When I open my eyes, I realize I’d drifted off to sleep. The sun has set on the horizon, and my skin prickles with the chilly, late evening air. I stand and make my way back inside switching on the lights.
Picking up my phone, I frown realizing I not only missed dinner but also a call from my brother. My stomach grumbles. I need food. I let out a yawn and decide to pay the fridge a visit. The cook always leaves me and my brother, Zev, some leftovers. Neither of us eats dinner with our parents unless we’re forced to. I walk down the corridor and pause when I hear voices in the library. My father must still be up. Ordinarily, I’d walk away unbothered, but the sound of a male voice groaning in pain has me stopping in my tracks. I step closer to the door which is ajar enough for me to peek through without my father noticing.
He has a man against the bookshelf, his hands wrapped around his neck. I gasp but place a hand in front of my mouth.
“I gave you instructions, Bobby, and I expected you to follow them.” He slams a fist into the man’s ribs.
“I know, I just need more time,” the man begs.
Before I can stop myself, I’m knocking at the door, walking inside uninvited. My father turns, and his grip on the man’s throat loosens as he steps away from him. My heart pounds in my chest. We all know the rules, have since I was a kid. Nobody disturbs my father when he’s busy. I can count the number of times I’ve been in this room on my one hand.
“Ah, Eliana, we missed you at dinner,” he says as he walks to his desk in the corner of the dimly lit room. A fire burns in the fireplace, giving this unorthodox scene a comforting feel. It’s as if whatever I walked in on never occurred. Yet it did.
Bobby looks from my father to me. “Miss,” he says, using his hand to wipe a bit of blood off his mouth. Bobby looks like a boxer, muscles to match, yet it’s obvious he cowers in front of my father. Bobby brushes his greasy black hair back.
“I will be in touch, Mr. Hernandez,” he says. My father doesn’t pay him any attention, and Bobby leaves the room casting me one final glance.
“What was that about?” I know it’s stupid to ask, still I do.
“Nothing important.” My father waves me off. “Some business I had to deal with.”
“Sure, Dad.” I reply, unconvinced.
“How have you been? We barely speak these days. Soon enough we’ll be partners,” he says too cheerfully. There is one thing Diego Hernandez isn’t and that is cheerful. I know he’s trying to distract me.
I smile. “Yeah.” For a moment I wonder if I should tell him about the interview and my plans for the future. But the realist in me knows that he’ll do whatever it takes to stop me from succeeding. “I was on my way downstairs. I should leave you to your business.”
“Good night, Eliana,” he says, looking up from his paperwork.
I make my way downstairs and indulge in some delicious lasagna Maria made. She’s cooked for us for years, and she never disappoints. When I’ve had more than my fill, I head back to my bedroom.
As I lie in bed looking at the ceiling, I can’t stop thinking about the look in Bobby’s eyes, and I wonder what they were talking about. I drift off, wondering if it had anything to do with me. But then again, why would it?
* * *
I’m a ball of nerves after the two-hour drive to LA. I turn the air conditioner on all the way and crank Blink 182 to full blast, my nerves increasing the closer I get to my destination. A valet meets me at the hotel entrance, and once I’m in the room I’ve booked for the night, I lie on the comfortable bed, closing my eyes and sinking into the cool, white sheets.
As far as my parents know, I’m with my best friend, Casey, tonight. I cannot even begin to explain how it pisses me off that at twenty-one I still have to make excuses for my whereabouts. My phone rings just then; I look at the display and smile. “Hey, Case.”
“Hey, back at ya. You were supposed to call me the second you arrived.”
“I’m sorry, babe, got lost in my head again,” I sigh.
“Then get out of it, Ella, you’ve got this.” She sounds like she’s chewing.
“I hate chew-versations,” I laugh.
“But, you adore me.” I smile. I do.
“Good point.”
“Good luck, Ella, I’ll call you later. Go shower, clear your head, and try to relax. I love you.”
“Love you too, Case.”
After we end our call, I do as she says and take a long shower. Instead of relaxing after, I go over my presentation to the COO, Catherine Cole. She is one of the most sought-after PR professionals and has been interviewed by several high-profile business magazines. The fact that she even wants to interview me herself is an honor. I cannot get this wrong. My chest tightens at the thought of sitting in a room with a panel of professionals with all that experience. I hate that I don’t have any experience. This is my first interview, ever. But I am preparing and intend to do my very best.
I opt for room service instead of dining at the restaurant downstairs. Spreading my documents all over the bed, I go through the CJJ Company profile over a chicken salad. The resume of every Publicist hired by the company is on their site, and I’m impressed by the fact that the executive leadership team is mostly women. The LA branch’s focus is representing prominent companies, celebrities, and several high-profile businesses. I’ve pretty much been surrounded by people like that my entire life. The position I’m applying for is assistant to one of the senior publicists for a pretty famous client. I’ve been preparing for this for months, but I will not leave anything to chance.
