Jamie’s got the kind of A-list good looks that the camera adores. If the industry hadn’t chewed her up and spit her out, I really think she could have made it as an actress. Fortunately, she got over the acting thing quickly, and she discovered she loves journalism. Especially if it involves reporting about Hollywood. But the fact that she loves it means she has something to lose.
“I know, right? Totally amazing. And I didn’t even ask for this. I figured I had no chance—I mean, who starts with the red carpet? But they just plucked me out of the massive pile of desperation, dreams, and sweat.”
I laugh. “I think they plucked you from a pile of talent.”
“Pfft. You’re just saying that because you’re my best friend.”
“Absolutely,” I say deadpan. “You really suck at your job, and I’m just being supportive by lying to you.”
“Bitch.”
“Love you, too. And, James? Congratulations.”
“Thanks.” I can practically hear the grin in her voice. “Okay, I should let you prep. When’s your interview, anyway?”
“I’m in the car on my way there right now.”
“Oh, shit. I didn’t mean to interrupt you. Good luck. Are you pumped up? ’Cause I can pump you up. I mean, come on. High school valedictorian. Double major in electrical engineering and computer science. Four-time recipient of the Stark International Science Fellowship. CEO of Fairchild Development. Designer and engineer of over two dozen web and mobile apps. Amateur photographer, superior poker player, and all around awesome best friend.” She’s rattled all of that off at the speed of light, and now she draws a deep breath. “Whew! Did I miss anything?”
I can barely talk, I’m laughing so hard. “You freak. Do you have my resume in front of you?”
“Don’t be silly.” Her voice takes on an unnaturally high pitch, and I assume she’s still teasing me. “Why would I have your resume in front of me? You’re my BFF,” she says, now sounding much more normal. “Of course, I know your resume. I sleep with it by my bedside and pay homage to it every time I remember how much better your college grades were than mine.”
“I love you, James.”
“Back at you, Nicholas. Good luck, okay?”
“Thanks.” I frown, still thinking of that odd tone in her voice. “And, James?
“Yeah?”
“You’re sure there’s nothing else?”
“Not a thing. Why? Have you got something else?”
I press a hand to my belly. A lot, I think. But nothing I’m willing to tell her over the phone.
8
After two hours of interviews and meetings, I’m exhausted but euphoric. Exhausted, because I’m pretty sure that I’ve now met every single person who works at Greystone-Branch, from the mailroom all the way up. Euphoric, because I know from Damien’s own policy that it’s only candidates the company is seriously considering who get the full-meal tour. Time is too valuable a commodity to waste precious employee minutes interviewing an unlikely candidate. In my case, I’m not applying for a job. I’d be an independent contractor. But the nature of the project—the creation of proprietary web and mobile software to link company communications and resources across the globe—will require access to not only the company’s network but also the employees. I need to understand how they currently work in order to make sure that I enhance their productivity, not detract from it.
In other words, if I get this contract, I’ll be here a lot. In this office. And in Dallas.
The memory of my mother’s house distracts me for a moment, and I miss something that Mr. “Please call me John” Greystone is saying.
“I’m sorry? My mind was wandering. I was thinking about the architecture of your website.”
“I only asked if you wanted some coffee. I thought we could talk for a few more minutes in my office, and then we’ll get you out of here.”
“Just water, please.”
Mr. Greystone’s assistant soon enters with a bottle of water, followed by the Vice President of Operations, Bijan Kamali. We settle in the sitting area, a corner of the large office set up with a small couch, two leather chairs, and a chrome and glass coffee table. The area reminds me of a similar section of Damien’s office, and I allow myself to relax a little, letting hope settle in. After all, they’ve taken a lot of time with me and paid a lot of attention to me. That has to be a good sign, doesn’t it?
“I’ll be honest with you, Nikki,” John says. “Bijan and I are very impressed, as was everyone you spoke with today.”
“I’m very glad to hear that.” I keep my voice steady, but inside, I’m turning gleeful cartwheels. “I’m impressed, too. You have an incredible operation here. I’d love to play a part in helping you streamline your communications processes.” That’s not an exaggeration. Working with Greystone-Branch would be a huge opportunity for me. Not only in terms of building my business’s reputation, but also for learning how to organize and operate a business. Yes, I have Stark International as a model, but I don’t ever anticipate running a business with that many divisions. Greystone-Branch is considerably smaller, and yet still global. As far as corporate structure is concerned, I could learn a lot by working with this team.
John glances toward Bijan, who nods subtly. John clears his throat and smiles at me, but this time the expression seems a little strained. “Frankly, we’re down to three candidates, and you’re all extremely qualified. At this point, we’re looking at additional factors.”
“Of course,” I say, though inside, my heart is racing. What does he mean by “additional factors”?
“We were hoping you could shine some light on the issue of proximity. We know you live in Los Angeles . . .”
He leaves the question dangling, and I grab onto it eagerly. If this question represents the nature of their concerns, then I’m golden. “As you know, I grew up in Dallas, so coming back frequently is no hardship at all.” That, of course, is an exaggeration. But as I’m determined to exorcise the ghosts of my past, if I get this contract I’ll totally make that happen.
“Travel isn’t a problem either. I’m fortunate to have access to my husband’s personal fleet and pilot. I can be in Dallas within a few hours. And travel to other locations is just as easily arranged. Of course, if I get this job, I’ll also either buy or rent a condo nearby for the duration of the project.”
“I know, right? Totally amazing. And I didn’t even ask for this. I figured I had no chance—I mean, who starts with the red carpet? But they just plucked me out of the massive pile of desperation, dreams, and sweat.”
I laugh. “I think they plucked you from a pile of talent.”
“Pfft. You’re just saying that because you’re my best friend.”
“Absolutely,” I say deadpan. “You really suck at your job, and I’m just being supportive by lying to you.”
“Bitch.”
“Love you, too. And, James? Congratulations.”
“Thanks.” I can practically hear the grin in her voice. “Okay, I should let you prep. When’s your interview, anyway?”
“I’m in the car on my way there right now.”
“Oh, shit. I didn’t mean to interrupt you. Good luck. Are you pumped up? ’Cause I can pump you up. I mean, come on. High school valedictorian. Double major in electrical engineering and computer science. Four-time recipient of the Stark International Science Fellowship. CEO of Fairchild Development. Designer and engineer of over two dozen web and mobile apps. Amateur photographer, superior poker player, and all around awesome best friend.” She’s rattled all of that off at the speed of light, and now she draws a deep breath. “Whew! Did I miss anything?”
I can barely talk, I’m laughing so hard. “You freak. Do you have my resume in front of you?”
“Don’t be silly.” Her voice takes on an unnaturally high pitch, and I assume she’s still teasing me. “Why would I have your resume in front of me? You’re my BFF,” she says, now sounding much more normal. “Of course, I know your resume. I sleep with it by my bedside and pay homage to it every time I remember how much better your college grades were than mine.”
“I love you, James.”
“Back at you, Nicholas. Good luck, okay?”
“Thanks.” I frown, still thinking of that odd tone in her voice. “And, James?
“Yeah?”
“You’re sure there’s nothing else?”
“Not a thing. Why? Have you got something else?”
I press a hand to my belly. A lot, I think. But nothing I’m willing to tell her over the phone.
8
After two hours of interviews and meetings, I’m exhausted but euphoric. Exhausted, because I’m pretty sure that I’ve now met every single person who works at Greystone-Branch, from the mailroom all the way up. Euphoric, because I know from Damien’s own policy that it’s only candidates the company is seriously considering who get the full-meal tour. Time is too valuable a commodity to waste precious employee minutes interviewing an unlikely candidate. In my case, I’m not applying for a job. I’d be an independent contractor. But the nature of the project—the creation of proprietary web and mobile software to link company communications and resources across the globe—will require access to not only the company’s network but also the employees. I need to understand how they currently work in order to make sure that I enhance their productivity, not detract from it.
In other words, if I get this contract, I’ll be here a lot. In this office. And in Dallas.
The memory of my mother’s house distracts me for a moment, and I miss something that Mr. “Please call me John” Greystone is saying.
“I’m sorry? My mind was wandering. I was thinking about the architecture of your website.”
“I only asked if you wanted some coffee. I thought we could talk for a few more minutes in my office, and then we’ll get you out of here.”
“Just water, please.”
Mr. Greystone’s assistant soon enters with a bottle of water, followed by the Vice President of Operations, Bijan Kamali. We settle in the sitting area, a corner of the large office set up with a small couch, two leather chairs, and a chrome and glass coffee table. The area reminds me of a similar section of Damien’s office, and I allow myself to relax a little, letting hope settle in. After all, they’ve taken a lot of time with me and paid a lot of attention to me. That has to be a good sign, doesn’t it?
“I’ll be honest with you, Nikki,” John says. “Bijan and I are very impressed, as was everyone you spoke with today.”
“I’m very glad to hear that.” I keep my voice steady, but inside, I’m turning gleeful cartwheels. “I’m impressed, too. You have an incredible operation here. I’d love to play a part in helping you streamline your communications processes.” That’s not an exaggeration. Working with Greystone-Branch would be a huge opportunity for me. Not only in terms of building my business’s reputation, but also for learning how to organize and operate a business. Yes, I have Stark International as a model, but I don’t ever anticipate running a business with that many divisions. Greystone-Branch is considerably smaller, and yet still global. As far as corporate structure is concerned, I could learn a lot by working with this team.
John glances toward Bijan, who nods subtly. John clears his throat and smiles at me, but this time the expression seems a little strained. “Frankly, we’re down to three candidates, and you’re all extremely qualified. At this point, we’re looking at additional factors.”
“Of course,” I say, though inside, my heart is racing. What does he mean by “additional factors”?
“We were hoping you could shine some light on the issue of proximity. We know you live in Los Angeles . . .”
He leaves the question dangling, and I grab onto it eagerly. If this question represents the nature of their concerns, then I’m golden. “As you know, I grew up in Dallas, so coming back frequently is no hardship at all.” That, of course, is an exaggeration. But as I’m determined to exorcise the ghosts of my past, if I get this contract I’ll totally make that happen.
“Travel isn’t a problem either. I’m fortunate to have access to my husband’s personal fleet and pilot. I can be in Dallas within a few hours. And travel to other locations is just as easily arranged. Of course, if I get this job, I’ll also either buy or rent a condo nearby for the duration of the project.”
