His To Shatter

by Haley Pearce

  The full enormity of what had just happened finally sunk in as I turned back around in my seat. I’d been anxious about that day to begin with, but I never could have anticipated such a horrifying, exhilarating experience. My mind reeled as I remembered that terrible man on the subway. His foul, deceitful spewing was almost as toxic as his pungent odor. But worse than all that was how helpless he’d made me feel. Exposing himself to me, threatening me, he had tried his best to take away my power. That was something that I could not excuse, no matter how pathetic the perpetrator.

  Thank god Girard had been on that train with me. If he hadn’t been there, would anyone have stood up to help me, or would I have been left alone to fend off the drunken pervert’s advances? I was filled with momentary fury at the inaction of my fellow passengers. I’d always heard that New Yorkers stuck up for their own. Perhaps, I allowed, they could tell that I wasn’t a real New Yorker. Not yet.

  I closed my eyes, remembering the clear-eyed kindness that Girard had showed me. It tore at my heart to know that I’d never see him again. I didn’t even know the man’s last name. But it was probably for the best, I reasoned. He was clearly a successful, wealthy, cosmopolitan man; I was a striving, broke graduate student with no experience when it came to men. Parting ways after our brief meeting was the best way our interaction could have gone. Besides, it wouldn’t do to be distracted now, not when so much of my future hung in the balance.

  Drawing in deep, steadying breaths, I readied myself for the interview. I’d been preparing for weeks, running through every possible question that they might have for me and then some. I was the right girl for the internship, I felt it in the core of my being. Now all I had to do was convince them of the same.

  The cab pulled up in front of a gleaming, pristine building. I stepped onto the curb and looked up at the skyscraper towering above me. This was it—the meeting that could alter the course of my life. No big deal, right? I thought to myself. I paused before the revolving doors for just a second before striding into the building like I owned it. Nothing—no bum, billionaire, or jealous assistant—was going to keep me from what I wanted.

  * * * * *

  Chapter Three

  * * * * *

  Stepping into the lobby of the skyscraper was like being transported to another world. The moment I entered from the revolving door, I knew that I had begun an entirely new chapter of my life. No matter what happened next, I was now among the people who walk into huge, shiny office buildings with a purpose. I expected to feel like a fish out of water in the corporate environment, but instead I felt emboldened. I had as much right to be there as anyone else, and what was more, I had a destiny to fulfill. I drew myself up and stole a glance at my reflection in the front windows. For a second, I almost didn’t recognize the woman standing there. She was confident, put together, and had an air of determination about her. I smiled, wondering what my fifteen-year-old self would have thought if she could see me then. I had definitely come a long way since West Chester, and I knew that there was so much farther to go.

  Smiling pleasantly at the building’s security guard, I made my way towards the elevators across the lobby. My high heels clicked against the tiles, and the sound was music to my ears. I felt like an adult for perhaps the first time as I headed to my interview. Maybe it was simply the feeling of being in the right place, doing exactly the right thing, that had me feeling so buoyant. I was so relieved that the episode on the subway hadn’t ruined my cool.

  For a moment, I let the whole scene replay in my mind. I remembered the deranged and disgusting behavior of the drunk who had harassed me on the train; his acrid stink, the lies he spewed, and the vile sight of his cock. I had been too mystified by his exposure to react, but it turned out that I hadn’t needed to. Out of nowhere, a stunning man had materialized and came to my defense. His gorgeous face, impeccable clothing, and ballsy handling of the situation had practically been super human. As the drunk had become violent, my mysterious benefactor knocked him out cold and whisked me off the train. The whole thing was almost like a scene from a romantic comedy, except that it had taken such disturbing twists along the way. That, and the fact that there had already been a woman traveling with my savior.

  She looked for the world like a movie star from the fifties, and I had felt like a mousy little child compared to her. Monica, as the man had called her, remained unimpressed by his valiant rescue. They bickered like an old married couple while I fled to get to my interview on time. Even up to the last moment, the man had helped me—summoning a cab when I proved too distraught to do it myself. Monica had called him Girard, a suitably elegant and refined name for what seemed to be a perfect specimen of a man.

  I pressed the button to call the elevator, my mind still caught up on this Girard character. Why had he been so willing and eager to come to my defense? While I was being harassed, not a single other passenger other than him had even looked up. They’d all kept their eyes locked on their phones or books, and pretended not to notice the fact that some horrible drunk was whipping his dick out in order to humiliate me. But Girard had leapt up straightaway, and truly saved me. It’s not as if he were trying to seduce me, not in front of his beautiful assistant. And he didn’t ask me for any kind of reward or even a thanks. He’d simply done what any brave and decent human being would have done. I remembered his slight but very sexy accent, and I wondered if kindness were easier to come by abroad.

  Maybe he really didn't have an ulterior motive after all. Maybe he simply saw a person in distress and did his part to help. I wished that I could have spoken with him for just a moment longer. It would have been nice to thank him. If I was honest with myself, I wanted to do a lot more than thank him. I imagined what it would be like to get to know the man who had rescued me. He could take me to all the best French restaurants in the city, the most exclusive cultural events...and with a body like that, he almost certainly would know his way around the sack. I blushed, thinking of him in a way that was so explicitly sexual. I was not the kind of girl who fantasized like that. I daydreamed about romance, sure, but never anything so erotic. I was painfully inexperienced with sex, and I never had the desire to gain more experience with someone I’d just met, just for the sake of it. How do French women ever get anything done? I thought to myself as the elevator door slid open.

  One other passenger stepped onto the elevator after I did, a man hovering around age fifty or so. He was a little heavy around the middle, and not exceptionally tall, but his face was much friendlier than I expected to see in such a corporate setting. I suppose I expected everyone in the building to look like they had just stepped out of an ad themselves, as silly as that was. The man riding up with me had a perpetual little half-smile on lips, like he’d just taken a sip of a very fine wine. His hair and surprisingly bush beard were flecked with gray, and his eyes were bright blue and very intelligent. He caught me observing him and smiled a bit wider. I returned his smile, trying to remain as confident as I had been the moment I walked into the building. I had to keep up my morale through the interview, after all. So much was hanging on that one short meeting.

  “Don’t see many smiles in this place,” the man remarked. “It’s nice to see a real one! Smiles are practically an endangered species in the workplace.”

  I laughed genuinely, feeling like I’d been let into a secret club. “I’m sure there are some to be found,” I replied. “Maybe you should keep one as a pet, so that you don’t forget what they look like.”

  “I think I already do!” he grinned.

  We laughed together, and I turned back toward the elevator doors. I didn’t want to take up his time with small talk, but he seemed to be in a chatty mood.

  “Are you new here?” he asked.

  “Oh, I’m not even technically here yet,” I answered, “I’m just interviewing for an internship.”

  “An internship?” he said, “Isn’t that just slave labor?”

  “Some places it is,” I said, “But I’m s
ure that’s not what it’s like here.”

  “What makes you say that?” the man asked.

  “I would just be really surprised, based on Corelli’s reputation,” I said.

  “Ah. What is Corelli’s reputation, do you think?”

  “Well...It’s the best,” I said simply, “There isn't another international marketing firm that rivals it.”

  The man smiled broadly, nodding his head. I had simply told the truth—I wasn’t aware of a single firm that could possibly compare to Corelli. But it definitely looked as though the comment had made his day.

  “What’s your name?” he asked me. “I completely forgot to ask.”

  “Oh,” I said, holding out my hand, “I’m Madison. Madison Cleary.”

  The man shook my hand firmly. “It’s nice to meet you, Ms. Cleary. I’m Joseph. Joseph Corelli.”

  It felt as though the bottom of the elevator had fallen out from under me. I started at him, my jaw hanging open. Could I truly be speaking with the man who had started Corelli from the ground up? My heart began to race, and I tried to remember if I had said anything silly or offensive. While sweat began to bead on my forehead, he let out a light chuckle.

  “Don’t worry. I’m really rather harmless, unless provoked.”

  “It really is a pleasure to meet you,” I said, the words falling out of my mouth. “I just can’t believe my luck! I would have thought that you teleported into the office, but here you are.”

  “Oh, no. I won’t have figured out teleporting for at least another year or two,” he said. The elevator slowed and came to a stop on the twenty third floor. The doors slid open, and Mr. Corelli stepped out into his kingdom. I scurried after, emboldened by having spoken with him. The office stretched out before us, and I felt like Cinderella at the ball. Everything was white and spotless, from the walls to the furniture, and even the technology. The whole place looked like something out of the Jetsons. I’d never seen a place that was so efficient and yet glamorous at the same time. I was glad to have dressed up a bit for the occasion, even if I was wearing black instead of white.

  “Good morning, Mr. Corelli!” said the young man sitting at the front desk. He looked for the world like a fashion model—you could have split a hair in those cheekbones. Corelli nodded and made his way into the office. After a few steps, he turned back to me and beckoned me forward. I stared dumbly at him for a moment and then began to follow. It seemed that he knew what was in store for me at Corelli much more than I did.

  We made our way through the gleaming white office, and I tried very hard not to trip on my own feet as we passed one high-tech wonder after another. Corelli turned down a long hallway lined with doors and strode down it. He came to stop in front of the farthest door and opened it without knocking. Corelli strode into the room as if he owned the place—which, of course, he did.

  “Mr. Corelli!” exclaimed a voice inside. “What are you doing here?”

  “I thought I’d sit in on the interview,” he answered. I stepped into the room after him and saw three very attractive people sitting behind a conference table, two men and a woman.

  “But, you’ve never sat in on an interview,” said the woman. “You didn’t even interview me!”

  “Well. Let’s just say I’ve taken a liking to Madison, here,” he said, taking a seat beside his employees. The three executive stared at me in wonder. I smiled gamely, but was honestly mystified. What had I said to win Mr. Corelli over? We’d just been joking around, trading pretty light banter. I took a seat across from the impressive foursome and braced myself for a good grilling.

  “Do you know why I like you so much Madison?” asked Corelli.

  “I can’t say that I could pinpoint it,” I replied, not wanting to sell myself short, but not wanting to be presumptuous either.

  “I like you because I can tell that you are utterly yourself,” he said. “You’re not trying to be anything or anyone that you’re not. And because you’re not constricting yourself that way, you can be at your very best. Very few people are able to be wholly themselves, I’ve found, but it’s an excellent advantage.”

  “Thank you very much,” I replied, stunned by his praise. A little bit of cordiality in the elevator could go a long way, apparently.

  “Do you all have questions for Madison?” Corelli asked the other employees.

  “We do,” said one, the older of the two men. “May we proceed?”

  “By all means, James” Corelli said, leaning back in his chair. “I want to hear more from Ms. Clearly, here.”

  “Certainly,” said the man called James. He turned to me with a very toothy smile. “Hello, Madison. We’re glad you could come in today.”

  “I’m very glad to be here,” I said.

  “You must have a lot of interviews for the summer,” he went on. “What other firms are you interviewing with?”

  “None,” I answered.

  “None?” the woman asked, surprised. “Most of our candidates have put applications in at a dozen firms.”

  “I’ve only ever been interested in interning at Corelli,” I said. “This really is the best international marketing firm there is, and at this stage of my life I want to be working with the best so that I can learn as much as possible.”

  “And you’re studying here in the city?” asked the younger man of the trio.

  “Yes,” I answered, “At NYU.”

  “Are you finding grad school to be rewarding?” asked the woman.

  “Absolutely,” I answered. “This is really the only thing that I want to be doing. I feel like I’m at the exact right place in my trajectory right now. It’s a good feeling.”

  “Why is international marketing the only thing you want to do?” asked James. “Why do you think you’re suited to it?”

  I took a minute to gather my thoughts. This seemed to be the question on which the whole interview hinged. “To me,” I began, “Marketing is about cooperation and connectedness. It’s a way of making things happen all over the world that will benefit everyone involved. The way that Corelli seems to operate, only the most positive collaborations take place, collaborations that help the world become a better place in some way or another. Even if it’s the simplest of things. I want to work in a place that deals in improvement, and innovation. I just think it would be the most exciting way to go through one’s professional life. And I also think that’s why I would be great at international marketing—I am always looking for ways to better myself and my situation. I did not grow up in a very positive environment, but I learned early on that my destiny was in my control, as long as I was enterprising enough to change my situation. I really do think that I am the best person for this internship, and I hope that you choose me to take it on.”

  There was silence in the room for a long moment after I finished speaking. I looked back at my interviewers, trying very hard to keep my breathing even. Finally, a huge smile broke out across Corelli’s face.

  “Thank you, Madison,” he said. “We’ll be in touch.”

  I remembered how to breathe and thanked them for their time, the world around me was a rush as the adrenaline surged through my body. As I made my way back to the ground floor and back out into the real world, I was satisfied knowing I had done the best I could possibly have done. The ball was in their court. I climbed back on the subway and headed downtown, eager to get home and relax. It wasn’t until I got onto my very street that I noticed I had a new voice mail. I must have missed a call while I was underground on the train. I brought my phone to my ear as the voice mail began to play.

  “Hello Ms. Cleary,” said a voice. It was the receptionist from Corelli. “We’re pleased to offer you the summer internship in Paris.”

  I didn’t hear the rest of the message—I was cheering too loudly. Every scrap of self-consciousness left me as I leapt into the air right there on the sidewalk, jumping and shouting in utter glee. I fumbled with my phone, nearly dropping it to smash on the sidewalk. My feet carried me up to my front
door, straight up the flights of stairs. I felt like I was walking on air the whole way.

  * * * * *

  Chapter Four

  * * * * *

  “I got it!” I screamed as I wrenched open the front door of my apartment. “I got it, I got it, I got it!”

  Dara’s tousled head poked around through the doorway of her bedroom. I’d clearly caught her in the midst of a post-coital nap. Her big drowsy eyes blinked at me, comprehension still a moment away. Ashlee jolted out of her room as well, looking far more alert than Dara. Her audition had her adrenaline as pumped up as mine.

  “What did you say?” she breathed, crossing her fingers.

  “I got the internship,” I repeated. I was surprised to find that my eyes had filled with happy tears. “I’m going to Paris!”

  My friends fell upon me in a wave of clamoring limbs and ecstatic cries. We threw our arms around each other, vibrating with joy, jumping and dancing and throwing our heads back in laughter. I was beside myself with excitement and gratitude. Not only had I just won the internship of a lifetime, I was lucky enough to get to celebrate it with the two best friends a girl could possibly ask for.

  “What’s going on?” said a voice from the hallway. I looked up and Kyle emerging from our bathroom.

  Three best friends, I amended in my thoughts.

  “Our little girl is going to Paris!” Ashlee squealed, wrapping her arms tightly around my torso.

  Kyle let out a wordless howl of delight and flew across the room to us. He snatched me up from the others and twirled me around in the air. I laughed with abandon, so touched by my friends’ happiness on my behalf.