by Carol Rose
“This way,” the doorman said, motioning the group toward the elevators. “Mr. Tucker’s apartment is on the eighth floor, number eight-zero-four. It’s to the left. He’s expecting you.”
Trailing after the others, Nicole got on the elevator, her exhilaration at having gotten into the building starting to fade. Public people seemed perpetually protective of their privacy and she hated having to invade Max Tucker’s this way. But she had no choice.
No one spoke as the elevator rose, the silence awkward. When the doors opened, they filed out. An older woman led the way, knocking loudly on the apartment door.
Within minutes, they were all inside, shuffling forward in unison as Maxwell Tucker briefly directed them to go in and sit down.
Nicole hunched her shoulders up and stared at the expensive oriental rug on the floor of his living room. Trying to keep behind the other job applicants, she shuffled further into the room and chose the seat most likely to be out of Tucker’s field of vision.
How exactly was she going to handle this? Should she wait until he finished interviewing the others and then just blurt out who she was? Throwing herself on his mercy didn’t sound very appealing…or effective.
Her stomach knotted itself around her breakfast and the word, “fool” kept flashing in front of her eyes. Yes, she’d gotten into the building, but how likely was Maxwell Tucker to listen to her when she was here under false pretenses? He’d be more likely than ever to call the police and have her carted away.
This was worse than facing a new group of surly high school students on the first day of school. Not that much worse, but still not fun.
In an effort to distract herself from the idiocy she’d just demonstrated by sneaking in, she covertly looked around. With Maxwell Tucker still out in the hallway talking to one of the three real job applicants, she had plenty of time to examine the room.
She’d never seen the inside of a New York upscale apartment outside of magazine spreads, but this one looked more formal than she’d expected. Stiff, plush upholstered chairs in mostly neutral colors sat at precise angles to bleached antique pieces. Here and there, gold, ornamental chairs were placed along with gold and black striped ottomans. It was a room straight out of those decorating magazine, all pretentious and fake-y. Did people really live in rooms like this?
The muscles at the back of her neck were starting to ache and she carefully unclenched her hands from around the chair’s arms. God, she wished she weren’t here. How could she have done such a crazy thing? Her fellow teachers back at Samson High School wouldn’t believe she could be this impulsive.
Damn, she prayed. Don’t let me make things worse. At that moment, she’d have preferred to be anywhere but here, but she couldn’t walk out without drawing attention to herself—the very thing she had to avoid.
“Yes, go on in and sit down with the others.” Max Tucker’s voice grew clearer as he followed the last job applicant into the room.
This was it, Nicole promised herself. No more lurking, no more waiting. When she got out of this insane situation, she’d go home…even if she had no chance to again convince Max Tucker to leave her father alone. This was so not her thing, doing a crazy stunt like this. Until now she’d been very straight-forward in trying to get him to listen.
Yes, she’d talked herself around situations! But those situations typically involved belligerent fifteen year-olds! Of course a teen with a knife could be an ugly thing, but still….
Please, please, please, don’t notice me! She shifted nervously.
Maxwell Tucker stood a few feet inside the door, his face no more inviting than the first time she’d seen him when she’d lurked outside the building. In black jeans and a thin knit sweater, he was more formally attired this time, though. The sleeves of his sweater pushed up over strong forearms, he stood surveying the applicants. Thankfully, only the edge of his gaze touched her.
He looked more annoyed than she would have expected from a man with so many blessings. In addition to his wealth and skill, he was blessed with a tall, fit body and thick, dark hair, cut close. He was a good-looking man, but his dark eyes held no satisfaction with much of anything at this moment.
He couldn’t be all bad. Not the man who’d written such incredible prose. He must have been having a bad day.
The man could sneer all he wanted, but he had to drop the lawsuit against her dad. One way or the other, she was getting him to listen to her long enough to realize that. She wasn’t going home without the signed release Claire suggested she get.
Mouth firm, Max Tucker held their attention for several long minutes before finally speaking. “Did the agency tell you all what this job entails?”
From where she sat, Nicole could see the other three women easily. Their ages ranged from twenty-two or three to somewhere in the mid-forties. Everything from “comfortable” to “sleek”. The thin, redhead on the far side of the room looked both self-assured and self-aware. For some reason, Nicole wondered if she were an actress seeking to avoid a waitressing job.
“The employment agency was very specific about the work,” an older woman said, a smile stretching her mouth wide. “I’m sure we all understand.”
The third woman nodded eagerly, but the actress-redhead just stared at Max Tucker with what Nicole was coming to recognize as a common New Yorker confidence tinged with contempt.
Max scanned them again, his glance thankfully not lingering on Nicole. For some reason, he seemed both bored and dismissive. “We’ll leave your ability to understand unchallenged for the moment. First, there are several items about the work environment you must know. I both live and work here in this co-op. You, however, if I decide to hire you, will confine yourself to your work area. No wandering around, if you please.”
By the very coolness of his tone, he seemed to convey their insignificance to him. His gaze skated over them as if he could barely be bothered to acknowledge their existence. If this was how he treated his assistants, it was no wonder the other woman left.
He went on. “No personal calls, no complaining about the working hours and, preferably, no personal conversations. I have a deadline to meet. You owe me no information about your lives and you can have little interest in mine. We’re here to work from open to close.”
“If you don’t mind my asking,” the redhead interrupted with no obvious discomfort, “when exactly would these working hours be?”
“I work from seven in the morning to seven at night—“
“Seven to seven!” the younger, non-actress applicant exclaimed.
“—but due to the asinine—“
He stopped, starting again with, “the typist I’m trying to replace, I’ll probably be working until nine or ten each evening.”
At this, even the older applicant looked startled, glancing over at the non-actress, who had gone from dismayed to obviously distressed.
Forgetting to keep her head down, Nicole glared at the back of his head. Sixteen hour days? The man was insane.
No wonder his last secretary had quit. This guy expected way too much.
CHAPTER TWO
On the far side of the room, the actress got up. “I think I’ll be going, thanks. I have other priorities besides this job.”
“Then you’re not the one for the job.” He sounded almost cordial as he stepped aside to allow her to proceed him out of the room.
They left a stricken silence behind as he let her out of the apartment. The younger woman looked scared and both applicants seemed seriously doubtful about a job that would take over their lives.
While Nicole couldn’t help disapproving of the actress’ disregard for job-seeking etiquette—you didn’t just get up and walk out of an interview!—she still understood the woman’s assessment of the job. Most people wouldn’t submit to those working hours.
No wonder he had staff problems. The man’s people skills were abysmal.
Shifting in her chair, she heard Maxwell Tucker’s footsteps as he crossed the hall, returning
to the room. Even though she sat to the side, her head down, she still couldn’t believe her good fortune in that he hadn’t noticed anything about her that made her seem unlike the other applicants.
Max Tucker closed the door and turned to face the remaining applicants. “If anyone else doesn’t feel like working for the exorbitant salary I’m offering, you may leave as well.”
The bite in his words was unmistakable.
The younger woman seemed to shrink a little, but she didn’t get up.
“May I see your resumes, assuming you have, in fact, had previous gainful employment?”
Did the man always use this cool sarcastic tone, Nicole wondered resentfully. She wasn’t looking for a job, but even if she were unemployed, she wouldn’t tolerate this. Unfortunately, he was in a position to make life difficult for her father. She had to deal with him.
With the ease of several years of teaching experience, she shifted into her assessment mode. In her line of work, she was faced daily with not only educating some pretty rough kids, but she also sought to bond with them enough to get them motivated to change their lives.
Something about Max Tucker’s ruthlessly walled-off emotions kept reminding her of her students. In school, she got through to young toughs everyday. The kids in her inner-city school faced tremendous social, emotional and physical hardships. She couldn’t help wondering what danger Max Tucker faced that had him so defensed.
“My resume. Of course.” The older applicant shuffled through her bag and produced a sheet of paper.
Sitting to the side of him, Nicole was in a position to observe Max Tucker. As he scanned the sheet of paper the older woman handed him, Nicole found herself sizing up the competition as if she were, in fact, seeking the job he offered.
Pretty slim pickings. The one woman was annoying and the other one too emotionally delicate.
When Max looked at the younger woman expectantly, she seemed to shrink further into herself. “I-I’m afraid…, I didn’t realize—The woman at the employment agency took mine. She said this was just a personal interview today.”
Max Tucker’s expressionless face chilled several more degrees. “In case I haven’t made myself clear, there will be nothing ‘personal’ between us. I’m not looking for a friend. I’m hiring an employee.”
Barely stifling the exclamation that rose to her lips, Nicole lifted her head to stare at him. Did this guy treat everyone with the same complete contempt? So what if these women weren’t great employee material? They still deserved some consideration.
The young job applicant stared at him with a stricken expression, the sheen of tears in her frightened eyes. “I didn’t bring a resume.”
“And you?” Maxwell Tucker asked, his gaze coming to rest on Nicole. “You didn’t bring a resume either?”
Her breath lodged in her constricted throat, Nicole shook her head in answer to his question.
A slight frown on his face, Tucker stared at her a moment, as if the sight of her triggered an elusive memory. Would he remember their very brief meeting two days ago in the hall outside this very apartment?
Nicole held her breath, praying against the inevitable. But after a moment, he glanced back down at the one resume in his hand, apparently unable to place her face.
In that moment, Nicole could only be grateful that he was the kind of person who tended to ignore his fellowman.
“I suppose I should have expected something of the kind,” Tucker told them, still looking at the older woman’s sheet of paper, boredom evident on his handsome face.
Nicole’s blood began to simmer. Just because Max Tucker was a famous, wealthy author didn’t give him the right to be such a bastard.
Still standing, he resumed scanning the older woman’s resume, his expression growing more distant. “You worked for a publishing house. It will be understood that I am not looking for unsolicited ‘editorial input.’ I have enough of that from copy editors.”
“Oh, no,” the older applicant hastened to assure him with a bright smile. “I understand completely. I’ve read some of your books. I know how geniuses are.”
Her laugh grated against the tension in the room. “In fact, my brother is an aspiring writer. Not on your level, of course, but he’s very good. He writes spy thrillers. You know, like John LeCarre? Anyway—“
Her gaze sharpened on Max Tucker’s increasingly sardonic facial expression. “I understand. I wouldn’t change a thing in your books.”
An edgy silence followed her eager assurance.
Seeming to dismiss her, Max Tucker glanced at the other woman and, briefly, at Nicole. “If you don’t have a resume, perhaps you can summarize your qualifications.”
Nicole drew in a tight breath in anticipation of the excruciatingly awkward moment ahead of her. On her job, she’d faced a knife-wielding kid who was high on crack, but, strangely, Max Tucker seemed even more unreachable. There was that elusive something in his expression that kept reminding her of her angrier, bad-ass students, a fragile kind of fear mixed with hostility in the back of their eyes.
For a second, Nicole toyed with the idea of…reaching Maxwell Tucker. He would definitely be a challenge.
The younger job applicant stumbled into speech. “I-I’ve done mostly word processing….”
Looking scared, she wilted into silence.
“Who have you worked for?”
“Well, Brad Smedford…and a mystery writer. I think her name was Ann James.” She faltered under the critical scrutiny of the man standing in front of her. “I’ve worked mostly for writers. I-I can’t remember all their names, right now.”
Max Tucker waited.
The older woman interrupted. “If you’ll glance at my resume,” she threw Nicole and the younger applicant a triumphant glance, “you’ll see that I’ve worked on Wall Street and for IBM, too.”
Her smile determined, she assured Max Tucker, “And I can get along with anyone.”
Max turned to look at her. “What…exactly…does that mean?”
The younger applicant stared fixedly at the floor and shivered.
“Well,” the older woman said, seeming to flounder for the first time, “I understand—genius has its quirks. A man with your talent—“
Her glance seemed to fawn over him.
“—doesn’t have to—doesn’t want to—that is to say—he shouldn’t have to worry about other people’s feelings— My brother has days when he’s really crabby.” Her raucous laughter rang out again. “It doesn’t mean anything.”
Nicole felt the urge to slap the woman. People’s feelings always mattered. And where did this woman get off, kissing up like that to Maxwell Tucker? He was probably loved hearing he could behave anyway he wanted.
Glancing over to see his reaction, Nicole was surprised to see scorn disturb his impassive features. But before she could draw any real conclusions, a stifled sound like a swallowed sob, drew her gaze back to the younger woman. The poor thing sat on the edge of her chair, gripping her purse as if she were preparing to bolt from the room. Job interviews were clearly not her thing.
“I’m very eager to work with you,” the older woman persisted, demonstrating all the sensitivity of a rhinoceros. “I could maybe help my brother. Seeing how you do things might give me some ideas—“
“I doubt that.” Max’s words were blunt. “In any case, I’m not here to further anyone else’s career. There’s more than enough dreck on the store shelves, as it is.”
“Well!” The older woman puffed up, finally insulted. “You’ve got no call to say—“
“But I can say anything I like. You just told me my ‘genius’ gives me the right.” A malicious smile coasted over his mouth.
He turned, gesturing toward the door. “You can go now. You aren’t the one for the job.“
Gasping at his blunt dismissal of the older applicant, the younger woman started to cry.
“Let’s not be hasty.” The older woman’s tone was now placating. “I was just trying to—“
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br /> “I don’t care what you’re trying to do. You are wasting my time. I have no interest in hiring you.” Tucker stood by the door, clearly immovable and, just as clearly, tired of the whole situation.
“Well!” Affronted, the older woman got up to go.
From the chair beside her, the younger woman rose, too. Nicole was surprised to see she was now openly weeping.
“Where are you going?” Maxwell Tucker asked the young woman abruptly.
“I’m sorry.” She gulped back a sob. “I’m just…not good…with hostility!”
Unconsciously, Nicole had risen too. She moved toward the weeping woman, holding out a tissue.
She could understand Max Tucker’s annoyance with her excessive timidity, but the woman’s obvious distress left Nicole with the urge to say something in her defense.
The woman might be overly-sensitive, but her emotions were genuine. With difficulty, Nicole repressed an urge to put a comforting arm around her.
“Hostility?” Max Tucker echoed, annoyance on his handsome features.
“You…,” she struggled to speak, “you’re so unfeeling!”
“My feelings are not the issue and I’m not here to flatter anyone,” Max Tucker said incisively. “This is a job interview.”
The older woman, pausing as she exited the room, turned and announced in a loud voice, “I can see the employment agency certainly didn’t exaggerate when they said you’re difficult to work with! No amount of money would be enough!”
She turned and swept out of the room.
The younger applicant, still sobbing into Nicole’s tissue, was understood to say she couldn’t stand hostility. “No one told me he was this difficult to work with! I can’t work surrounded by so much anger!”