Page 42 of Knot So Social

Job interviews are nobody’s favorite time of day, and I seem to have more than my fair share of the darn things. But somehow, this appointment doesn’t feel like all the others. The flutter of nerves in my stomach says quite a bit about how I want this meeting to go.

I pause in the carpark to adjust my button-up and straighten my belt. The aloe vera and witchcraft worked wonders on my skin overnight, the wounds nearly closing and leaving only red patches which look more like birthmarks than injuries. At least I can wear a shirt and light bandages without bleeding through.

Discretely I adjust my balls; Joel insisted I manscape before coming, just in case anyone does a physical. Or inspects the goods or whatever. I didn’t even know what he was talking about, but apparently that’s something his missus requires.

Shaved—or trimmed—ball fluff equals good, apparently.

“Well, wish me luck,” I mutter, sliding my hand across my new truck.

She’s not as beautiful as my old one, but I’m still in shock that Joel gave me a car. Convenient, yes, but the intention behind the gift is even more valuable. Tears mist my eyes, making the sunlight twinkle in my vision. My twin didn’t berate me for being a loser or failing at another job. Yesterday he was simply my brother again.

Having him around felt amazing. His presence filled a black hole that’s been sitting in my chest for months. Years even. I’m sorry he and his fiancé are having relationship problems, but I’m grateful he came to see me, despite the discord.

I swipe my collar up to dry my eyes before straightening the edge again. Look at me, tearing up as if I’d found a long-lost relative or some shit. Hope my eyes don’t look red-rimmed now.

Well, I can’t be late for this interview. Squaring my shoulders, I cross the parking lot in long strides, headed directly to the four-story glass and steel modern building that will determine my career fate.

The Heat Wave clinic sparkles, as nice inside as it is outside. All the glass lets plenty of natural light in to swathe over cream tones complimented with dusky rose and misty blues, with picture frames and accents in brass. A handful of potted plants softens the corporate lux edge.

In the ground floor lobby, a security station and front desk sit directly ahead. I grab some scent blocker by the door and rub the lotion into my hands and throat. I get it. Needy omegas must walk through this door every day, and they don’t need to breathe extra alpha scents.

And this place has thought of everything the omegas could need. A hydration bar on the other side of the waiting lounge emits the aroma of fresh orange and pineapple juice and boasts an ice machine plus a small fridge full of snack bars. Nearer to the entrance sits a kiosk with the label “Apothecary.” I step closer to look at the heat packs, calming creams, teas, and packets of brightly labelled supplements.

Mom would approve, no doubt.

“Are you Mr Williams?” the receptionist asks, coming over. Her lack of a strong scent proclaims her beta designation.

“Oh, yes. Hi.” I rub my head and then drop my hand, hoping I haven’t spoiled my hair do. Joel’s last instruction before leaving for work this morning was “no hats.” I clear my throat. “I’m here for my interview.”

“Of course. We’re ready for you now, if you’ll follow me?”

She leads me into a cozy conference room where two senior staff wait for me. They introduce themselves as Logan, the director of Human Resources, and Lafaye, the general manager.

I wave, the nerves bubbling like crazy behind my belt. You’d think with the number of interviews I’ve done, I’d be immune to the fear. Not quite.

“Tea, or coffee?” Debbie asks.

“Coffee, white and sugar, please,” I say.

Best to have something to occupy my hands with.

Once I have my steaming paper cup, Debbie heads out and shuts the door.

“Thank you for coming in for an interview,” Logan begins. “We’d like to ask you a few questions, and then outline the process involved in becoming a Heat Wave service officer.”

Well, that’s a fancy name for it.

“Sound okay?”

“Yes.” I nod. “That’s fine by me.”

Lafaye laces her hands together. “What brought you to Heat Wave, Jeremy?”

My mouth dries up in an instant, so I sip my coffee.

“Two days ago, I stopped on the side of the road to help a lady with a flat tire. After that, my boss fired me because I was late to work.” I hold the manager’s gaze. “I like helping people. I’m multi-skilled and to be honest I’ve had a lot of different jobs. But when all the other things boil down, I like helping people.”

I swallow hard and drop my gaze. “I think I’m built right for this job, and I used to drive past the building every day, so when I saw the ad, I wanted to apply.”