by M. S. Parker
Carrie nodded, and her expression shifted to one of sadness. “What am I going to do without you?”
I put my arm around her shoulders. If she started crying, I was going to start and I didn't particularly like the idea of walking around for the next hour or so with red eyes.
“Come on,” I said. “Let's go get some of that cake. I heard Mimi ordered the same as last time: Red Velvet with cream cheese frosting.”
Carrie gave a laugh that had a sniffle in the middle of it. “She always orders Red Velvet...”
I laughed and started to walk us both towards the conference room. I hadn't told Mimi about the interview yet. That was another conversation I didn't really want to have. I pushed down the butterflies that wanted to make an appearance. I wasn't usually the nervous type, but even I had a bit of anxiety about this one. It would be my first big venture completely on my own. Going away to college didn't really count. This was the first adult move I'd be making, and it would be across the country, all by myself. On the one hand, I was excited by the prospect of a change, of soaking up the sun in LA, rubbing elbows with all of the beautiful people; but on the other hand, I'd miss all of my friends. No matter what I told Carrie, I wasn't sure how often I'd be able to make it back across the country. I didn't want to lose the people I cared about, but I didn't want to pass up this chance.
I forced thoughts of myself to the back of my mind as Carrie and I entered the conference room. This wasn't the time or place. This was Carrie's moment to say her good-byes and get her well wishes. My time was coming.
3
I'd flown before, but I'd never been so thankful to have my feet firmly on the ground. I carefully made my way through the corridor, walking more steadily than some of my fellow passengers, most of whom looked just as green as I felt. Despite the anxiety and nausea caused by our turbulent six hour flight, I also saw smiles on many of the faces as we stepped into the LAX terminal.
I stopped as I stepped into a patch of sunlight. I tilted my head back and closed my eyes, letting myself soak it in. I'd left a cloudy and overcast New York at seven thirty in the morning and arrived in sunny Los Angeles at ten thirty, thanks to the time zone changes. I had thirty minutes before my interview, so I headed to the bathrooms first to freshen up. My phone said only three hours had passed, but I probably looked like the full six the trip had taken.
Not even that thought could take the smile off of my face. My queasiness had settled, proving that it had only been the turbulence and not nerves. Now I was ready. Not just ready. I was excited.
I was here. Los Angeles. The City of Dreams. This was the only place in the world where your handyman would give you his screenplay after fixing your air conditioner. In New York, there were the waiters and waitresses who were waiting for their big break on Broadway or as 'serious' writers, but in Hollywood, pretty much everyone wanted to be something more.
I had only my carry-on with me since I was only staying for a couple of days, which meant I didn't have to stop at the baggage claim. That was good. I wanted to have the time to make myself look presentable. No, I amended. I wanted to look good. I stepped into the bathroom, put my bag on the counter and got to work. The company had offered to put me up in a hotel for two nights so that if they wanted a second interview, I wouldn't have to fly back out in two days. They'd been very accommodating.
When I was sure that my tanned skin looked flawless and my thick black hair was behaving itself, I smoothed down the skirt of my sensible business suit and headed back out into the main lobby. This time, I went for the line of people waiting for pick-ups. Sure enough, there was a man in a black suit holding a sign with my name on it. I grinned when I saw that they'd actually spelled it right. Points to Mirage Talent. I don't know how many job offers I’d turned down because they spelled my name wrong or tried to make it Kristine or Kristen. Nope. It was just Krissy, and if they couldn't take the time to learn that, I didn't want to work for them.
“Ms. Jensen.” The driver inclined his head as I approached. “May I take your bag?”
A slightly snarky and very inappropriate comment popped into my head, but I held my tongue. Even if the driver was kinda cute in a tall and gawky kind of way, I wasn't going to risk a potentially awesome job for a one-liner.
“Thank you,” I said as I handed over the bag. It wasn't very heavy, but it was on the bulky side, so carrying it always made me feel like I was walking lopsided, especially in the four inch heels I'd chosen for today.
I was a little over average height even without the shoes, and they put me a nice five foot ten. That was a good height, I'd found, for meeting new clients and potential employers. Tall enough so that I didn't have to strain to talk to taller men, but not so tall that I ended up towering over most of them. I'd also found that the heels complemented my figure. I was just a touch too curvy to be considered slender, but the heels made my legs look longer and thinner.
I felt good as I followed the driver to a black Town Car. I'd felt the admiring looks from men, and a couple women, as I'd passed and knew that I'd chosen the right ensemble for the day. I wanted admiration, not cat calls. Attractive but professional was always the right call for first impressions. If I got the job, I'd take a lay of the land and figure out where I was on the fashion scale.
The driver didn't say a word as he eased into the infamous LA traffic and began to make his way towards Mirage Talent. I stared out the tinted windows, completely enchanted by the skyline. It was so different than New York or Chicago. The sky seemed so much bigger here, the sun brighter. I hadn't realized just how much I was going to love it. I'd told Carrie that I might look around for another job out here if I didn't get the one at Mirage, but I'd only been half-serious. Now, after less than half an hour in California, I was certain this was where I wanted to be.
The car pulled up in front of an impressive building with the Mirage logo on the front of its steel and glass exterior. I took a deep breath, feeling a small flutter of nerves in my stomach. I had to admit, the place was a little intimidating.
“My bag?” I asked the driver as he opened the door.
“I'll be the one taking you to your hotel, Miss, so the bag is safe in the trunk.” His face was carefully blank, the kind of professional expression that told me, despite his youthful appearance, he'd been doing this for a while.
“Thank you,” I said as I started towards the front doors.
It took all of my self-control not to gawk at the lobby as I walked inside. It was done in the same steel and glass style as the exterior, but inside it was even more impressive. People expected the outsides of buildings to be like that, but the inside made it feel like something sleek and modern. It was the exact opposite of the old-fashioned antiques and art work of Webster and Steinberg. I'd never been very fond of that style. This, however, this I liked. I could work here and love every minute of being in this building.
The receptionist beamed at me as I approached and I wondered if she was really that friendly or if it was an act. If I was back in New York, I would've leaned towards fake, but she seemed genuine.
“Hi.” I returned her smile with one of my own. No way was I going to get the reputation as the bitchy New Yorker. “I'm here for an appointment. Krissy Jensen.”
“Of course, Miss Jensen,” she said. “If you just keep going through that set of doors, you'll come to the reception seating area. Have a seat in there and you'll be called as soon as they're ready for you.”
The seating area was just as gorgeous as the lobby. Across from the set of doors I'd just come through were two more doors, also steel and glass, but these were frosted so that I couldn't see what lay behind them. To my left was a huge leather couch and, across from it, separated by a massive glass coffee table, were two large leather chairs.
A handsome young man was already sitting in one of the chairs, so I headed for the couch. I picked up a magazine off of table and opened it without really looking at it. I stole a glance at the man across from me, and then took a
second look. He had the white blond hair, blue eyes and tan that I'd always associated with California guys, the kind of guy who looked like he'd be just at home on a beach, wearing shorts and carrying a surfboard, as he was sitting across from me in khakis and a button-down shirt.
“Who's your agent?”
It took me a moment to realize that he was talking to me.
“Oh, I'm not here for...I'm an attorney.” I smiled at him. “I'm here for a job interview.”
“Ah.” His teeth flashed white against his tanned skin and I wondered how often he had to bleach them. No one had teeth that white.
“I'm Krissy Jensen,” I said.
“Taylor Moore.” He leaned across the table and held out a hand.
I took it, giving him a firm and brief handshake. Normally, I would've been all over that, but I didn't think it was smart to hit on a client, or at least someone who was the client of my potential employer.
“You know,” he said as he leaned back. “I have to admit, I wouldn't have pegged you for a lawyer.”
I raised an eyebrow. If he was going to flirt, I wasn't going to encourage him, but I wasn't going to say no, either.
His grin widened, showing dimples. “Women in LA who look like you are models or actresses.” His gaze ran over me, the light in his eyes saying that he was definitely being more than polite. “I'm guessing you're under five eight, so probably not a model, even though you're gorgeous enough to be one.”
He got points for saying I was too short, not that I was too...curvaceous.
“So I guessed an actress.”
“Wrong, but very observant,” I said as I set aside my magazine.
“And you're not from around here,” he commented. “I thought I'd caught an accent before. Now I'm sure. Where are you from?”
“New...” I paused. “Born and raised in Chicago but I've been in New York for a while.”
He nodded. “I'm from Wisconsin.” When I didn't pry with a question, he offered more information. “I came out here after high school to be an actor. I've done a few commercials. Local stuff, so you wouldn't have seen me in anything...yet. I've got things in the works. Who are you interviewing with?”
I had to admit, I was impressed. He was definitely into me, but he hadn't asked yet if I was married or had a boyfriend. Most guys would've asked that question first or second, not wanting to waste their time with someone who was already taken.
“The head of the legal department. Mr. Duncan.”
He nodded. “That's good. It's a good thing it's not with DeVon.”
That didn't sound good. I knew DeVon Ricci was the head of the company, but I hadn't done a lot of research on him. I'd focused on Duncan, since that's who I had to get through first. If I made it to the second interview, then I'd planned to start looking into Ricci. Now I wasn't so sure I'd made the right choice. Maybe I should've checked Ricci out first.
“What's wrong with Mr. Ricci?”
Taylor shrugged. “Let's just say DeVon has his own...unique style.” He sounded like he was being very careful with his word choices. “If you were interviewing with DeVon, I think he'd scare you off and I want you to stick around.”
I gave him a polite smile. “Thank you.” I straightened. “But I wouldn't be too worried,” I added. “I don't scare easily.”
“Miss Jensen?” A petite red-head came through the frosted glass doors. “Mr. Duncan will see you now.”
I stood and smoothed down my skirt. “It was nice to have met you.”
“And you,” Taylor said. His eyes ran down my legs. “I look forward to seeing more of you very soon.”
The heat in his eyes suggested he wasn't just talking about seeing me again around the agency. When he said more, he meant more and it took all of my self-control not to fire back with a double-entendre of my own.
“Have a good day,” I said as I followed the red-head through the doors. I could feel Taylor's eyes on me as I walked. I was pretty sure he was staring at my ass, so I put a little more swing in my hips than I normally would have. Might as well leave him with a good impression.
I was definitely liking Hollywood.
“Mr. Duncan?” The red-head knocked on an open door at the end of a corridor.
I caught a glimpse of an elevator to my left. A sign next to it said “Private.” That must lead to the mysterious Mr. Ricci, I thought as I walked into the office.
An attractive man in his mid-fifties stood on the other side of a very expensive-looking desk. He had such light-colored hair that, at first, I wasn't sure if it was blond or white, but then I realized that he had been blond, but his hair was streaked with silver, giving it a strange, dual-colored look. His eyes were intelligent and a pale gray that contrasted strongly with his tanned skin. My boss back home would've been all over this guy.
“Mr. Duncan.” I gave him my best professional smile as I held out my hand.
His handshake was brisk, but not rude. That was good. Too many men either snatched their hands away like they were afraid I'd read something into their touch if they lingered too long, or they purposefully lingered, turning the shake into a holding.
“Please, have a seat.” He gestured to the chair across from his.
I sat carefully, crossing my ankles and tucking my feet under my chair. My skirt was an appropriate length for work, but I didn't want to take any chances on flashing my prospective boss. He didn't seem like the type who'd appreciate the view. And I was grateful for that. I didn't want someone more interested in what was between my legs than what was between my ears.
“You have quite an impressive resumé for someone so young, Miss Jensen,” he began.
The interview was like something out of a dream. He asked specific questions and seemed pleased with the answers I gave, though not overly exuberant about them. Another good sign. He wanted to make sure I knew that I'd done well, but didn't want to show any sort of sign as to how I measured up against the competition.
“I do have to ask, Miss Jensen,” Mr. Duncan said as he set down my resumé. “Do you have any desire to become an actress, model or celebrity of any kind?”
The question surprised me, but I didn't let it show. “No, Sir,” I answered promptly. “I've never wanted to be in the spotlight like that. Put me in a courtroom in front of a judge and jury, and I'll be a star, but I don't want to be in front of a camera.”
He gave me a partial smile. “That's very good, Miss Jensen. You understand, in our business, we attract a lot of attractive young people who see this place as a stepping stone, but not to rise in the legal department. They think that they can use us to get their 'big break' and that is not something we encourage.”
“I understand.” I nodded, thankful that I was being completely honest. “I'm not interested in any of that. I want to rise in the company, but as a lawyer, not as anything else.” I decided that bold was a good idea. “In fact, Sir, I'd like to see myself sitting in that desk one day.” I let one side of my mouth twitch up into a half smile. “Many years from now, of course.”
Mr. Duncan gave me a full smile, his eyes twinkling. It was good to know that the serious face wasn't all there was to him. “That's very good, Miss Jensen.” He stood and I did the same. “While we do have other interviews to conduct, I would like you to come in tomorrow for a second interview.”
I tried not to let how excited I was show. “Thank you, Sir.”
“And, Miss Jensen,” he added. “You are one of our most promising candidates.”
Now I couldn't stop the smile. “Thank you.” I almost sounded like I was gushing and I forced myself to rein it in.
“Your driver will take you to your hotel. Enjoy the rest of your day here and be back at nine tomorrow morning, prepared for a more in depth interview. We are only conducting two second interviews, so it is imperative that you come fully prepared.”
I wasn't sure, but that sounded to me like a warning. Taylor's comment about DeVon Ricci came back to me. As I walked out of the office, I wondered if
that's what Mr. Duncan had meant. Was I going to be meeting the big boss tomorrow? And if I was, what could he possibly have planned that I would need to prepare for? I had to admit, the thought did make me a little nervous.
I set my jaw as I walked back out into the California sun. I wasn't going to let it bother me. I knew I was perfect for this job and nothing was going to keep me from making sure everyone at Mirage Talent knew it too.
4
I had a feeling my driver was taking the scenic route to the hotel. I wasn't minding, though. I'd never seen anything like this city before and even my excitement over how well the interview had gone couldn't distract me from the view. When we finally pulled up in front of the hotel, I was eager to get to my room, shower and head out into the sunshine. I hadn't eaten much that morning, not liking to fly on a full stomach, and I was starting to get hungry. I couldn't wait to see what Los Angeles had to offer.
I thanked the driver as he handed my bag to the valet waiting at the entrance. This was a nicer hotel than any I'd been to in New York, but it was impossible to compare them, really. New York was stone and history. No matter how updated their buildings were, they always had a sense of being old, especially the swankiest hotels. This one was modern, with clean-cut lines. If New York was 'old money' then this was new, and I loved it.
“Miss Jensen, you've been upgraded.” The clerk at the desk gave me a pleasant smile.
“Excuse me?” I knew I couldn't have heard her correctly. Mirage was a wealthy company and they obviously liked to show their potential employees a good time, but a hospitality suite at a hotel like this was already above and beyond.
“You've been upgraded to a top floor suite,” the woman clarified.
“By whom?” I didn't mean to sound rude, but it was a bit of a shock. I mean, my interview had gone well, but this was ridiculous.
The clerk's smile faltered for a moment, then came back, steady as ever. Definitely a wanna-be actress. “Mirage Talent, of course,” she said. She slid a keycard across the desk. “Marcus will help you with your bag.”