by Jamie Knight
Not a minute into being fixed up, I’m running again. I’m living life by the seat of my pants, probably looking like the King of Frump.
I’ll probably never look like anything less in this damn suit and tie. Not unless my interview goes the way it needs to go, and I get transferred out of the legal assistants’ floor, or as I like to call it, the unknown eighth level of hell.
Chapter Six - Tommy
I make it to Conference Room 103 with less than a minute to spare. I slow down my pace, take a minute to gather my wits and my breath, and then I push through the door.
As I do so, I mentally Pep talk myself. I remind myself not to ramble too much and not to make too many unnecessary, anxious moves. Otherwise, I’m going to mess up Melissa’s handiwork and the good impression she’s trying to help me make. I don’t want to do that.
The moment I’m all the way in the conference room, I see three people seated at a large twenty-person conference table. One person at the table I recognize is Joan Vanacore, the successful lawyer from Mississippi. She’s got long, white hair, perfectly-tanned skin, and the chiseled features that would give someone like Meryl Streep or Robin Wright a run for their money.
The other two people present I don’t recognize — one woman and one man. The woman has short hair, olive-colored skin, and a feisty personality. The moment she sees me, she invites me in.
“Tommy Radner, I assume?”
I nod, holding my file folder of resumes and letters of recommendation close to me.
The woman smiles pleasantly.
“Excellent! I’m Charlotte, head of HR.”
She gestures to one of the many chairs across from her and Vanacore and the unknown male.
“Please. Have a seat, Tommy.”
The unknown male next to her gives me the barest of eye contact as I take a seat. He looks bored. I have a feeling he’s also with HR. And I have a feeling that he’s not going to be doing much talking. He’s got way too many papers in front of him for that.
The moment I sit down, I have to remind myself to breathe.
“Bit of a difficult morning for you, young man?”
The voice that addresses me sounds like an aged whiskey or bourbon — deep, a little jagged and rough, but also musical. It’s also got that southern charm to it.
Following the voice, my eyes immediately lock with those of Joan Vanacore. They are light gray, like spun, slightly dirtied cotton. Not the kind you could lose yourself in necessarily, but definitely the kind that will leave you disarmed.
I actually have to shake myself out of the kind of “spell” I can feel falling over me from her. It’s a kind of slowness or fuzziness around and through me.
“No, no, ma’am. It’s not been a difficult morning.”
“You look a little out of breath,” she says, and then I really do feel that way — squeezed of oxygen. Her eyes have gotten even more bluish gray, but bright, almost silver. “And a little out of sorts, young man.” She says this, but it’s with a little humor, not scolding.
Again, I have to work to snap myself out of whatever haze she’s putting on me. I wouldn’t say that I’m feeling an attraction to her. It’s more like she’s compelling me in some way or drawing me to her.
“Well, this is… this interview is something that I…”
“Don’t want to be late for?” Joan Vanacore smiles at me, and the smile shines like California gold. “I understand perfectly, young man. I felt much the same way during my first interview in a law firm years and years ago.”
She pauses.
“But there’s no reason to be nervous. Despite whatever rumors you may or may not have heard about me, I’m quite gentle. A bit picky, but I only want to make sure I find a young person with enough drive and ambition to match my own.”
She pauses, studying me. She’s savoring whatever she’s looking at in me.
“Shall we see if that’s you, my boy?”
I nod, not sure how I’m feeling now. I’m nervous for sure, but now it’s not just for what I’m going to say or what questions they’re going to ask. It’s from the way Vanacore has me in her sights. The way she seems to linger on every part of me that she can see above the table, and in a way, I’ve never been looked at before — with something like desire.
“We can get started any time if you’re ready, Tommy,” says Charlotte, and at that moment, I’m feeling grateful for her interruption.
I find refuge in Charlotte’s eyes. While I would say that I find Ms. Vanacore good-looking, it’s not like I’m into her. It’s just that I’m unnerved by her aura and by the effect her eyes have on me. The way they seem to wrap me up and bind me in a way I’m not entirely sure I like or can resist.
“I’m ready if you’re ready,” I say, putting my folder down on the table.
Embarrassingly, it has sweat on it from my hands and fingers, but I quickly open it up, hoping no one there at the table notices.
“I’ve got some resumes and uh —” I say, quickly rummaging through the folder and picking out pieces of paper that are, thank God, organized better than the way I had them originally, “— letters of recommendation.”
I put the resume and copies of the letters of recommendation before all three of them.
“I’ve got one for each of you if you’re interested.”
Vanacore immediately takes an interest in what I’ve given her. She picks up the pieces of paper I’ve left in front of her and begins to peruse them. As she does so, she pushes up her fancy silver-rimmed glasses. For being a southern woman, she’s got a rather urban style.
“You’ve been quite busy since college, Mr. Radner,” she says, and with each word, I feel like I’m a barrel being filled with finely aged liquor.
“You’ve had some pretty good internships and made a memorable impact on all of your coworkers and internship leaders,” she adds, perusing the letters of recommendation. “Driven. Attentive to detail and to client needs. It says you have an uncanny knack for understanding how the law moves and flows. The intricacy and flexibility of it.”
She hums pleasantly as if she’s tasting something gourmet.
“‘Treats the law as a living, breathing creature. Something that can work miracles and magic in the lives of the people, if used correctly,’” she says, reading verbatim from one of the recommendations.
She looks over at me from the letter she brings down.
“Those are some very unique and intriguing statements about you, Mr. Radner. So far, I like what I see. I like what I’ve read.”
She sets down the papers, petting them with her delicate, ringed hand like a pet. “Far and above some of the other applicants I’ve met with over the past few weeks.”
She turns to Charlotte, who’s also been perusing the papers I gave her, but she’s doing so with much more professionalism and efficiency.
“Wouldn’t you say so, Mrs. Anderson?”
Charlotte laughs nervously.
“Vanacore,” she says, “I keep telling you that hasn’t happened yet.”
“Oh, right, right,” she says, smiling slightly. “You and Calvin get along so well, I keep forgetting the two of you aren’t married to each other yet.”
“Anyway,” says Charlotte, stressing that word in her mouth. “I agree with Ms. Vanacore here. You are much more accomplished and attentive than most of the people we’ve seen over the last few weeks.”
She looks to her male counterpart, not surprised that he’s only giving a cursory glance to anything I provided.
“What do you think, Mr. Smith?”
My stomach drops as I realize the third person across from me is Ashton Smith, one of the CEOs.
I’m kind of glad I didn’t know he was sitting here the whole time, so that I wasn’t even more nervous than I already felt. But now that I know he’s here, I’m definitely fucking nervous!
Chapter Seven - Tommy
“Tommy,” says Ashton, swiveling his office ch
air slightly, “I’d like to begin this interview with a simple question. Why work for Ms. Vanacore? Why this position?”
He looks at my resume.
“You’ve worked on the legal assistants’ floor for almost five years and have become a sort of ‘lead’ among the people working there. I talked to a lot of your coworkers, and they said you do a good job. You are not always the most personable, but a lot of them said they rely on you heavily and look to you for guidance.”
They look to me to do their work is more like it, I think, but I don’t say that out loud.
It doesn’t matter, though, because Vanacore sees something. She gives me a kind of strange, knowing smile as if she’s run into those kinds of people before as well.
I look away from her, saying, “Yes, I suppose you could say that. I’m one of the more responsible people on that floor, I think, so if they are looking to me for guidance, that’s why. I often have to remind others of what they are supposed to be doing and how they are supposed to be doing it.”
Charlotte nods.
“How do you feel about that? Do you enjoy being their go-to?”
“Not really,” I say, surprised by my own honesty. “I mean, I’m grateful that I’ve had the opportunity to be able to work for this company as long as I have, but it’s not really my job to be telling other legal assistants how to work properly.”
Vanacore chuckles at this, whistles, and murmurs something under her breath. Something I think sounds like, “hot one there,” but I can’t be sure.
Ashton frowns and swivels in his chair again. Charlotte smiles knowingly and nervously.
“Of course,” she says. “I don’t think I would enjoy doing something that was outside my job description, especially if I wasn’t getting paid enough to do those types of tasks.”
I blush, feeling sweaty. The financial motive insinuation she’s just made is not lost on me.
“It’s not about the money so much,” I say, not sure if that’s entirely true. “I just want out of there. I want to be utilized better.”
I clear my throat, feeling it go dry and papery.
“I’ve been applying to various open positions under lawyers for the past year or so,” I add, surprised that I’m even adding this and being so forthright. “Ever since we got all the new mergers and partnerships and everything, I’ve been applying to openings, hoping that I would get my chance to show off my skills and use those skills to help out a lawyer, but I keep getting passed over.”
Here, it’s Vanacore and her “poor baby” kind of noise that grabs my attention and puts it back on her.
“Isn’t that the way of it, Tommy? Those of us who are legitimately skilled, we always end up getting passed over for things, and by people with not nearly as much talent or commitment?”
By the edge in her voice, I know she’s speaking from personal experience. By the steely, dull darkness in his eyes, I know she’s gone through pain over it.
“And all because of silly things. Like how we look. Who we love, what we desire.” “Look,” “love,” and “desire” are charged words in her mouth. So charged, that they cause some kind of electric or static shock to go through me.
Somehow, I have landed on her radar, and it’s not something I’m sure I like.
“Tell me, Tommy. What do you desire? If you could have any kind of growth, any kind of reward for your hard work, for your diligent study and your commitment to the law, what would it be?”
The way Vanacore appraises me as she asks these questions makes me feel naked and exposed.
“I want a chance,” I say, working to steady my voice.
It’s begun to shake, along with my hands.
“I want an opportunity to do some real work. To serve in a noticeable capacity and get away from being a nobody. All those other legal aids down there, they all want to be somebody too, but they don’t want to put in the work. They haven’t put in the work, and they’re not going to.”
Surprisingly, my rage starts to come through. The volume in my voice goes up, as does the heat. I actually have to work to cool it down some before I speak again.
“They expect something for nothing. They expect me to do work they won’t do, and then act like I won’t ever amount to anything.”
Vanacore frowns. She gets a semi-dangerous look in those gray-blue eyes of hers. Again, they’ve almost turned silver under some ringlets of her white, wizard-like hair.
“I’ve seen as much from the resumes and letters of recommendations from most of the other candidates we’ve interviewed. They are thankless and lackluster. Hoping to work with me, as if I’m some charity. Some distributor of free handouts,” she says. “But you look like you could hold up to my demands.”
Demands.
That has a strange ring to it and even stranger vibe. Something I’m not quite sure how to interpret but know I can’t ignore. Before my brain can get me to messed up over what I’m feeling and why, Charlotte jumps in.
“What Ms. Vanacore is trying to say,” she says, allowing me to focus back on her for a moment, “is that she has very particular ways she wants her work done, and her office handled.”
She leans forward a bit, allowing me to see a huge engagement ring on one of her fingers.
“She has very tight deadlines. Huge caseloads,” she adds, emphasizing that last bit. “I’m talking on a daily basis, not weekly. It’s this kind of thing that most candidates for the job didn’t like. This is where they started negotiating that workload and those demands.”
“But you don’t seem like you’re the type to do that — refuse my specific instructions or needs,” says Vanacore, bringing my attention back to her and back to the hands she’s folded on the desk in front of her.
Again, her rings capture my attention and signal to me of her wealth, power, and dignity.
“Are you, Tommy?”
I nod my head, thinking I’m shaking it. Until I realize what I’m doing, and quickly change it.
“Yes, I mean, uh, n-no, ma’am. I understand completely. I have specific ways I require other people on my floor to do their work, especially if they’ve come up to me and asked me to help them. Or do it for them, as is the case most times, just so everything can be uniform and not get spat back to us by the partners.”
“I’m very demanding, Tommy,” says Vanacore, fixing me with her eyes again. “Very particular. I nitpick. I lecture, and I scold, when necessary.”
The look in her eyes reminds me of an old-fashioned mother-figure type. The kind who wouldn’t hesitate to use a very fancy looking cane as part of her lecture or scolding.
A thought that has me shifting in my seat and seeing her in a different light. Not as someone who might be putting a spell on me, but someone who might honestly wish to help me and give me the benefit of the doubt.
“I am firm on my requirements, but I am fair. And I don’t just pick anyone, Tommy. When I like someone, I like them. And it’s very hard for me to like the majority of men and women I’ve seen here.”
She pauses, nibbling lightly on a fingernail.
“But I like you. You’re young, but you have a good work ethic. You’re not the snappiest dresser, but you’ve got a grasp of how to communicate properly and effectively.”
I blush, hating the fact that this damn suit brings me so much unwanted attention, but I remind myself that I can’t lose my poise.
“Nearly every person we’ve interviewed has slouched in their chairs, has become informal, or even brought out their stupid cell phones. But not you. You’ve kept it all professional and well mannered.”
“Thank you,” I say, hearing those words squeak a little. “Thank you, Ms. Vanacore.”
“I don’t flatter, Tommy.”
She licks her lips.
“Flattery may work for some folks, but I only tell it like it is. I only will tell you something good about yourself if you’ve earned it.”
I nod, feeling sweaty behind my ea
rs.
What’s with this woman? And what’s with the way she’s making me feel?
My face has begun to warm under her words and energy. Again, I’m not sure if it’s due to something I’m feeling, or the power and presence of her eyes and whatever aura she’s getting me with.
I’m not sure how I’m feeling about her, but it’s not really what I should be feeling at the moment. Not during this interview, and not toward my potential boss.
“I’d say I’m inclined to give you a try,” says Ashton. “Based on your skills and the references you brought, those alone would be enough for me to strongly consider you.”
I nod quickly. I murmur some thanks to him.
“I’d say you’ve definitely outgrown your time on the associate’s floor,” Charlotte says. “I’m a bit of a go-getter myself, so I know what it’s like to feel stifled and limited by the job you have versus the job you want.”
She smiles and neatly organizes my papers.
“If it were up to me, I’d offer you the job right here. Right now. You clearly care about this company and the work you do for it, so nothing would make me happier than to give you a promotion.”
She looks over at Vanacore, and then back at me.
“But I’m not the woman with the job to offer. I’m just here to make it official if it’s to happen and offer my perspective.” She sighs, looking over at Vanacore again. “The rest is up to her. It is up to whether you satisfy those needs she has or not.”
“Well, Tommy,” says Vanacore, clearing her throat. “I already said I liked you. I already said that you have a lot of things that people your age just don’t seem to have any more.”
She licks her lips again, but this time I feel something more behind it. Something a little less to do with any dryness she may have there, and something more to do with ideas or plans lying elsewhere in her head.
“But since there are particular ways these things get handled, I suppose I have to say it.”
She hangs her head, as if thinking. It isn’t long. I get the feeling it’s just enough for the “show” of it. A few seconds later, she brings her head back up and finds my eyes.