Copyright
Make it Reighn is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
MAKE IT REIGHN: A NOVEL
Copyright © 2018 by R. J. Castille
All rights reserved.
Editing by KP Editing
Cover design by KP Designs
Published by Kingston Publishing Company
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Table of Contents
Copyright
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Dedication
To my Fans.
Chapter 1
Jessica
It had been my dream since I was a little girl to work for Threads, one of the most popular fashion magazines in the United States. It was always prominently on display at the cashier counter at every store in the city, its cover displayed proudly for everyone to view as they unloaded their cart onto the conveyor belt that would carry their purchases toward the cashier. I would occasionally talk my mother into buying me a copy, which would be carefully placed in a drawer in my bedroom until I was ready to pour through the pages, savoring every picture and every word in between the covers. The photographers always did a marvelous job at capturing the beautiful models in whatever was supposed to be trending that season. The images telling a silent story as my eyes drifted across each one. At last, in my early-twenties, I was sitting in a waiting area awaiting an interview to be an intern at the magazine.
There was no way I would ever be one of the models, which was my initial dream, I was not built for that. I was shorter than most of the people in my class every year, my hair an average color of mousy brown and my eyes were a shade of brown that reminded me of muddy water. I always saw myself as that plain Jane, girl next door type, and based solely on my attention from the boys in my classes (or more specifically the lack thereof), so did everybody else. My mother always told me as I grew up that, although I was not one of the beautiful people, I had my purpose in this life and soon enough I would find out what that was. Most moms encouraged their child’s dreams and fantasies, even if they knew there was no chance in hell their daughter would ever succeed at what they wanted to do, but not mine. She was always straight and to the point, and never pulled any punches.
What I did have, in the absence of phenomenal good looks and a flawless physique, was the ability to put anything down into words that I thought of. Stories, poetry, even the essays that most people dreaded being assigned were easy for me. All I needed was a handful of facts: names; dates; places, and I could weave a tale so believable, you would have thought I was right there when whatever it was I had to write about happened. I in fact, preferred an essay test over a multiple choice test any day of the week. Most people would prefer to take their chances with the four selections available to choose from on a test where the answers were given to you, but I fancied the idea that I might impress my professors with my wordsmithing abilities. They were never disappointed.
College was fairly uneventful. I mostly kept to myself, my nose shoved into a book at almost every minute of every day. It was not my cup of tea to party all night like my roommates did, and I never fawned all over the latest hottie that had come to campus, I just did my work and moved on. I was all business. The result of my dedication to my studies was that I had completed a bachelor’s degree in just over three years. That was unheard of at California State University Long Beach. Unheard of, but not impossible. I graduated with top honors, third in my class, with a degree in Journalism. It disappointed me that I had not made Valedictorian, but there was always someone who was smarter and hungrier than I was, in this case two people, and I just could not compete with them. Those two were literally geniuses.
Fortunately, I was not completely alone at school. My best friend since grade school, Courtney, had been accepted to the same school as I had and later became my roommate. I do not know what I would have done without her. Although she was taller, slenderer and definitely prettier than I was, she always had my back. It seemed as though, despite the fact that she never admitted it out loud, Courtney had purposefully rejected the other two Universities that had practically begged her to attend, in favor of sticking it out with me. I was touched, of course, but I couldn’t help but think that she could have been so much more if I had not been the one to cause her stay. Harvard, one of the schools at the top of her list, wanted her badly and even offered her a two-year, full scholarship. For some reason, however, she was determined to stay close by.
It may have been the fact that I had saved her ass on a number of occasions in high school. One particular evening, after a Friday night football game, we were hanging out with a few people when things went terribly wrong. I walked into the room in time to find Stuart, her male companion for the evening, holding her down on the ground and forcing himself upon her. He was just about to reach up her skirt and take what he wanted when I happened to wander into the room looking for my friend. In an instant, I brought my book down on his head and he fell to the side. The Grapes of Wrath by John Steinbeck is a fairly large book and I happened to have borrowed the hardback version from the local library. Courtney had always made fun of me for always having a novel or textbook shoved under my arm or into my purse. She never laughed at me for it after that.
Courtney had been the one to find the posting online for the internships. She knew quite well how much I wanted to crawl inside the pages of Threads and deny the real world my very existence and had immediately forwarded me the link to apply. At first, I argued with her, making up a thousand excuses about why I would never be able to get a position there. I met a serious, dead pan stare. I knew I wasn’t going to get away with not putting in my resume as long as she was around. After filling out several pages of an online application, updating and attaching my resume, and pressing the submit button, Courtney was finally satisfied.
I almost laughed out loud as I sat patiently waiting my turn to interview at the memory of the look on my friend’s face when I tried to make my excused. She had literally sat on top of my lap to keep me in my chair in front of the computer until I had nearly finished filling out the online forms. Instead, I bit my lip to keep the sound from escaping me lips as I glanced around at the other figures in the waiting area.
There were two other equally nervous looking girls seated opposite me. Both of them platinum blonde with bright blue eyes. They were not seated right next to each other and their body language gave the impression that they did not know each other, despite their clothing looking almost identical. The girls looked to be around the same age as me, but obviously had a much better sense of fashion. Tall, over-the-knee boots graced their slender legs coming to rest ju
st below the hemline of short, black, pencil skirts. Even their blouses looked similar, a small bow tied neatly on the front at the neckline where it was drawn together. At the sight of them seated slightly turned away from each other, I almost laughed again.
I was nowhere near their caliber. It occurred to me that my outfit in no way reflected high fashion and that could prove as a problem. They would likely take one look at me and either laugh or shoo me quickly from the building. Looking down at my plain black blazer, white camisole and pantyhose that was one size too big, causing them to bunch up at the ankles, I sighed. That time I forgot to hold back, and the sound escaped my lips, eliciting strange looks from the two blondies across the way. I diverted my eyes away and found a place on the wall on the other side of the room to stare at instead. The heat made its way across my chest, up my neck and to my cheeks which I knew manifested itself as a deep crimson blush.
“Jessica?” A high-pitched voice found my ears and I snapped my attention in the direction it had come from. A tall, redhead stood in the open doorway on the far side of the space. I jumped up so quickly, I nearly lost my balance and fell forward. That would have been the icing on the cake and extremely embarrassing. Playing it off as best I could, I started in her direction, sparing a glance at the two others out of the corner of my eye as I went.
“Right here!” My own voice pierced my ears. Far too high pitched and I sounded overly cheerful as I reached out my hand to shake hers in greeting. Instead of grasping my hand in hers, she just looked down at it and then back up to my face. She gave me another once over, taking my appearance in and rolled her eyes as she turned to retreat from where she came from. I followed her down a short hallway that suddenly met a dead-end several feet from the door. Practically nipping at her heels, I chased her past several open doors, around two additional corners and to the end of a longer hallway where she stopped in front of a door. Grasping the handle in her hand she turned it and pulled it open, motioning for me to step inside.
The air on the other side of the door was cold, close to freezing. As I crossed the threshold, I glanced around briefly, noting the sterile décor inside. Nothing on the walls, the floor a gleaming white marble stretching infinitely to the other side where three figures were seated at a long conference table. I had not noticed until my eyes fell onto them, that they were all staring at me. Their expectant gazes were a mixture of irritation and urgency, especially the short but extremely thin gentleman on the right. His eyes traveled up and down my form, just as the redhead who had come to collect me had done. He too rolled his eyes slightly, which had me suddenly rethinking the entire situation.
On the opposite end of the table, a brunette with soft features was seated. She looked on with the same impatient glare as I made my way to a chair that was centered across from the trio. I thought her eyes were going to burn me up based on the intensity of her eyes. My eyes finally found the one in the center of the table. She sat tall, her red hair cascading down to her shoulders in soft waves that contrasted nicely against her cream-colored blouse. Bright blue eyes found mine and held them captive as a smile crept across her lips. There was something soothing about her, amber energy surrounded her in a warm glow as I turned my full attention to her, ignoring the others.
I came to a stop next to the chair that was set directly across from their table in the middle of the floor. The hot seat, my mind lamented as I glanced between the chair and the people seated at the table. Finally, after allowing me to stand there awkwardly for what seemed like an eternity, the redhead motioned for me to take a seat. I obliged as quickly as I could without making a fool out of myself. She smiled warmly at me as I lowered myself onto the wooden surface and turned my full attention to them.
“Good morning, Ms. Goldstein,” her voice was like velvet, smooth and soft. I could feel the tiny hairs on the back of my neck stand on end as she continued her greeting, “thank you for coming and for your interest in being one of our interns. As you are probably aware, we only have three spots available and we will be interviewing and making a decision by the end of the week.” I had been staring at her lips the entire time she spoke and did not even realize it until she stopped. They were plump and the perfect shade of rose pink. Inside my mind, I briefly wondered what they would feel like brushing lightly against the tender flesh between my thighs. A sudden rush of heat straight to my core had me shifting uncomfortably in my chair as I shook my head slightly and tried to concentrate on what the brunette was now saying.
“I am Natasha Brooks, Director of Human Resources,” her voice was short and clipped. She almost spat the words out of her mouth as opposed to speaking them. By the look on her face and the tone of her voice, she was not a very amiable person, to say the least. I continued to look at her, expecting her to continue, but she did not. Instead of speaking again, she looked to her left at the other two seated next to her and waited.
“Devon Cole, Director of Photography,” the small-framed man stated, his voice a little higher than I imagined by the look of him, the tone tainted by a slight lisp. His hair was clipped short and trimmed neatly down to where it met the cultivated beard that followed the sharp angles of his jawline and down to his chin. If he were to stand up, I doubted he would be much taller than I was, and that was not saying much. Mr. Cole turned his head toward the redhead in the center and regarded her respectfully.
“And I am Regina Schultz. I am the Producer of Threads. One of the internships spots will work directly with me, while the other two vacancies are with Mr. Cole’s division. We would like to get started now, since there are a number of candidates waiting to be interviewed today. Let’s get going, shall we?” Her eyes met mine, bright blue pools that captivated me entirely. I could not tear my gaze from hers and I suddenly noticed that I had been holding my breath the entire time she spoke. Letting the air out slowly between pursed lips in hopes that none of them noticed it, I tried desperately to relax and calm the increasing sense of anxious energy that was beginning to consume me.
All three of them sifted through a stack of papers stacked inside a file folder on the table in front of them. I watched as Regina nodded her head several times as the others scribbled a few notes onto the pages. Ms. Schultz was tapping the tip of her pen on the table as she read and when she finally looked back up at me, I was caught staring directly at her. A smile found its way across her lips when she noticed the intense way I was looking at her.
“Ms. Goldstein, take a deep breath and don’t be so nervous. You look like you are about to have a heart attack and drop dead right here in front of us. Don’t worry, we don’t bite…hard,” she finished her last statement, adding a wink at the end. She laughed at her sentiment as the others just rolled their eyes in her direction. They clearly did not have the same sense of humor as her, if they even had one at all. At her direction, I took in a deep, cleansing breath through my nose and let it out as slowly as I could. Regina continued to regard me as the other two looked back down at my paperwork.
“I see that you graduated recently, and with a 3.98 grade point average,” Devon went first, obviously trying to keep the interview moving, “that’s quite impressive, Ms. Goldstein. Even more impressive is how quickly you graduated. It looks like you finished your courses almost a year early! Tell me, Ms. Goldstein, what was your strategy? How were you able to get things done so quickly and still maintain such an extraordinary average?”
I opened my mouth to speak, but no words came. My mouth had gone completely dry and my brain scrambled to find something to say. Something clever and well thought out would have been perfect, but in the midst of my extreme nervousness, nothing would come to mind. These were the very people I had admired my entire youth, worshipped their work and longed to be one of them. Now that I was sitting in front of some of the key players, the opportunity of a lifetime staring me in my face, I could not seem to come up with a single thing to say. I could almost hear the seconds tick by as all three of them gazed at me, waiting to hear my
response.
“I kept to myself mostly,” finally some kind of response made its way past my lips. I was glad when I saw Ms. Schultz smiling back at me as I started to speak because I was beginning to think I had blown it already. I took another deep breath and continued. “My priority was my studies, not partying and carrying on like most students. It was my intention to finish as quickly as I could, and I am a very deadline driven person. If I set my mind on something, I have the tenacity to follow through as rapidly and as efficiently as possible. That is how I have always operated, and although it has not yielded very many friends in my life, I definitely have learned to push toward the finish line,” Ms. Schultz and Mr. Cole were nodding with each word I spoke. They appeared to be impressed with my answers and I was deeply relieved.
“Very good,” Regina spoke softly, “I like someone who does not get into the weeds. This is a business after all and, although there are times for celebration and socializing, I need someone who can focus on the task at hand and not the latest office gossip.”
“What kind of work experience do you have? You have left that section blank, so I am assuming this would be your first position, but there are always some activities that can translate into work experience on some level. Have you volunteered anywhere? Had any student work experience?” Ms. Brooks broke through the fairly positive energy that I felt flowing through the room until she decided to open her mouth.
“Well,” I searched my mind for some examples. I truly had not done much as I had chosen to focus on my studies in attempt to complete my degree, so it was a little difficult. Finally, I rattled off a few things that seemed to satisfy her question, “I was a tutor for some of the more difficult courses such as Advanced English, Philosophy and Ethics in Journalism. I also volunteered at the public library when I did have spare time. They would have me organize the books, shelve them appropriately and, from time to time, I would assist the patrons when the library was short staffed,” not much by the way of work experience, but it was something. I could only hope that it would suffice, since I really had none to speak of.
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