BURYING THE HATCHET

"Are you ready?"

"Do I look ready?"

Her brown eyes half closed due to exhaustion travel slowly from my flat ironed black hair, down to my made-up face, to my carefully pressed black knee-length dress, down to the black stilettos I save for only important days. Days like today. Her eyes light up with appreciation. "Yeah, you look ready. Do you feel ready though?"

"No." I shake my head. "Not one bit."

"Good thing they can't see your feelings. As long as you look right, talk right and act right,-" She shrugs. "-the job is yours."

I take a deep breath and nod in gratitude. "Thanks, Miley."

"What's the job again?" She pushes a cup of coffee across the marbled kitchen island and I try to reject it. "Take it. You need it."

Just like every other time it has happened in the past, I succumb to her wishes and take the damn mug. And like every other time, she is right. I do need the coffee. "Secretary."

"That should be an easy one."

"To the CEO." She gapes at me and I nod. "Yeah, to the CEO."

"Well,-" I fix her with a deadpan stare as she tries to think of something to comfort me. "Depends on the CEO." I roll my eyes and she comes over to give me a side hug. "Honey, you got this. I believe in you, maybe you should start believing in yourself too."

"Remind me why I am doing this again." I whine, ignoring her vote of confidence.

"Because you need to get over Joshua, that fucking douchebag." I try to protest but she cuts me off immediately. "You've been moping around and wasting away for the past 7 months because of that bastard. You can do better, honey. And this job will help you do better." She rubs her fingers together. "Plus, a few extra bucks won't hurt."

"I don't need this job for money." I wiggle my brows. "I got you for that."

She sneers. "Aren't you a little too old to be a freeloader?"

"That's a mean thing to say." I mutter, like she'll actually care.

As expected, she shrugs her shoulders as a show of nonchalance. "I am a mean person." She pulls her robe tighter around her body and I hurriedly finish up my coffee dregs. "We need to get you to your interview right now."

Inside her black Mercedes-AMG, she keeps telling me tales of women who miraculously got over their exes after getting a job and how this job would do the same for me. I get it, an idle mind is the devil's workshop. The devil in question being Joshua, that twat.

Tears burn at the back of my eyes when several images of the man pop in my mind. It would have been mad helpful if Joshua was some ugly dude but nah, I had to fall in love with the most elegant man in the world. The man even had a fucking manbun. Joshua was elegance at its finest. It's a pity that pretty people tell the ugliest lies. I huff out an exhausted sigh and wipe my eyes hastily.

Not today, Devil.

I can't afford to ruin my eye makeup because of my horrible experience with dating. I tune my mind back to what my sister was yapping about and I catch the last thing she was saying.

"-buy a car, and then, a house."

I blink in obvious confusion. A what now? "What are you talking about?"

"I was saying this job will do you a lot of good. First, you can rent a place of your own. Maybe along the line, buy a car and finally, a house."

I roll my eyes. "Yeah, right. Like you got a job to get you those things." Miley's gleeful chuckle makes me crack a smile of my own. "Not everyone is fortunate enough to get married to an Emirati oil tycoon."

"What can I say? I am one lucky soul."

I silently pray that some of her luck rubs on me in my interview today. My friend, Lisa, had told me about the job and after a bit of convincing (a lot, actually) from both her and my sister, I finally applied. A few days ago, I received a mail scheduling my interview for the secretary post.

"Meeting Hassan was pure stroke of luck, honey. I had to go to Dubai first though." She spares me an amused glance. "Are you ready to go to Dubai?" Bitch! She knows I hate travelling.

"Nah, I'm good."

She parks in front of the building that had a mammoth signage of GOODCARE on top of it. She rubs my knees in a comforting gesture and I place my hand atop hers for a while.

"Honey, you're gonna do great." She leans forward to place an endearing peck on my left cheek. "The job is already yours. Don't worry about it."

I nod with a smile I'm not really feeling and climb out of the Jeep. "You don't need to come get me. I think there's a bus stop close."

"Alright, honey. Break a leg."

I glance at the building again and debate running after the retreating taillight of my sister's car, why am I even standing here? I should be at home, immersed in that new series on Netflix whilst burying myself in bags and bags of chips (most likely from my secret stash of Doritos). Definitely not in front of this skyscraper with shoes that are tighter than the knots in my belly.

Because you need to get over Joshua, that fucking douchebag.

My sister's words from earlier comes back to me and after a few seconds of deliberation, my resolve stiffen and I sashay to the revolving doors of GOODCARE, making sure the confidence I'm actually not feeling is prominent in my gait.

Fuck you, Joshua. I'm gonna get this job and finally get over you, asshole.

A blast of cold air hits me as I enter the air-conditioned reception and cringe at the sea of people thronging the place. Are they all working here? I seriously hope not cos even though I'm not claustrophobic, I still do not like a great deal of people in my space and I definitely would not love to work with all these people all day, all week.

A couple people steal glances at me, ranging from curious to disinterested to wariness, consequently adding another knot to the tangled mess already lodging in my chest. They are making me fucking nervous with their unwanted discreet peeks. I stifle the childish urge to hurl obscenities, walking to the big front desk in front that has a LED backlit signage of the company's name instead. I mouth the name inwardly.

GOODCARE.

Not a very impressive name really, but not my problem also. As long as I get paid when I get the job, the neon sign behind that big desk could very well read DOOKIES and I still won't give a fuck. If I get the job, I correct myself.

Reaching the desk, I clear my throat and smile warmly at the lady who lifts her head from the laptop she was furiously typing on. Judging from the way her brows snap together, it's obvious she's not delighted by my interruption but she quickly replaces the slight frown with a well practiced grin. Although her warm smile put her pearly whites on full display , there's still a deepset scowl lurking close to the surface of her chestnut eyes that unsettles me. A bitch would have the same effect on me.

"You know you shouldn't judge a book by its cover." I chide myself and return her beaming smile.

"Hello and welcome to Goodcare. How may I help you this beautiful morning?" Her cheery voice quelling my apprehension in the slightest.

See? She's nice and probably doesn't have a bitchy bone in her. It's not her fault her eyes tell the exact opposite.

"Good morning,-" I take a quick glance at name tag pinned to her ample bosom "-Jessie. My name is Ashley Stone and I have an interview here scheduled for today."

Her smile falters as confusion seems to take the reins. "Interview?"

My heart rate picks up. Am I not in the right place? Did I read the address wrong or something? Did I read that appointment mail right? I had read the mail while taking shots at a bar, so there's a fair chance that I was already tipsy and read it all wrong. But hey, I checked the mail again last night under my sister's watchful eyes. The sound of someone clearing their throat put a stop to my wandering thoughts and I blink back into reality.

"Yeah. I have an interview today. For the position of secretary to the CEO, I believe."

Jessie mouths an "Ohh" of realization before her face hardens. My words change something in her, or rather, bring out something in her. The warmth of her countenance is quickly replaced with a cold stare bordering on repulsion. Did I say something wrong? I can swear that I'm innocent. I know my sister says I'm an annoying piece of shit but that's only because I was born to annoy her. That's what younger sisters are for. Besides, I've barely shared 50 words with Jessie here and every single one has been sickly polite.

Her hawk eyes give me a quick once-over, sizing me up, and when they rearrive at my eyes, she scoffs, doing little to hide her disdain and making me more self-conscious in the process. Do I have dirt on my shoe? Does my dress not fit right? Do I have one fucking strand out of place on my head? After what seems like a millennium, she nods stiffly and stands to her feet.

"Very well then. I'll take you to Miss Beckett, that's where you'll be interviewed."

I smile gratefully despite her spiteful tone, to which she unsurprisingly responds with a glare. Tone it down, bitch. She leaves the desk and just walks ahead, not signalling me to follow her but common sense tells me to do just that.

I admire her body as I trail behind, I always appreciate a good body when I see one. And Jessie has the body of an IG model, whilst I have that of a runway model. A slightly-taller-than-average runway model anyways. This is a very beautiful way of saying I'm gangly. Stick-thin. Skinny. A composition of blood, bones and very little flesh. Don't get it twisted, I have a fucking huge appetite. An alarmingly huge appetite actually. I mean, I can finish two Double Quarter Pounder with Cheese, a large sized fries and a big drink to finish it off. On the fair side, the big drink is usually a diet coke. I know it's stupid, but the diet coke is just for my mind.

And no, I do not have a strict workout plan (or any workout plans in general). Thanks to my fast metabolism, I don't need that which is for the best cos God knows I'd pass out after an hour in the gym. During camp school in 9th grade, some stupid kid had said all I had to do was strike my leg across a rock, and all the trees in the camp would set ablaze. The motherfucker had a good laugh about his terrible joke just before I pushed him into the lake that was rumored to house hundreds of crocodiles. Sadly, it was just a rumor. I'd had loved it if Grayson had flopped out of that dirty water with one of his legs clawed off by a green, thick-skinned reptile. Moral of a story is I am a life-sized, stick woman drawing.

Jessie on the other hand was voluptuous. Yeah, that is the word. Voluptuous. Curvaceous. Sexy. Identical to my sister, only my Miley had to spend thousands of dollars for her BBL and other surgeries I never cared to commit to memory. Miley's waist is so tiny, I fear it could snap someday under the pressure of her ginormous tits and ass. Jessie's curves aren't as jarring, but just as sexy. Her ass looks like it got fondled everytime by men. Or women. I don't know the team she rides for.

I mindlessly follow her, letting random thoughts fill my mind to help with the tension inside. The rhythmic clicks of both our heels against the tiled floor also provide entertainment to my waiting ears.

Eventually, she stops at some giant door and jerks her head at it.

"This is you." I turn to the door and look back her in utter confusion. Is she trying to call me flat? Cos I swear to God,- "Miss Beckett is behind the door." She says exasperatedly, like she'd rather be anywhere than babysitting me right now.

Too bad, honey. You were the one who applied to be a receptionist.

"Oh, okay. Thanks." I say, making sure to not smile this time. She doesn't deserve my beautiful curve of endearment.

Jessie gives me one last malicious glare that makes my teeth grind against each other. "Good luck." Her snide tone telling me otherwise. "Not like that'd help." She mutters as she starts going the direction we came from.

"Hey, am I supposed to-" I reduce my voice as the lady got even farther without turning "-knock?" I huff out an exhausted sigh and take three deep breaths before knocking twice on the door.

Personal tip to self : Always judge a book by its cover. Some of these books are bitchy as hell.

"Please, come in." A female voice from within calls our. Is that the CEO?

I take a microsecond to brush off the non-existent lints from the bodice of my dress before turning the knob on the door. I walk into the office with a shitload of nervousness, nearly forgetting to close the door in the process. Damn, this is the most nerve-wracking experience in my life. If this job doesn't work out, I know for sure I'm not going through this again. Ever again.

The woman sitting at the only table in the large office looks up and gives me a smile tainted with uncertainty. However, I'd take her confused smile anyday over Jessie's conceited glare.

"Uhmm, do I know you?" She queries with a kind voice.

"No. I mean, not yet." Her brow goes up the slightest and I wince. Way to go, Ashley. You are killing this interview. Literally. And not in a good way. Taking one last deep breath, I compose myself and smile apologetically. "My name is Ashley Stone and I applied for the post of secretary to the CEO. My interview was scheduled for today."

Recognition -or relief- dawns on her face and she nods hastily before gesturing to the seat before her. I take the hint and settle down. I remember some blog post I saw somewhere that spoke about sitting upright and its benefit in a corporate setting and I do accordingly.

"Hello, I'm Mary Beckett. Sorry about my earlier confusion, it's just that the interview was scheduled for 9am and this is-" She lifts her hand and take a look at the gold watch sitting pretty on her wrist. "-8:38am."

Is this going to be a deal breaker? Damn, I knew I should had spent a few more minutes in the bathroom. "I just wanted to make sure I didn't come in late. Initially, I had planned to wait in the reception till it was time, but the receptionist ushered me in." Well, usher is a fucking stretch but yeah, who cares. "I hope I didn't catch you at a bad time?"

She shook her head. "No, of course not. You're an early bird and that's a good thing. A wonderful thing actually."

While she types on her computer, I take the opportunity to appraise her. She's obviously rich, her watch must cost mighty bucks and I've met with enough of my Emirati brother-in-law's business partners to know that her suit gown isn't cheap either. Still, I'm almost certain that she is not the CEO. She doesn't possess that air of superiority that should come with being a CEO.

Or maybe she's just a timid CEO.

That is a possibility, but unlikely. She probably works directly under the CEO. She finally speaks and cuts into my thoughts.

"Have you worked as a secretary before?"

I pause. "Yeah, but not on a professional level. I used to work as a part-time secretary for my father during my college years." Wow. That's not very impressive, even to me. So basically, I'm saying I'm a newbie and that doesn't sound good.

Miss Beckett just nods. "Alright. I see you graduated college 5 years?" She looks to me for confirmation which I give to her with a single nod. "Which job or jobs have you worked within these 5 years?"

"None." I yell inwardly. "I've been running solo as an event planner." Which is a motherfucking stretch. The only events I plan are the weekly drinks night I have with Lisa and a couple other of my friends. Sometimes, with Emily too. But for today, I am a certified event planner.

"Oh, really? That's nice." It's hard to tell if the look of interest she has on is genuine or not. I can only hope for the best. "How do you respond to working under pressure?"

Like corn responds to heat whilst enclosed in a pan. I blow hot and pop.But anyways,- "I tend to embrace working under pressure because it forces me to become the best version of myself and act quickly and decisively. Honestly, I had quite a few exams in college where pressure got to me and I did not perform to the best of my abilities. After realizing that I needed to improve, I actively looked for stressful situations in my career to get better in these circumstances. I’ve developed several personal strategies, and I now see pressure as a motivating factor and a challenge, so when these situations arise, I approach them with a positive mindset."

I take a quiet breath after my ramble. Oh boy, where are these lies coming from?

Miss Beckett swallows up my fallacies though. "Do you have a problem working round the clock for 12 hours a day, weekends not exclusive but not often either?"

"I don't have much of a social life actually, so that's fine."

She seems satisfied. "Do you know how to use a computer?" I blink in puzzlement, is this woman fucking with me right now? This is the 21st century for Christ's sake! Seeing my reaction, her lips twitch and the gaze she throws me is full of amusement. "Believe me, this is a protocol question."

Swallowing the exasperated hiss at the tip of my tongue, I indulge her. "Yes, I know how to use a computer."

"Nice. You're hired."

My jaw goes slack and it takes me a fat minute to assimilate what she said a moment ago. Trust me, I'm not slow. Just shocked. "So soon?"

I half expect her to snap at me or something but she doesn't do that. The slight lift of her lips heightens my anxiety infact. "Yeah. You showed respect for time by coming in early. You're honest." Well, I beg to differ but carry on, nice Miss. "And I think you'll be a great fit for the job. Anything else?"

My head's still swooning at the moment but luckily, it's still capable of concocting reasonable thoughts. "When do I start?"

"Uhmm, immediately if you like." I let out a small, choked sound but thankfully, the telephone on her table rings at the same time.

"Miss Beckett speaking."

Immediately, her face contorts with something akin to fear and that spikes my curiosity. Who's on the other side of the phone that has this woman shaking like a leaf in bitter wind? For real, she physically pales with every indistinct squawks that wafts from the speaker of the phone and I'm almost certain it's a man talking. Eventually, the call ends and Miss Beckett looks like she's close to having a mental breakdown. After a couple of deep breaths, she looks back to me with a strained smile.

She points to the telephone she just finished with. "I just got off the phone with the CEO and he's extra cheery today." Her shaky laugh makes me want to give her shoulders a good rub and relieve some of her stress. "On second thought, I think it's better you start next week Monday. You know, new week, new job, new start. What do you say to that, huh?"

Girl, you don't need to tell me twice. "That sounds nice."

We both stand simultaneously and she extends her right hand for a handshake that I graciously accept. Damn, I'm a corporate ting now. "I look forward to working with you, Miss Ashley." I'm not so certain but I think I catch a glimpse of pleading in her eyes but I shake it off. What would she be begging me for? Hell, I need this job more than the job needs me.

"Same here. Thank you for this opportunity, Miss Beckett."

She waves it aside with a dismissive gesture. "Oh please, call me Mary."

"Alright, Mary. Have a nice day and enjoy the rest of your week."

On my way out, I'm rather disappointed that bitchy, brown eyed receptionist is not on her seat. I have half a mind to wait for her arrival on one of those nice seats in the reception area and gloat about how easy the interview was and how she'd be seeing me clock in everyday for next week.

Still giddy with excitement, I skip all the way to the bus stop, ignoring the weird looks people keep throwing my way. Inside the bus, I call my friend and grin when she picks up.

"Ashley, you went for the interview?"

I hum in agreement. "Mhmmm."

"You got there on time?"

"Yup." I make sure to pop the p.

A pause. "How did it go?" Lisa's voice a little anxious and I chuckle.

"Bitch, I got the job!"