The waiting room was crowded. Mia Eaton wasn’t sure where to sit. She didn’t really want to get into anyone else’s personal space, but she didn’t have much of a choice. The receptionist barked at her, “I said you can take a seat.”
Mia turned and smiled at her, having heard her the first time, but still pondering where to sit. Finally, she decided to take the chair between a large busted blonde and an older brunette who looked as nervous as Mia felt. It was a tight squeeze because the chairs were so close together. With her small build, it was easy to wedge her way in, but it was still uncomfortable. She sat with her legs squeezed together, her meager resume clutched tightly within the leather binder she’d borrowed from her neighbor, praying one of the girls sitting next to her was called back soon.
“Linda McKay!” a short woman with a severe haircut shouted from the door next to the receptionist. An attractive redhead sitting across the room stood up and walked to the door her head held high as if she had plenty of experience applying for secretarial positions and knew exactly what to expect. Mia sucked in air. She did not.
In fact, she’d never had any sort of secretarial job before at all. She’d dropped out of college after finishing her sophomore year to take care of her sick mother. She’d had to support both of them, too, and she’d done that by working as a cashier at a gas station near their home in a suburb of Chicago. But now that her mother had passed away, and Mia had sold everything in order to afford the first few months of rent on a small apartment, she knew it was now or never.
She had been on a few interviews but not for secretarial positions. Just a sales and a custodial position she almost hoped she didn’t get. She knew she wouldn’t be able to sell water to a man dying in the dessert, and she wouldn’t want to clean up after the residents in the nursing home either. No, as badly as she needed a job, she sort of hoped it wouldn’t be any of those.
Secretarial work seemed easy enough. She’d been a marketing major in college, before she’d been forced to drop out. She’d done well in her classes, so when she’d seen there was a secretarial opening at Whitaker and Whitaker Marketing Firm, she’d called right away. That was yesterday. They’d told her to be there at 3:00 today, and she’d arrived at 2:45. As many people as there were in the waiting room, she wondered how long it might take. Apparently, she hadn’t been the only one told to be there at that specific time.
It didn’t take long for Linda McKay to come back out. She didn’t look nearly as confident walking back this way as she had when she was headed in. A few seconds later, the severe woman was back. “Bridgette Duncan!” she yelled.
The girl a few chairs down from Mia stood. She was wearing a very short skirt, and the top three buttons of her blouse were unbuttoned. She had on heels that had to be at least six inches high and pencil thin.
She didn’t even make it over to the door before the woman looked her up and down and said, “No.”
Bridgette stood there for a second, as if she couldn’t quite believe her ears, but then she turned and slunk away. The woman shut the door, and Mia sucked in air, wondering what the woman done wrong. Had it been the outfit or something else?
Mia definitely wasn’t wearing an outfit like that, though her clothes were nothing to be proud of. The beige skirt had been her mother’s, and it was a size or two too big. Mia had safety pinned it earlier that morning when she’d left her apartment. It seemed to be holding up even though she’d spent a great deal of time at a coffeeshop trying to find other places to apply. The white button down shirt she wore was her own, but she’d had it for a few years, and it was a little stretched. Still, she thought she looked nice. She’d touched up her makeup and brushed out her long black hair before she rode up to the sixty-ninth floor on the elevator.
“Sandy Wilcox!” the woman shouted, the door hardly open this time.
The blonde next to Mia got up, giving her a small amount of room for a moment, but then another girl walked in, checked with reception, and came to sit next to Mia, causing her to tense up again.
A few people were staring at their phones, but Mia was too nervous to let go of her binder. Her bag was by her feet, and all she could think about was the worn spot on the leather toward the zipper. She almost didn’t realize her name was being called until the woman said it again. “Hello? Mia Eaton? Anyone?”
“So sorry,” Mia said, shaking her head as she grabbed her belongings and stood, almost dropping her binder. She pulled her purse over her arm and tucked the binder under her arm and approached the door, certain she was about to be sent out the door like that poor woman in the stilettos.
Severe Haircut looked her up and down, huffed, and gestured for her to follow behind.
Mia took a deep breath and went through the door, praying she hadn’t already ruined her chances before she even got to the interview.
“My name is Veronica Smithers. I’m Mr. Whitaker’s personal assistant. I do most everything for him. It is important that whomever fills this position realizes that it isn’t just about answering phones and sending correspondence. You may be asked to perform any sort of task throughout the day, some you could easily think of, such as making coffee or running to the nearest coffeeshop. Others may never cross your mind until the question is raised.” Veronica turned and looked at her, and Mia nodded, feeling pricks of ice radiate through her veins as she attempted to decipher what that might mean. They were walking through a vast space of cubicles and offices with people working in groups, pairs, and all alone, but Mia was struggling to keep up with Veronica and hardly had a chance to look around her. Eventually, they reached a small office, and Veronica walked in, stepping behind an organized desk with a huge stack of papers on it. She gestured for Mia to take a seat, which sh
“Can I help you?” Mia knew she was staring, that the man with the gorgeous blue eyes was speaking to her, that she’d looked up after the collision but hadn’t backed away, so the foot or so between them was due to him retreating while she still hadn’t found her voice or her ability to move. “Are you lost?” “Uh… yeah,” she finally managed, snapping out of it. She took a giant step backward and ran her hand through her hair. It happened to be the hand her purse was swung over, so when she did that, it swung back and forth violently before falling off of her shoulder. She caught it on her wrist momentarily, but then it fell to the floor. “Dang it!” “Let me get that for you,” he said, stooping to get it, but by then, Mia had already gone to retrieve it herself. She hit her head on his shoulder hard. “Oh, God. Are you okay?” Wincing, Mia rubbed her head. How strong was this man that hitting her head on his shoulder was like ramming
Walking into his brother’s office, Beau Whitaker waited for Sam to get off of the phone before he said anything at all. When Sam finally hung up and looked up at him, Beau wasn’t even sure where to begin. He wanted to seem nonchalant, but the girl he’d met in the hallway—Mia—was so beautiful, so intriguing, he wanted to make sure Sam was aware that Beau wouldn’t mind it if he hired her as his new secretary. In fact, if he had any say in it at all, Mia already had the job. “What’s up, little brother?” Sam asked, making a note on a sticky before attaching it to a file and moving it across his desk. “Need something?” Beau snickered. He didn’t come into Sam’s office often, unless he needed something. There was usually no need to. Sam handled new accounts; Beau handled existing accounts. If they ever needed to meet, their offices had an adjoining conference room where they could discuss whatever they needed to. The view out the floor to ceiling windows o
Mia had her Chromebook open on her lap as she looked through job postings. After the disaster a few hours ago, it was clear to her that she couldn’t let up on the job hunt. The Chromebook was old and didn’t stay connected to the Wi-Fi she was “borrowing” from her neighbor very well, but it was better than looking through the newspaper, which she also did on a regular basis.She was just contemplating contacting a used car dealership, wondering if she could ever really sell cars, when her cell phone rang.Picking it up, she studied the number. It wasn’t familiar to her, and there was no name to let her know who it might be, but she had to answer anyway. It could be one of the other places she’d recently applied to. “Hello?”“May I speak to Mia Eaton, please?”The voice sounded vaguely familiar. It was a middle-aged woman. “This is she.”“Hello, Ms. Eaton. This is Veronica Smithy from Whitaker and Whitaker.”A lump immediately formed in Mia’s throat as she considered she might’ve actual
Mia decided to treat herself to some Chinese takeout since she’d gotten the job and could theoretically afford it. Eating out was something she rarely did since she was on a tight budget, but under the circumstances, a little fun couldn’t hurt, could it? When the doorbell rang, she assumed it was the delivery guy with her orange chicken, but when she pulled open the door, she saw a courier standing there. “Hey. You Mia Eaton?” “Yeah….” He shoved a thick manila envelope her direction and then a clipboard. “Sign here.” Pulling her eyes away from the agitated expression on his face, she scrawled her name across the line, wondering what it was about life in general that had this guy so put out. “Thanks,” she said clipping his pen back on. “Yep.” He turned and headed back toward the stairs, leaving Mia wishing she could do something to make him have a better day. It was too bad that some people were never happy when there was so m
The mirror didn’t lie. Mia checked the length of her skirt one more time and made sure the seam was where it was supposed to be. She’d bought a full-length mirror when she’d gone shopping on Saturday to make sure she fit the specifications of her contract. She was wearing a black pencil-skirt that hit just above her knee, but with the slit in the back significantly higher, she felt slightly exposed. It wasn’t obscene by any means, nothing like that woman had worn to the interview, but it wasn’t something Mia would usually wear. She also had on a white button-down shirt. The top three buttons were undone, as her contracted said they must be, which meant one could see her lacy white bra at certain angles. She wasn’t sure what to think about that. Would everyone think she was some sort of slut? Her heels weren’t that high, but they were strappy, black, sexy and shiny. Her earrings were simple, as also mandated, and she had her hair up in a bun—but not a severe on
Mia followed Veronica through the maze, trying her best to keep track of the twists and turns this time so that she didn’t get lost on her way back to her assigned area. Eventually, they reached a door with a touchpad next to it where she would enter a code. “This is your office. Your code has already been created for you. I’ll show you how to change it some other time, but for now, it’s 8236.” Veronica punched it in, and the door beeped, glowed green, and she was able to turn the knob. Mia followed her into a decent reception area. She was surprised she’d have so much room. There was a desk with a bookshelf behind it, as well as a few chairs sitting across the room against the wall. The view out the window was spectacular. A few plants and some nice paintings and other décor decorated the area. “You’ll be able to change any of this if you want to.” Veronica gestured at the paintings and other decorations. “It’s lovely,” Mia replied, taking it all i
Mr. Whitaker was the sort of man who commanded the room without saying a word. Sitting behind his desk, his face freshly shaven, his dark hair perfectly styled, he seemed to fill up every space in the large room without opening his mouth, taking all of the oxygen away from Mia as she stared at him from the entryway.She’d remembered to knock—that was something. He couldn’t be angry at her for that. So why was he staring at her with such a narrowed gaze? Mia cleared her throat and said, “You wanted to see me, sure? I’m Mia. The new secretary.” She wasn’t even sure if he had had a say in hiring her. She hoped he had. It would be odd if he didn’t even know he had a new secretary.Sam leaned back in his chair and yanked on his royal blue tie, though it didn’t seem to loosen any. “I know who you are, Mia. Come here, please.”Mia came over, not sure what she should do when she got there. Two chairs sat on the side of the table closer to where she was standing, but he hadn’t mentioned sittin