experience being a personal assistant?" Frances asks.

My stomach drops. "No. I don't have any experience. My last job was as a waitress. But I can say in the five years of working at my last job, I never missed a day. I'm a hard worker, Frances, and will do whatever it takes."

Frances gives me a warm smile. "I have no doubt you will, sweetheart. I have a good feeling about you."

Her words instantly put me at ease, and I lose some of the tension in my shoulders. "Thank you. I promise to work hard."

As Frances goes about shuffling through more paperwork, my stomach rumbles with hunger, and my face flushes with embarrassment.

"Oh, my goodness. Will you look at the time? It seems we have both missed lunch. Would you like to continue this meeting in the deli downstairs?" Frances stands and looks at me. I have three dollars in loose change to my name. I have been saving that three dollars to use for washing my clothes at the laundromat.

"I'm not hungry, but I'd be happy to go down with you." My face heats. I can't help but notice the way Frances studies me. Something flashes in her eyes before she speaks.

"Don't be silly. Besides, lunch will be on the company's dime. It's the least we could do for making you wait so long."

Nodding, I grab my bag that was sitting at my feet and stand. As embarrassed as I am, I'd be a fool not to accept the meal. "Thank you, Frances. Lunch sounds nice." Once we make it downstairs, Frances leads me to the deli. "It must be nice to have such a place close by to grab something to eat. Especially with it being a cold and wet day like today."

"Despite his mood and reputation, Mr. Hawk is a good man. He had the deli put in a couple of years ago."

Frances steps to the counter and orders a chicken club sandwich, along with a salad. I order the same. After we are given our food, she leads us to a table in the back corner. That's when I ask, "Reputation?"

Frances cocks her head to the side. "Have you never heard of Callan Hawk?"

I shake my head. I'm not one to keep up with prominent people in business or the who's who of New York City. It's not like I have the resources anyway. My main focus in life is survival. And from the way the woman in front of me is looking at me, she seems shocked and pleased at the same time.

"The more I get to know you, Denver, the more I like you."

"Thanks…I think?"

Frances and I remain quiet for a few minutes as we eat our meals. I'm so hungry, I find it hard not to scarf down my food and make a pig of myself in front of her. Mindful of her observant eyes, I take small bites. Once I've eaten half of my sandwich, I wrap the remaining portion to save for later. Living on the streets and in the shelter, you learn to hoard what food you can because you never know where your next meal will come from. My thoughts quickly wander to the fact that I've been so hungry before that I've resorted to consuming food tossed into a trash bin on several occasions. Those points in my life have been some of my lowest moments. I sneak a glance toward Frances, who doesn't say a word when she sees me slip the wrapped food into my bag.

Needing a minute, I stand. "Will you excuse me while I use the restroom?"

"Of course, dear." Frances smiles, warmly.

I go to grab my bag when she stops me. "Why don't you leave your bag here. I'll watch it until you get back."

I don't usually let my backpack out of my sight since it holds everything I own. It's not much, but it's all I have. Living on the streets, you learn to guard what you have with your life. Studying her for a moment, I conclude I can trust Frances, and let loose of my bag. "Thanks. I'll be right back."

Finished with my business, I step out of the stall, then up to the sink and start washing my hands. I'm momentarily startled when I catch Kelly's ugly sneer in the mirror. "I don't know what you did to get the job, but I can tell you now, you won't make it a week."

I lift a brow and shrug. I'm not one to entertain cattiness.

"I mean, just look at you." Kelly cackles as she tosses her towel in the trash bin, then leans her hip against the counter, her eyes traveling the length of my body. "Where did you get that outfit anyway; the bargain bin at the thrift store?"

My stomach knots with humiliation.

"Mr. Hawk is a well-known member of the community. He needs someone with style and class representing him. He's going to take one look at you and see you are not the right person for the job. And when your ass gets canned, I'll be there to fill your position. Just as I should have in the first place." With those parting words, Kelly saunters out of the restroom with her five-inch red bottom heels clacking on the tiled floor. Everything Kelly says is true, but I'm not going to let it stop me from doing the best job I can, and pray that what she said about my new boss isn't true, hoping when he finally gets a look at me that he doesn't send me packing.

By the time I make it back to the table, Frances has finished eating and pulled out a tablet. "Now that we have eaten, how about we get back to business?"

"Sounds good to me," I smile while putting my run-in with Kelly aside. She's not worth my time or energy.

"Will you be okay with coming in an hour early in the morning? Say 7:00 am? That way, I can get you set up with Mr. Hawk's schedule and show you the computer system. I've been running things for Mr. Hawk since his last assistance quit. Be forewarned, Mr. Hawk can be demanding, and your workload will seem hectic at first, but I will start you out slow. Once you get the hang of how things work, I'll start giving you more responsibilities. How does that sound?"

"Sounds perfect."