Chapter 1
Dressed in a black skirt and short-sleeved pale blue blouse, Melissa slipped on her black jacket to cover the half-sleeve butterfly and flowers tattoo on her right arm. With the jacket tapering snugly at the waist, it showed her figure perfectly. Feeling confident, she slid on her black-heeled shoes and stood in front of the mirror. “Crap,” she muttered, noticing she’d forgotten to take her nose and eyebrow piercings out. Quickly taking them out, she turned to face the mirror again. “That’ll do,” she said, flicking her long, bright red dyed hair off her shoulder and reaching for her cigarettes on the windowsill. Opening her bedroom window, she lit a cigarette, took a long draw, rested her elbows on the sill, and blew the smoke outside.
Melissa noticed several teenage girls walking along her street. “Oi fatty!” one of them yelled; the other girls laughed loudly as they crossed the road to the other side. Leaning further out of the window to see who they were shouting at, Melissa could see Becky, the fifteen-year-old, overweight, blond-haired girl who lived at the bottom of her street. Becky looked scared as the girls circled her and kept calling her names.
Melissa’s jaw clenched; she knew what it was like to be bullied. Her heart angrily thudded as she rushed out of her bedroom, marched down the stairs, out of her house, and along the street towards the girls. “Oi, leave her alone!” she bellowed.
The girls ran down the street, laughing and still taunting Becky.
“Come on,” Melissa quietly said, protectively wrapping her arm around Becky’s shoulder. “I’ll walk you home.”
Becky looked at her with red, swollen eyes. “Why do they keep being mean to me?” she sniffled. “I’ve done nothing wrong to them.”
“I know you haven’t,” Melissa sighed; she stopped walking and leaned against a red brick garden wall. “They’re mean to you because you’re beautiful, and they’re ugly.”
“I’m not beautiful!” Becky cried, tears streaming down her cheeks. “They say I’m a fat freak.”
“Listen to me,” Melissa sternly said, placing her hands on Becky’s shoulders. “I know what it’s like to be bullied. When I was your age, everyone bullied me and called me Twiggy because I was skinny. They said I looked like a stick insect and would snap me in half if I told anyone what they said, and do you know what made it worse?”
Becky sniffled and shook her head.
“I used to wear glasses with lenses so thick, it looked like I had jam jars on my eyes.” Melissa sadly sighed.
“No, you didn’t,” Becky giggled.
“Yes, I did,” Melissa said, choking a little laugh. “If you come and see me one day, I’ll show you some photos if you promise not to laugh.”
“I promise I won’t,” Becky said, drawing a cross over her chest. “Can I come and see them after lunch?”
“I should be back home by six,” Melissa said, stepping away from the wall. “You can come to my house if you’re allowed,” she said, noticing the gang of girls standing on the corner of the street. “Let’s get you home before those girls return,” she sighed, feeling sorry for Becky; over the years, she’d got to know her well, and they’d always gotten along.
When Melissa returned to her house to get her handbag, she checked her stockings to make sure they hadn’t snagged on the garden wall and sighed with relief; they were okay. Since she’d been made redundant and hadn’t found another job, she was living on a budget and didn’t want to buy new ones. Melissa was having difficulty finding a new job. She’d applied for many jobs and wasn’t fussy about what she did, but she was overqualified for most of them and had no response. She guessed that potential employers wouldn’t hire her because they knew she’d leave when she found a higher-paid job to suit her qualifications. A few days ago, she’d uploaded her CV and contact details to a website where employers could contact her about work. After receiving an email offering her an interview for a personal assistant at a small company called Tony’s Clearance, Bankrupt & Liquidation Stock, she had cringed when she read it. The poorly written email didn’t explain anything about the company, what was expected of her, or anything about the wage. But it was an interview, and hopefully, she would get the job.
Walking to the bus stop, she checked the time on her mobile; she had an hour to get to the town. It wasn’t too far away, but she would rather be early than late for the interview. While she waited for the bus, she couldn’t stop thinking about Becky; she understood what she was going through. Melissa was relentlessly bullied at school for her geeky looks and skinny body. All the girls developed breasts and curves before she did, and that’s when things got worse. The girls were complete bitches, and the boys were even worse; they used to tease her about her flat chest. The worst tormentor was the boy she had a crush on, Andrew, who was a member of the local rough family, the Wilsons. Most of the Wilsons lived in the area where she lived, and they bullied her too. When she was at school, Andrew would sometimes be friendly to her and ask her to join him during dinner break. Melissa would eagerly go and sit with him and help him with his schoolwork. They would eat their sandwiches and happily talk while she wrote the correct answers to his homework in his notebook so he could copy them when he went home. When they were alone, Andrew was nice to her and made her laugh. It gave her a little hope that he was interested in her. But that would be shattered when his friends joined them. Andrew would change; he would call her Twiggy, and tell her to hurry up with his homework because she was embarrassing him. When she finished his work, he would walk away with his friends without thanking her, and leave her in tears.
With no friends, Melissa would shut herself in her bedroom every night and study.
Melissa passed all of her exams with distinction.
Melissa had also never felt part of her family because her mom, stepdad and stepsister had the same surname, Simpson. She’d always felt the odd one out with her having her father’s surname, Conway. Plus, her relationship with her mother wasn’t good. Her mom always pushed her aside and favoured her pretty stepsister. So when Melissa turned sixteen, she asked her mom if she would sign the deed poll papers to change her surname from Conway to her nanna’s surname, Nolan. Her mom agreed and signed the papers, then Melissa moved across the city to live with her beloved nanna and to get away from the Wilsons.
When Melissa attended college for business studies and accountancy, she began to gain weight, and her breasts seemed to grow overnight. Several male students asked her out on dates, but she declined; her studies were her top priority. The names she was called then were “fridge” and “ice queen.” The other girls called her a snob because she didn’t mix with them or go out partying.
When she was nineteen, Melissa completed her studies with A* grades and ranked first in every subject.
***
Standing outside the large red brick building, Melissa’s heart sank; the place looked derelict. Hearing voices from the open window above her, she took a deep breath, pushed the large wooden door open, and stepped inside. Walking across a small concrete yard, she could see stairs through an open door on the side of the building. Making her way up the dusty stairs, the male voices were getting louder. “What am I doing?” she muttered, thinking she should leave.
Suddenly, the door at the top of the stairs opened, and two men exited the room. Melissa stepped aside to let them pass; they didn’t even acknowledge her. Making her way to the room the men had left, she stood in the doorway. Sitting at a desk was a slim, olive-skinned, dark-haired man rummaging through a desk full of paperwork. “Excuse me, I’m looking for Mr.” She paused, remembering the person who sent her the email had signed it as Tony. “I’m here to see Tony,” she said, knocking on the door to catch his attention.
“Who are you?” the man asked, his brown eyes looking at her with surprise.
This is a great start, she thought. “I’m Melissa Nolan. I’m here for the interview.”
“Shit,” the man said, bumping his head with his fist. “I’m sorry, I forgot you were coming today. Come in,” he said, gesturing for her to enter.
Melissa’s brows raised; she couldn’t believe he’d just sworn in front of her.
“I’m sorry for swearing; it’s been a stressful day,” he grimaced as he stood and walked around the desk. He moved a chair and placed it in front of his desk. “I’m Tony; please take a seat.”
Melissa glanced down at the dust-covered chair. Swiping some of the dust off, she sat on the edge of it. Tony sat opposite her. Melissa could see he was trying his best to look professional, but was failing. His white shirt needed ironing, his tie was crooked, and he looked and acted like a mess.
“Okay, Miss Norton, he said, straightening the paperwork in front of him, “tell me why you want to work for my company.”
“My surname is Nolan, not Norton,” Melissa huffed, “and I don’t know anything about your company. You saw my CV online and sent me an email inviting me to the interview, which you’d forgotten, and then you cursed in front of me,” she sternly spoke, staring at him with disbelief. “This is a joke, right?” she asked, thinking he looked like a naughty boy who’d just been told off. “Well, Tony,” she said, standing up, “thank you for wasting my time,” she mumbled, feeling disheartened as she walked towards the door. The place was a shambles, and so was the boss.
“Miss Nolan,” Tony called, standing up.
“What!” she hissed, turning to face him.
“I’m sorry. I’m new to this; I’ve never interviewed anyone before. Can we start again?” Tony asked, looking at her with puppy-dog eyes.
“Okay,” Melissa sighed, returning to the chair, wondering if he could redeem himself.
“Thank you,” Tony nervously smiled, sitting at the desk. “Do you prefer to be called Melissa or Mel?”
“Mel will be fine,” she curtly answered. “Can I ask you something first?”
“Sure, what is it?” Tony asked, running his hand over his shirt, trying to straighten the creases.
“How many people do you have working for you?” Melissa curiously asked.
“Ten,” Tony answered.
“Okay,” Melissa slowly nodded, gazing around the messy office. In the corner was a sink with a dripping tap. “You have ten staff members, and you didn’t interview any of them?”
“No, I didn’t because they’re friends and family. I didn’t bother with interviews; I trust them all,” Tony proudly stated.
“Tell me about your company,” Melissa said, side-glancing at the dripping tap; it was irritating her.
Tony flopped back in his chair, scratching his head. “Well, I buy bankrupt stock at a low price and sell it for a profit.”
“How long have you been in business?” Melissa asked.
“Two years,” Tony answered.
“Are you thinking of expanding at any time?” she asked.
“Maybe,” Tony shrugged, “it depends on finances.”
Melissa could see that Tony had no clue what he was doing, and he was irritating her as much as the dripping tap. “Do you have any questions for me?” she asked.
“I asked you one earlier, and you nearly bit my head off,” Tony mumbled, sitting up straight, thinking how unfriendly she was; she hadn’t even smiled.
Melissa slowly shook her head, thinking how immature Tony was. “This interview is over,” she said, standing up. “I’ll be amazed if you fill the position.”
“I’m sorry!” Tony cried, running his fingers through his hair. “I emailed you when I saw your amazing CV online. I thought you could help me. I’m out most days with the lads picking up new stock and haven’t got time to do this,” he babbled, swiping some of the paperwork off his desk. “I’m drowning in this paperwork,” he said, looking at her hopefully. “I need help.”
“Is it really that bad?” Melissa asked, telling herself not to feel sorry for him.
“Yes,” Tony sighed, “I’m pretty sure my accounts are wrong. My ex-girlfriend tried to do them for me.”
“Is she an accountant?” Melissa asked.
“No,” Tony grimaced, “she just did a basic bookkeeping course to help me.”
Melissa let out a little whine; she wanted to see his account books to correct them. When it came to accounting, she was a perfectionist. “Okay, I’ll help you, but you better not mess me about with my wages,” she sternly said.
“Really?” Tony’s eyes widened with surprise.
“Yes,” Melissa sighed.
“I can only offer you minimum wage,” Tony said, expecting her to change her mind.
“I’d already guessed that,” Melissa said, standing up.
“You won’t regret this,” Tony smiled, sighing with relief.
“I already am,” Melissa sarcastically said, swinging her handbag over her shoulder. “When do you want me to start?”
“Today?” Tony said, looking at her, hopefully.
“No!” she gasped.
“Okay,” Tony mumbled, “tomorrow?”
“I’ll see you tomorrow at nine,” Melissa said, walking out of his office and making her way down the stairs, feeling annoyed with herself; she was always a sucker for a sob story.
“Mel!” Tony called from the top of the stairs.
Melissa stopped walking. “Yes?” she said, turning to face him.
“Thank you,” he smiled.
“It’s okay. I’ll see you tomorrow,” Melissa said, making her way down the rest of the stairs. She couldn’t believe she’d agreed to work for Tony, but it was a job, and she needed the wage. Her plans now were to keep her CV online and pray that she would be offered a better position elsewhere.
