by L. S. Scott
“Whoa, you alright,” a deep, raspy voice breathed in my ear, as he slowly released his grip and leaned to the side to get a look at my face.
“Yes, th, thank you,” I stuttered like an idiot as I struggled to regain my balance, teetering on one ridiculously high heel and trying to salvage a little dignity.
I purposefully avoided eye contact. My first glimpse of him came when he stepped through the oncoming foot traffic to retrieve my heel and bag. His black, tailored blazer accentuated his broad shoulders, and paired perfectly with his sharply pressed denim. When he turned to face me, eye contact was inescapable. He handed me the handbag and before I could say a word he knelt in front of me and took my ankle in his hand. I swallowed hard at the warmth of his palm on my stocking free skin and I’m not certain, but I think my back arched a little. Without hesitation, he gently brushed the bottom of my foot to clear away any debri and slipped the ruby red heel on over my toes. It was like I was in a fairy tale and boy was I glad I didn’t skimp on my pedicure.
He smiled up at me from his kneeling position, as he set my foot down softly. I was literally breathless. He had the whitest teeth I had ever seen and his skin was golden brown. Short wavy brown hair framed his hazel eyes that sparkled like a kaleidoscope. I had to stop myself from reaching out and running my fingers through it.
“I am so sorry,” I apologized, fighting through my humiliation.
“Don’t be. I’m glad I could help.” The gorgeous man stood and towered above me even though I was pushing 5’10” in my heels.
His ringing cell phone intruded on our awkward silence. He pulled the phone out and checked the number. “I’m sorry, I have to take this. Are you sure you’re ok?”
“Yes I’m fine; I have to be going too. Thank you,” I replied, both relieved and disappointed.
He nodded and answered his phone. In the shiny windows of the building I could see that he was still looking at me as I walked away. It was a small but needed ego boost after my display of gaucherie.
The lobby of the building mirrored the style of its exterior, all glass and steel and shiny, yet elegant. I tried not to look too enamored as I admired it. I approached the large curved reception desk manned by a busty redhead in a plum colored tank dress that was belted at her tiny waist. I suddenly felt overdressed and mammarily inadequate. The small name plate on the desktop read, Melanie Harp.
Her smile was robotic as she acknowledged my presence, “Good morning, how can help you?”
“Natalie Mills, I have a 10 o’clock appointment.”
“With,” the receptionist quizzed with raised brows.
“Oh, with Ms. Norman. I’m interviewing for the Flynn Resorts internship,” I clarified.
Melanie pecked at her keyboard for a second before responding,
“Of course. That will be the top floor. Here is your pass. Ms. Norman’s receptionist will greet you when you get off the elevator.”
She slid the pass to me and pointed a long, perfectly manicured finger toward the elevator. I took it and felt somewhat self-conscious of my own nails, fearing that my discount manicure from Nancy’s Nails was not up to par.
I shrugged it off. “Thank you Miss Harp, have a wonderful day,” I said with country sweetness dripping from my voice. Pretty girls were always mean to other pretty girls, but some responded to sweet submission.
“You too, Miss Mills.” Her smile softened and became more natural. Like a fly to honey.
The elevator filled quickly with well-dressed men and women and the smell of expensive cologne and perfume. Several got off the elevator on the tenth floor, a couple on the fifteenth, three on the eighteenth and only one, besides me, was riding all the way to the top, the twenty-fifth floor.
I squared my shoulders and stood straight, trying my best to look like I belonged amongst the high powered executives. The temptation to look over at the man who reached out and pressed the number twenty-five, was hard to resist. I wondered if he was interviewing for the internship too. When I finally gave in and snuck a peak, it was clear that he was no intern.
His suit was perfectly cut and fit him as if it was just sewn on his body that morning. His short sandy blonde hair was messily combed to one side and held in place with just the tiniest bit of gel. I found myself wondering where the tree was that produced these beautiful men. I had only ever met one man as beautiful in my life, but here they were around every corner.
He didn’t carry a briefcase, like the rest, only a phone that he leisurely scrolled through with his thumb while his other hand hid casually in his pants pocket. When the last of the riders exited and we were left alone, he finally looked up from his iPhone. I felt his gaze and shot him a quick smile, unsure of what to say.
“You headed to the top,” he was surprisingly casual, as if he was familiar with me.
My very ambitious inner self spoke before I had a chance to think, “I hope so.” I tried to appear confident but not cocky as I looked at him.
His intense blue eyes narrowed slightly and his look was serious for a split second before the corners of his mouth turned up in a sexy grin. I blushed, at the improper thoughts in my head. He smirked quietly but did not respond. The ding of the elevator was a relief as it opened on the top floor. Without a word the man held out his hand and bowed his head slightly, the universal sign for ladies first. I nodded and politely thanked him as I exited, cringing a little at the twang of my southern accent. No amount of practice can undo a lifetime of conditioning.
The man hung a sharp left and strolled down the hall. I made a bee line for the reception desk. Another pretty young lady sat behind it. Blonde, curvy, perfectly groomed, her name plate read, Tara Neal. I showed my pass as I introduce myself and stated my business.
“Yes Miss Mills, I will let Ms. Norman know that you have arrived. You can have a seat in the waiting area to the right and I will call you when they are ready for you,” receptionist Tara said, smiling sweetly.
Her demeanor was much warmer than receptionist Melanie and I wondered if it was because she was higher on the receptionist totem pole, because she had to deal with less crap or if she was just generally a friendlier person.
“Um, they,” I repeated when the use of the plural pronoun registered.
“Yes, I believe Mr. Flynn will also be present for the intern interviews this morning.”
“Randall Flynn?” I was stunned to the point of mild nausea.
“No, Connor Flynn,” Tara clarified.
I swallowed hard against the butterflies flip flopping in my stomach. I had spoken with Ms. Norman over the phone, during two separate phone interviews and was fully expecting this final interview to be with her alone, hence the high degree of confidence I arrived with. I had not expected to meet Connor Flynn during the interview, or ever really. I was well aware that the resorts had recently been turned over to him, so his father could focus his attention on other business ventures, but I honestly never imagined that he would be involved in the choosing of an intern. Talk about micro management.
I took a deep breath and exhaled slowly through pursed lips as I turned and made my way to the waiting area. There were brand new magazines spread neatly across the round glass top table to the side of the plush, white leather chair. The waiting room furniture was nicer than any furniture my family ever owned. I opted to forgo the magazines and just sit quietly trying to pull myself together. The last thing I needed was another debacle like the one on the street.
I waited for fifteen minutes and noticed that there were no other prospective interns waiting with me, nor did any seem to be leaving. Tara rounded the corner to alert me, “Miss Mills, they are ready. If you will follow me,” she requested politely.
I smiled nervously and rose. I straightened my clothing, squared my shoulders and complied. You got this, I repeated to myself, and as I followed Tara down the long hall I began to regain my swagger.
We approached an open office door and I could see the stunning view through the wall of windows on t
he opposite side of the room. Pleasant conversation bled into the hall and helped to put me at ease.
Tara stepped inside the door and introduced me, “Ms. Norman, Mr. Flynn, this is Natalie Mills, here for the 10 o’clock.”
Ms. Norman stood from the corner of the desk where she had been sitting, talking to Mr. Flynn, who sat with his back to the door. I focused on her familiar voice as she approached with an out stretched hand to greet me.
“Lovely to finally meet you Miss Mills.”
We met in the middle of the room and exchanged a firm handshake, business practice 101. The man rose and turned as she introduced him.
“I would like for you to meet Mr. Flynn,” she said as she placed her hand on his shoulder.
Mr. Flynn turned and his blue eyes peered knowingly into mine. My breath caught in my throat. And wouldn’t you know it, elevator hottie was Connor Flynn. He extended his hand and I reciprocated, thankful that at least my reflexes were responding even if my brain was not. In spite of the size and obvious strength of his hand, I noticed his touch was even gentler than Ms. Norman’s.
“It is nice to meet you Miss Mills. Karen has told me so much about you.” He was mercifully giving me the opportunity to get my bearings.
“It is very nice to meet you Mr. Flynn. I am absolutely honored that you would take the time to meet with me today,” I said, trying not to be distracted by the extended hand shake as he cradled my hand in his.
“Please, have a seat,” he instructed, motioning toward one of the chairs in front of the desk, finally releasing his hold on my hand.
I sat in the chair opposite the one he had occupied, expecting him to return to his seat. Instead he rounded the desk behind Ms. Norman. As she took her seat in the high back chair, he leaned confidently against the low profile, wall to wall bookcase that ran beneath the windows. I couldn’t decide which view was more stunning. With his arms folded across his chest and his ankles crossed, he stood quietly, watching and listening as Ms. Norman conducted the interview.
I answered each question and gave my spill about what I could bring to the table and why I was the one for the job. All the while, Mr. Flynn observed stoically. I wondered if he knew how disconcerting he was, just standing and staring and decided that he probably did. I politely shifted my eyes from Ms. Norman to him and back to Ms. Norman, maintaining that all important eye contact as I spoke, despite the fact the he made my belly do flip flops and if I were being perfectly honest, that was not the only part of my body he affected. And after a six plus year dry spell, that was very distracting.
When Ms. Norman completed her redundant series of interview questions, she turned to him, “Well, Mr. Flynn, do you have any questions, anything you would like to know that we did not cover?”
He raised his hand to his face and ran his thumb across his bottom lip. The action brought attention to the perfection of his mouth and the familiarity of the action caused my cheeks to turn a light shade of pink. I caught that his eyes narrowed slightly at my reaction and he smiled, he did know exactly what he was doing.
“No, I think I’ve seen enough,” he said, his tone almost dismissive.
I maintained my composure even as my heart sank. I felt certain his response did not bode well for me and I would be waiting tables by the end of the week. I waited for Ms. Norman to stand, then followed suit, extending my hand and flashing my best smile. I hoped it came across as sincere and didn’t convey the, eat shit you taunting, beautiful, rich bastard, sentiment in my head.
“It was an honor to meet you both,” I said humbly.
Flynn held his spot, eyeing me with a blank expression. I was sure that he played a lot of poker and was probably damn good at it. I turned and moved across the room to the door with my chin forced high, refusing to tuck my tail. Before my hand reached the knob, long fingers grasp it and pulled it open. I swiveled my head to find Mr. Flynn and his charming dimple shining down at me.
“The pleasure was all mine,” he replied pleasantly.
I tried hard to conceal my look of satisfaction and forced a polite smile, but it was impossible to stop the flush on my cheeks. The door clicked behind me as I walked down the long corridor toward the reception desk. In my head I was already working on plan B. I needed to find an affordable hotel and start combing the classifieds. Tomorrow, I would hit the pavement early in the morning.
I smiled at Tara the receptionist, “Have a good day,” I said as I passed, heading for the elevator.
“You too Miss Mills,” she replied, with her ever present politeness, over the buzz of the multi-line phone on her desk.
I waited patiently for the elevator to make its climb to the top floor, hoping it would arrive quickly and be empty, giving me sanctuary in case my façade cracked under the growing weight of disappointment.
“Miss Mills,” Tara’s voice called out with some urgency as she rounded the corner of her desk, her high heels clicking rapidly on the cold marble floor.
I cut my eyes in her direction and took inventory of myself, sure that I had probably left something behind.
“Yes,” I answered, hesitantly.
A huge smile beamed from the receptionist’s face as she reached my side.
“I have been asked to bring you back to the waiting area.”
I wasn’t sure how to respond, shock and confusion consumed my mind and my heart started to pound. I managed a nod and willed my feet to move in Tara’s direction.
“Please make yourself comfortable, would you like a beverage,” she offered.
“Oh, no thank you, I’m fine,” I responded.
I watched Tara disappear down the hall and instantly wished I would have asked for water. My mouth was as dry as a bean field in August and I could hardly swallow. I waited. The sound of the second hand ticking from the clock on the wall seemed to get louder with every passing second. Soon it turned into a pounding in my head, every tick, tick, tick, tick. It was almost twenty minutes, before she returned and rescued me.
“Ok, Miss Mills, if you will follow me to the conference room,” she hailed, ignoring my obvious distress.
“Tara, what is this about,” I croaked out.
“Ms. Norman would like to speak with you again, in the conference room.” Tara was being intentionally vague.
A fourth interview, I thought that could only be a good sign. If Mr. Flynn wasn’t going to be present maybe I could gain some ground with Ms. Norman. I entered the conference room where Ms. Norman was waiting. She too was very attractive. Her tall, slender frame was dressed in a form fitting cream tank dress with a leopard print scarf that matched her designer heels. Her blond hair was fashioned in a jaw length bob, and though she appeared to be in her mid-forties, her skin was flawless. She smiled as I entered the room.
“Please have a seat Miss Mills.”
I returned the smile and sat at the corner chair of the long mahogany conference table next to where she was seated at the head. There was a manila file folder sitting on the table in front of her with the word INTERNSHIP printed neatly on the front. My heart skipped a beat.
Ms. Norman started speaking immediately, “Well Miss Mills let me start of by saying,” she paused, “Congratulations! You have been selected for the Flynn Resorts internship.”
I was speechless. My hand trembled with excitement as I put my fingers to my lips. I was caught between laughing and crying and not sure which I wanted to do first. I had hoped if I found myself in this situation I would be able to maintain some professionalism. Like Bear Bryant said, ‘act like you’ve been there before.’ I took a deep breath and swallowed the lump in my throat and chased it with a sip of the ice water that was sitting on the table in front of me, never so glad in my entire life for a drink of water.
“Thank you so much Ms. Norman. I am honored and completely shocked,” I said honestly.
“You should not be shocked Miss Mills. You are an impressive young lady. You sure made an impression on Mr. Flynn.”
My cheeks flushed again at
the mere mention of his name, “I find that hard to believe, but thank you.”
“Let’s get to it, shall we,” Ms. Norman said and opened the folder.
She explained the details of the position, a six month internship, six weeks of which would be spent working in housekeeping, restaurant, and front desk. At the end of the six weeks an evaluation would be given and I would begin management training, considering all went well.
“Do you have any questions Miss Mills?”
“No,” I answered as I anxiously waited for her to continue.
“Ok. You will also be given a company provided cell phone and a suite to stay in at the hotel. It is a small, lower level room, nothing too fancy. But it is nicer than any apartment you would be able to afford and most certainly more secure.”
I sat gaping and Ms. Norman smiled as she reached out and placed her hand across my wrist. “Are you ok dear?”
“Yes ma’am. I’m just surprised. I didn’t realize that accommodations would be provided. I expected to be apartment hunting this week.”
“Well, it wasn’t, but Mr. Flynn, Connor, recently decided it should be. Of course you have the option of getting your own place if you so desire.”
“No, this is amazing. I definitely prefer this to an apartment. Las Vegas is a bit of a culture shock for me, I have to admit. This will be a big help.”
“Good, now if you will fill out this paper work and sign, I will send you over.”
Ms. Norman slid the folder across the table and left me to the task. I filled out the stack of forms; tax, confidentiality, non-compete, etc. and provided my license and social security card for Tara to photo copy.
When all the forms were complete, I closed the folder and waited, sipping the cold water. A million thoughts ran through my mind. I had done it. I planned, I worked hard and I achieved my goal. Now I would have to set some new ones. I couldn’t wait to call Jake and Tiffany, the only family I had. He begged me to move to Texas when our mother passed away during my freshman year of college, but I refused, hell bent on blazing my own trail.