“U gh, where are my black pumps!” I threw another pair of sneakers to the side as I rifled through the bottom of my closet. I was already running late. Where the hell did I put those damn shoes?
“They’re in here, honey,” my mom poked her head through the doorway. “You left them by the door again.” She dangled the black pumps from her fingers. Her eyes judged me silently as only a mother could.
“Thanks,” I tipped my head and gave her a curtsey.
“You look nice. I see you chose to wear the black dress again. Are you sure that’s such a good idea? You can see the tattoo on your thigh. Don’t you think the plum would go with your green eyes? It would hide the tattoo so well. You want to make a good impression, don’t you?” She waved her hand at the ink showing beneath the black dress.
“Mom, it’s fine, no one bats an eye at tattoos anymore. Plus, it’s the most professional-looking thing I own. The plum dress is a little too low cut for a job interview.” I ran my hand down the front of the dress smoothing it out. There wasn’t much I could do about it now. I still had to drive to St. Paul. I was going to have to speed the whole way as it was.
“You changed so much in New York." She sighs, shaking her head. "Maybe we’ll need to go shopping before you have any more interviews.” Her shoulders slumped in disappointment like she was carrying the weight of my life decisions as she left the room.
Ignoring her comment about New York, I glanced down at the lines of my tattoo showing beneath the hem of my dress. Honestly, I didn’t care about showing off my tattoo. If they had a problem with that, they would definitely have a problem with the green streaks in my jet-black hair. I pinned it up so the green was swirled into a stylish roll. I was going for stylish yet professional. Besides, they should be looking at my credentials, not my colored hair or tattoos.
Who was I kidding?
This was my seventh interview, it probably wouldn’t hurt to cover up my tattoo at least.
I sighed.
Maybe this time the interviewer would look beyond my outward appearance. Even though, I wasn’t sure that was the reason I wasn’t getting a job. The publishing industry was dying. It was becoming harder and harder to find a position among the diminishing publishing houses. Yet, here I was, on my way to yet another interview. Hoping, this was the one who would give me the chance I needed. The chance to live out my dream.
I ran down the stairs. My dad stopped me at the door, hand outstretched. “Hey, kiddo, take this.” A pop-tart was wrapped in it’s foil wrapper. “You need to eat something.”
“Thanks, Dad, is it strawberry?” I asked, taking the warm bundle from his hands.
“Come now, would I give you anything else?” he quirked a smile. I wrapped an arm around him and kissed his cheek, before rushing out the door. My red Kia Soul waited for me at the end of the driveway. The drive to St. Paul felt excruciatingly long. It always did when I was running late.
I pulled into the parking lot taking in my surroundings.
Is this it? It looks more like an industrial building than a publishing house?
I matched the numbers of the address to the door.
Yeah, this was the place.
I took a deep breath. Grabbing the folder with my letters of recommendation, I hurried up to the door. The plaque to the side of the door was the only thing indicating I was in the right place. You’d never know it by the stucco industrial-style building. Maybe this was a new age publishing house like the new breweries popping up in industrial parks.
I thought I read they’d been around since the nineties, maybe they've changed since then.
Opening the door, I strode into the office. A petite girl with a brown pixie cut sat behind the glass and metal desk. Even the decor fits the industrial style of the building. Her head cocked to the side as she watched me approach her desk. I could almost feel her appraise my rushed steps as I made my way to her. She paused on the tattoo just below the hem of my dress and the corner of her mouth quirked up just a little before her eyes rose to meet mine.
“Hello,” her smile widened.
“Hi, I’m here for an interview with Mr. Morrison,” I tried to give her a polite smile. The feeling of nervous butterflies swarmed in my stomach. I haven’t been all that great at interviews, despite my research. I always seem to freeze when I have to answer. I could feel my palms sweating, and I clasped them together in front of me.
Damn, I hated interviews.
“Okay, if you’ll have a seat I’ll let him know you’re here.” She nodded toward the four grey padded chairs against the wall in what must be their waiting area.
“Great, thanks,” I gave her a small smile. There was a large copper-metal tiger sculpture hanging from the wall. It looked like it was welded out of scrap metal. With its random wheels that looked like pieces of a clock, it reminded me of the steampunk stuff I’d seen. I crossed my ankles and grasped my folder, crossing my arms over my lap. I hoped I wouldn’t have to sit here too long. I couldn’t help but swing my joined feet as I waited.
I wanted to work in publishing so bad. I knew there weren’t a lot of options when I came back to Minnesota, but I didn’t have much choice. When I couldn’t afford rent and was out of food, I had to make a choice. I should have stayed there, gotten some thankless job until I could find something. The opportunities to work in publishing were everywhere in New York. My internship was supposed to open doors for me. That’s what my school had promised. Too bad it hadn’t worked out that way. Fucking asshole, ruined everything. I shook my head trying to clear away my negative thoughts. I needed to think positively before I walked into the interview. So much of my life was riding on this going well.
A tall, dark-haired man stood in the doorway. His maroon tie was hanging slightly to the side of center. He smoothed it down absently as he looked at me. “Mrs. Hoffman,” his face held a peculiar look. I stood immediately, trying to discreetly wipe my hand down my skirt before holding it out to shake the man’s hand.
“Hello, Mr. Morrison, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” I gave him a firm shake before dropping my hand back to smooth down my skirt. I was hoping he hadn’t noticed the tattoo. I wasn’t sure it would make a difference, but based on his black pinstripe suit, I didn’t want to chance it.
“Please, call me Dan.” He turned and began walking down the hall. Stopping at the door to the office, he held his arm out for me to enter. I walked through and took a seat in the chair across from the desk. I heard the click of the door as he closed it. My heart rate ratcheted up a notch. I wasn’t sure what it was about him, but he made me even more nervous. The hairs on my arms stood on end as he passed by me to take a seat at the desk. He unbuttoned his jacket, brushing it open with the sweep of his hand. His sea-green eyes met mine, and he smiled.
“So, Ms. Hoffman, why don’t you tell me a little bit about yourself.” He clasped his hands together on the desk in front of him, and I could feel him scrutinizing me.
I took a deep breath, trying to calm my wild heartbeat. “Well, I recently finished my degree at NYU majoring in journalism and communications. I believe the education I received there would make me an asset to Paragon house. I learned so much about the publishing industry. I completed my internship with Kensington Publishing in New York. As an intern, I learned valuable skills. While there, I proofread manuscripts, planned launches, and learned the marketing side of publishing. I believe I would be a good fit for Paragon.” I stopped, realizing I might be rambling. I never really knew when to stop talking during an interview. I clasped my hands together and pulled at the cuticle on my thumb.
“I’m sure you would be a good fit. Can you tell me more about what roles you held at Kensington?” He leaned forward, as his eyes focused on mine.
“Well, as I said, I worked often in proofreading manuscripts along with beta-reading. I read over manuscripts and gave a synopsis to my boss. I was expected to give a summary of how this would fit with the current market trends.” As I spoke, he was intently focused on me. It was a little unnerving the way he watched me. He stood and walked around the desk. Leaning back against the wooden top, he clasped his hands in front of him, his eyes never leaving me.
“Why don’t you tell me about your life in New York,” his voice held a bit of an edge.
“What?” I asked surprised.
“Well, aren’t you from here? What made you decide to move to New York to go to school?” His eyes were still focused on me. A shiver ran down my back. Maybe this was a new kind of interview, getting personal or asking about major life decisions. It felt strange, but I figured I could answer truthfully without giving too much detail.
“Um, I wanted to go to school where I would have a good shot at working in the publishing industry. I’ve always been fascinated by the whole process. I’ve been an avid reader my whole life. When I was in high school, I always had a book in front of me. Often to the annoyance of my teachers.” I blushed looking down at my hands. “I always wanted to be a part of the process of making someone’s dream a reality. The Authors put so much of themselves into their work. I wanted to be someone who cared for their book as much as they did. New York seemed the most logical place to be able to do that at the time. It just didn’t work out that way in the end.” I couldn’t believe I had just said all of that. It wasn’t like it was personal, but I still didn’t mean to be so honest. It was like I wasn’t completely in control of what I was saying. Another shiver ran down my spine.
“So,” he sat back in his chair, “What brought you back to Minnesota?” his voice dropped.
“Ah, I had trouble finding a job there and couldn’t afford to stay any longer. I didn’t have much of a choice. I had to come back.” I shook my head. My heart raced, I struggled to catch my breath. What was happening to me? It was like I wasn’t in control of what I was saying. My hands clenched, and I looked back to Dan. The side of his mouth quirked up.
“I have been waiting to meet you for a very long time, Ivey. Pardon if my questions seem too personal. I just really want to get to the root of who you are. I believe we are going to do great things together. I can’t help but be interested in you, all of you.” His eyes bore into mine, and I felt like I couldn’t move. He took a step toward me and brushed his hand down my bare arm. Goosebumps broke out in his wake.
My eyes stared at his hand that was still resting on my bare arm. Not again, I thought .
“What are you talking about? You’ve been waiting a long time to meet me? I just applied for this job a few weeks ago.” I shook my head. Something was wrong. I didn’t know what, but something was seriously off about this guy. I felt a rush of energy go through my body. The metallic taste of adrenaline filled my mouth. My fight or flight response must be kicking in.
“Yes, Ivey, I know who you really are, about your history, your birth mother, all of it.” His face softened as he walked back around the desk. He lowered himself back down in his chair, scratching his chin. He looked as though he was trying to figure out some puzzle in his head before turning his attention back to me.
“What? Birth mother? How could you know about that? Are you some kind of stalker?” I flew up from the seat and back toward the door. I couldn’t stay in this office anymore. Something was very wrong with this guy.
“Calm down, Ivey, I would love to explain everything to you. Please, sit back down.” He stood his hands held out, palms down in front of him. He took a step toward me, and I panicked. I threw my hands out in front of me, and I felt the energy that surged through me earlier leave my body. My eyes widened as I watched the desk turn to white stone. My jaw dropped. Dan stumbled back a step before righting himself. My eyes darted from him to the desk and back again. Panic took over, I couldn’t stay in this room.
Turning, I sprinted out of the office and down the hall. I stumbled on the carpet near the waiting room in my heels as I rushed to get out of there. I righted myself using one of the gray chairs and continued. I didn’t stop until I was in the safety of my car. Breathing hard, my keys fumbled in my hands as my whole body shook. After what felt like forever, the key finally made it into the ignition. Starting the car, I flew into reverse and drove away as fast as I could without drawing the attention of everyone around me.
After a few minutes on the road, I knew I needed to stop driving and pull myself together. I drove into the Holiday gas station and parked along the side of the building. My hands were shaking and I felt like I couldn’t get enough air into my lungs. I didn’t want to pass out while driving. I needed to calm down. To do that I needed to figure out what the hell just happened? How did the wood desk suddenly turn into stone? Why wasn’t Mr. Morrison shocked? He seemed to calm instantly after the desk turned like he wasn’t surprised it happened. Why wouldn’t he be surprised?
I closed my eyes and took several deep breaths. I needed to get home. I still had to work at the coffee shop today. Since I just blew that interview, it looked like I was going to be working there for a while. Staring down at my hands on the wheel, I marveled at what just happened. Power radiated through my body a moment before the desk changed. Could that have been me? My eyes stayed fixed on my hands as I turned them over to examine them. Nothing seemed different. I certainly didn’t feel any different. There was something off about that interview, about that guy, Dan. He creeped me out. I shivered when I remembered the fear I felt being in the room with him. The way my skin broke out in goosebumps when he touched me. Another twinge of energy ran through me, and I wiggled my fingers. I closed my eyes and willed myself to calm down. If it was me who did that to the desk, I didn’t want the same to happen to my car. What the hell was I thinking? How could I be responsible for the desk? Maybe I needed to see a psychiatrist. My mom had tried to get me to see one year’s ago. Maybe I needed to take her up on that. For now, I certainly couldn’t talk about what just happened. Resting my hands back on the wheel, I drove out of the lot. After all, I still had to go to work. I could think about the craziness of the day when I was home and safe. I just had to get through my shift. That couldn’t be too difficult, right?