Page 110 of Sins (The Sins Trilogy 1)
Tony’s belly growls again. I let him order us lunch, and we sit down to eat. He’s quiet, probably embarrassed about using the wrong name. Since I can’t probe Tony about Ivy—he’s too chagrined already—I’m mulling over my weird dream. Specifically, the girl in the blue dress. She seemed familiar. Is she a friend? Did she play a prank on me in a pool when I was younger? Somehow, it felt more sinister.
Ugh.I wish everyone in my dreams came with nametags, especially when they feel this real. That way I could figure out who they are. I can’t draw well enough to do a sketch like the police.
My phone rings. It’s an unknown number. “Hello?”
“Hi. This is Rhonda from the Pryce Family Foundation. Is this Iris Smith?”
Oh my God.I clear my throat. “Yes, this is she.”
“We liked your résumé and would like to invite you for an on-site interview. Is this Friday good? Say, ten a.m.?”
“Yes! It’s fantastic!” I say, then put a hand over my mouth as I realize how ridiculously eager I must sound. But I can’t help it. This is a huge milestone. And a vindication, especially after Sam said it’d be hard for me to find a job.
She laughs warmly. “I’m glad you’re so excited. We love people with a passion for what we do. Please come to the office by nine fifty-five, then.”
“I will! Thank you!”
I wait until she hangs up, then drop my phone on the counter and start hopping like a kid before Christmas, hands clenched and arms bent and pressed tight to my sides. “Oh my God! Oh my God!”
“What is it?” Tony asks, laughing.
“That was the Pryce Family Foundation! They want me! I mean, they want to interview me! I guess they liked my résumé.”
“Of course they did. It was as awesome as the woman herself. Congratulations.”
“Thanks, but what do I do to get ready? I’ve never gone to one before.” It’s embarrassing to admit. “Do I have to prepare something? A short speech on why I want to work there?”
He laughs again. “No. Just put on something nice and neat, then…relax and talk.”
“That’s it? Just…talk? About what?”
“Whatever they ask. Don’t think of it as trying to make them like you. They have to make you like them, too, or you won’t be working there, right?”
“Well, yeah, if I had a ton of options. I need the job more than they need me.”
“They don’t know how many options you have. And you won’t tell them.”
Right. That’s how you negotiate. I know that, but somehow when it’s about me, my mind goes blank. “I wish there was a script or something so I could practice.”
“How about a mock interview? I’ve done lots of them. On the both side of the table.”
“You sure? Aren’t you, you know, busy with your own business or…?”
“I pay my workers a lot of money so I don’t have to be there all time.”
“Well then, yeah. Yes! Fantastic! Thank you.”
We do mock interviews that afternoon and a few times over the next couple of days to help me get ready. We don’t talk about the kiss or the nightmare. Or the fact that he called me Ivy.
