Doing Great, Thanks To You.

"You are all killing yourselves for a chance to become his personal secretary." Her words made me raise my brows slightly.

"Please don’t misunderstand. . ." She rushes to explain what she had meant. "He is so hot! He is very successful—"

"Quit it Kimberly. She does not need all that info." The receptionist lady irritatingly cuts in. Her eyes briefly glances at me before dropping to her monitor.

"She already knows, and that is why she’s dressed like that. She wants to up her chances of getting selected.

But too bad it won’t help." She adds in a tone full of disdain. I am suddenly reminded of a movie series I watched whereby the female lead has a stepsister who is extremely jealous of her.

Her character wasn’t given a single villain arc like most movies that centers on stepsister plot. 𝒇𝙧𝙚𝓮𝔀𝓮𝒃𝙣𝓸𝒗𝒆𝒍.𝙘𝒐𝒎

Her character amuses viewers by embarrassing herself whenever she devises plans to take her sister down. I smile again because this girl’s behavior amuses me rather than annoy me. If you don’t dress up nicely, they’d think you have a bad fashion sense. If you dress, they’d think you’re trying too hard to impress.

Should I have shown up in rags? Does she think I am thrilled to be here?

She thinks this is something enough? This is nothing and is beyond silly compared to the ones I have endured. She raises her eyebrow, surprised at my calm demeanor. If I am to open my mouth and reply her, it would be a disaster because I would pour out all of my anger towards

Mackie on her. I calmly ask her which floor the damn interview is taking place at? I was blown away when she asks me to take the elevator up to the thirtieth floor. That is where the jerk’s office is apparently. How could someone be so high up the ground? I wonder as I drag my legs into an elevator. But then again, he likes to trample on others and feel above. I’m sure he takes there like his kingdom. The girl named Kimberly rides the same elevator with me and continues to talk my ears off. I have encountered a second Laurel. I start to pay attention when she says that no secretary lasts with the president.

Two weeks. A month at most.

"Why is that? Does he have a bad personality or something?" I ask her. Of course Calyx Lamont’s personality isn’t just normal bad. It is sewer bad. I need to suss out from this talker how terrible he is now. Has he toned it down, or is it worse? She gets visibly glad that I am showing interest in her gossip. She eagerly answers. "It is not a bad personality. He is just fastidious. He expects nothing short of perfection and professionalism from the people who work with him."

"So his secretaries resign because they can’t put up with him?" I ask. "No, he fires them. Like I said, he is fastidious. One tiny mistake is enough to be fired. He is handsome, but terrible at tolerance."

"I completely agree." I mutter under my breath. "What was that?"

"Oh, it’s nothing. I was just speaking to myself."

"Right. Please don’t think too much of my talkativeness. I’m still trying to control it."

"No. it’s fine. It’s always nice to have someone who would tell you a little bit of information when you get to a new place." I respond.

"Exactly. I would have given you tips on how to survive him if only you had already been employed and working. Too bad. But I hope you do get selected." What’s with that pity expression she just gave me? I myself do not want to be employed here. It will both be a blessing whether or not I get it. I’m just here for tryings sake. The elevator dings as it arrives on the 28th floor. "Oh. My stop is here. I’m Kimberly by the way. Nice to meet you." She says as she hurries out.

"It’s nice to meet you too." My smile falls when the door closes. I blow out an angry breath. Soon I’m on the 30th floor. This time, someone comes to me. A not-so-tall man who seems like he is in his early or late twenties. He is immaculately dressed in a charcoal custom design suit. "You are Miss Gweneth Calloway, right?"

"Yes that’s me." I suddenly summon confidence and answer in a not so low, confident tone.

"Right this way please." He leads me to the executive lobby where they were dozens of other ladies that applied for the secretary position. They are all beautiful and sophisticated looking. That woman was right.

It does look like a fashion show screening in here. The girls loook models too. There is no one who isn’t looking gorgeous.

Makes me wonder why they are here applying for a secretary job instead of being models killing it on a fashion runway?

Thank goodness that Annie had put it in me to dress like this.

If I had gone with mine own wardrobe idea I would have been greatly intimidated and seem outright lower class to these girls. I find a space on a the leather chair and sit down.

Crossing my legs and waiting for my turn. Two girls seated on my right side were shamelessly going on about how they would get to meet him in person. "Even If I don’t get to be his personal secretary, I will not be too sad because seeing him is already huge in it’s own."

"Exactly! I still cannot believe we are minutes away from meeting him!" The other gushes. "Me too!"

They are like fan girls for Justin Bieber.

And it wasn’t just them.

Three others were reapplying powder makeup on their faces.

It is more like a contest in the imperial times where an emperor is to select a bride rather than a job interview.

"Hey." Someone taps me from my left. I look at her.

She is holding two lipsticks in each of her hands. She asks, "Can you please point out which color would suit my lips and face best?" She puckers her lips, holding the two lipstick in front of me to choose from.

Coral pink and red. I begrudgingly obliged and picked the red one not paying attention to whether or not it would really suit her. This is the definition of trying hard.

The silly thing about what they are doing is the fact that I’m here among them. Guess what? We are all numbered, and I am number 45—the last person. No other person has come after I did. I was naturally and fashionably late. We are being called into a large double door one by one. I thought it would be a long while until it gets to my turn. They were on number 12 when I came. But guess what now? It’s on applicant number 39. Some girls did not stay up to five minutes before leaving with sour faces.

Some are intensified with puffy red eyes. The uncomfortable feelings in me grew. It will soon be my turn. I’m going to see him face to face again. Unfavorably. My turn came even more sooner than expected. I was ushered in by the same man who had received me when I arrived here. My heart is racing. I hold unto the strap handle of my handbag tightly. The first thing I see is the exquisite leather furnitures in the sitting area. I raise my head and let my gaze wander around the absurdly large office. It is breathtaking and sophisticated. Taking in the art paintings on the walls as well as the floor to ceiling window or wall which allowed in the mild morning sunlight. And lastly, the desk in front of it. More importantly, the person sitting behind it. I lock eyes with the devil sitting relaxed on a high backed chair. Memories zaps through my mind but I force my eyes to stay on his unreal, piercing ones and not look away.

"To what may I owe this unexpected reunion to, Calloway?" He asks in a self-satisfied tone. "This isn’t a reunion, Lamont." I say icily as I walk forward to him. I have no choice but to summon confidence because I don’t want the version of me he broke to be seen by him. I push it far back into the dark place in my mind.

"It is. How long has it been? Nine years and six months since you disappeared?"

"Why? Did losing your plaything hurt your ego?" I stopped right in front of his desk. Staring down at him. I still feel like something that has been broken. But I will not come off as weak as I was then. "A little." He leans forward, resting his elbows on top of his desk. He asks, "How have you been?"

"Thanks to you, I am doing very great." I sarcastically reply.