Page 2 of His Temptation
I glance down at her card and see that her name is Scarlett. She hands over a shiny gold credit card, and I swipe it, wondering if my life is about to change.
Could this possibly be an opportunity for a real job?
If I got this job, I could get health insurance for Benny and myself. How much stress would that relieve for me if I knew I could afford for us to get sick?
“No problem, Kylie.” She reads my name tag and smiles as she takes the drinks. “One thing”—she stops before she walks away—“remember, dress for the job you want, not the job you have.”
With that, she walks away with her friend. I try to fly through the customers in my line and get past the morning rush so that I can properly freak out.
It’s nine thirty by the time I have a moment of peace. I pull the card from my pocket and study it.
Scarlett Johnson. Hiring Manager. Nova Sky Airlines.
I gulp down the bile rising in my throat. I’m so out of my element. I don’t know what I was thinking.
Answer: I wasn’t. I didn’t mean for those words to spill from my mouth.
She wants me to dress for the job I want. I look down at my ratty, old jeans and black button-down shirt. I don’t have anything nicer than this.
There’s no use. She’ll take one look at me and laugh if I walk in there with the clothes I own. I shouldn’t even bother calling her to set up an interview.
But when the line slows down and Miranda shows up to assist with the crowd, I find myself sneaking into the back and dialing Scarlett’s number.
When I walk back out to the counter, I’m in a daze. I have an interview in three hours. I assured her I could head back home to change and be ready in time. My mouth kept on agreeing to things, and I wanted to punch my own face to get myself to shut up.
I think I have a copy of my résumé somewhere in my backpack, but what good would that do? It’s filled with ridiculous jobs and a whopping GED. As stupid as all of this feels, there’s something in my gut telling me to go all out.
If life is trying to extend an olive branch, I need to take it. I need to do everything in my power to snatch it up and make some olive oil. My life has been pretty bland without it.
I think about the emergency credit card I opened a couple of months ago in case I ever needed to use it to feed or clothe my brother. What if I went out and bought an outfit and returned it right after my interview?
Sure, it’s not the most ethical thing to do, but I’m desperate. You’d do it, too, if you’d had the kind of bad luck that I’ve experienced over the years. If it meant a better future for your little brother.
Three hours later and two hundred fifty dollars in the hole, I’m walking back into the building in a fitted black skirt with a white blouse and black heels. I even asked the sales associate at the store how to do my hair. She suggested a low bun, which I then googled after I walked out.
I purchased a tube of lipstick and some mascara, which I guess I can’t return, but I thought they would be necessary to complete the look. But I only spent eight dollars for both of them at the drugstore so I can handle that.
The heels click all the way to the elevator, making me feel like a fraud. She told me to go to the fifty-seventh floor and ask for Scarlett when I reached the front desk. I hope to catch my breath on the elevator to cool my nerves, but the damn thing gets to the floor in seconds.
The doors open up to an office layout that I was not expecting. The lobby of this building is cold and modern while this place is nothing like that. The dark wooden floor and warm lighting instantly give it a more relaxing feel. It eases my nerves slightly.
I walk up to the blonde sitting at the front desk as she types away on her computer. She is young and beautiful. Must be the standard qualifications for these companies in the city.
She looks up and does a double take but never smiles. “Hi. Can I help you?”
Those nerves that disappeared are suddenly back with her stone face and rude demeanor.
“Hi. Um, I’m here to see Scarlett.”
I catch a small eye roll.
“Follow me.”
She stands up and starts walking down the hallway. I can barely keep up in my heels. She’s wearing even higher ones, but she seems to be a pro at walking in them. We weave through so many desks and hallways that I begin to fear I’ll never find my way out. Then we stop at a small office in a row of several private offices in a side hall.
The long-legged blonde front-desk woman who never introduced herself to me sticks her head into the door and announces my presence before she walks off without a glance my way.
I take timid steps into the room, where I find Scarlett sitting behind a desk with a warm smile.
