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“What do you get a guy who has everything for his birthday?” I sit across the dining room table from Cindy, my eyes focusing on a bag of chips on the kitchen counter that I hadn't noticed there before. Last time I checked, potato chips aren't low-carb. The bag is open, which means someone has been eating them, and it certainly wasn't me.
“Sex,” she replies bluntly.
“Falling off the horse.” I point to the bag.
“I had a craving. So sue me.”
“You're only human.” I smirk.
“No. I take that back. Don't sue me. You wouldn't get much.” Her eyes circle her humble abode.
I reach across the table to take her hands in mine, drawing her attention back to me. “Cindy, it's fine. I'm sure the diet gods aren't going to smite you down for having the occasional bag of chips.”
“It's not fine,” she insists. “The chips are a gateway drug to other things. Do you know how badly I've been craving chocolate lately?”
“You made that chocolate cake the other day,” I remind her.
“It's not the same.” She shakes her head. “I want chocolate. Real chocolate.”
“Dieting long-term is hard.” I pat her hand. “If you can just stick to your guns, the cravings will eventually go away.”
“I hope you're right, because I'm going a bit crazy.” She scowls.
“Croix can get sex from me anytime he wants.” I make a waving motion with my hand, going back to the original subject. “I want to do something special for him.”
“Special sex then.”
I laugh. “What's special sex?”
“Things that you normally wouldn't do for him.” She lowers her voice as if someone else is listening in.
To be honest, there's not much I wouldn't let him do to me, and he's never suggested anything outside of my comfort zone. I'm not sure what special sex would be for him.
“I've got nothing.” I toss my hands up.
“Boy, are you unimaginative.” She rolls her eyes.
“It sounds like you have no shortage of ideas. Enlighten me.” I give her a sarcastic look.
She leans forward a bit. “It doesn't have to just be sex. It can be anything sexy or sensual. Do you ever wear lingerie for him? Maybe you could give him a massage. Or you could do the all out romantic thing with candles and a bubble bath.”
“I don't think men are big into candles and bubble baths.” I screw my face.
“Well, every man likes a massage. I've been with enough of them to know.” She sits back in her chair, pulling her hands out of mine and resting them on top of the table.
“I think I like the lingerie idea better.” I quickly go over the small collection of lingerie that I have inside of my head. “I still want to get him something else too, though.”
“Well, you know the man better than I do.” She inhales, obviously at a loss.
“I do, but unfortunately, the only thing I know that he loves is coffee. Maybe I should get him a gift card to that coffee shop down the street from work that he likes. That seems impersonal, though.” My shoulders slump as my well of ideas runs dry.
***
After dinner, I return to my room and boot up my computer to play some mindless games on Facebook. Out of habit, I check my email first. To my surprise, there's a response from one of the companies I applied to when I first moved to Florida and doubt was eating at me that I'd actually want to work at The Billionaires Club.
I open the email and scan through the details. The company took the liberty of setting up an interview for me in the morning. While there's no mention of pay rate, I can only imagine it will be more than I get paid at The Billionaires Club. Not only that, but this is a stable company that's been around for nearly thirty years. If I get on with them, my career will be set.
I chew my bottom lip, debating on whether or not I should go to the interview. In truth, I already have a good job. But this job is even better—much closer to what I had originally wanted. If I don't go to the interview, I won't have the opportunity again. Whether I really want to take the job or not, I should at least show up. Shouldn't I?
***
The building that houses Hudson Paragon Solutions is rather impressive, though it's certainly no Billionaires Club. Of course, it wouldn't be. This is a professional business, not a resort, and it looks every bit the part. I ride the elevator to the eleventh floor and then snake my way through a corridor before I come to the door with Hudson Paragon Solutions emblazoned on it in bold white letters.
Almost as soon as I step inside and give the receptionist my name, she whisks me away to a room where I'm pretty sure board meetings are held. There's a long table with several chairs around it and a projector mounted on the ceiling pointing to a screen against the far wall. My palms sweat as I wait for Carol Bryson, the CEO of Hudson Paragon Solutions, to show up. Never before have I felt this nervous for a job interview, though I'm not sure why. Landing the job isn't of paramount importance to me.
I called in to work this morning, pretending to be sick. Croix sounded genuinely worried, which made me feel guilty for lying. I couldn't pass up the chance to at least see what this job is about, though. No one has given me an opportunity besides Derrick and Bruno. Neither clubs were where I envisioned starting my career. I had always pictured myself working in a normal office, and by normal, I mean one not related to the sex industry.
Carol finally walks in looking pristine in a rose-colored women's suit. She's older than me by about twenty years, her short auburn hair styled back away from her face. She introduces herself, and we shake hands before she lays a file folder on top of the table, and we take our seats.
“You have a rather impressive resume.” She opens the file folder, pulling out the resume I emailed her and scanning over it. “It says here you graduated at the top of your class with honors.”
“Summa cum laude,” I say proudly. It's my greatest accomplishment to date.
“Your job history is a little less impressive.” The corners of her mouth dip and I feel my heart sink along with them. “I see here you worked in fast food all through high school. Then you were briefly the assistant director for a club in California that went out of business. Now you're the assistant director of The Billionaires Club, which hasn't even opened yet.”
I'm surprised by how well-researched she is. I'm also surprised by her boldness. In the span of a single paragraph, she pretty much told me I'm not good enough. Why am I here, then?
“What makes you want to leave The Billionaires Club?” she asks.
My stomach twists with anxiety. I don't want to leave The Billionaires Club, but there's a tiny voice in the back of my head saying it would be the best career move for me.
“It's not exactly the kind of place I saw my career taking off at,” I reply honestly.
“I imagine it wouldn't be.” She slips my resume back in the folder and closes it before she returns her attention to me. “Bright young girl working in a place like that. I'm guessing those were the only opportunities you've had up until now.”
“Yes.” I nod. Every good company wants to hire someone with experience. Even though I graduated with the highest honors, that wasn't enough.
It's already abundantly clear to me that she's not going to offer me the position. From that point on, I simply go through the motions, answering her questions as she asks them. We discuss what types of duties I performed at the two clubs and where I see myself in the future. Standard interview conversation. I respond on auto-pilot, knowing that nothing I say matters.
“We're always scouting for bright, young talent,” Carol tells me. “The children are our future, as they say.”
“That's true,” I agree absentmindedly.
“I think you're about as bright as they come, Miss Tarley.” She beams at me. “I'd like to offer you a position here at Hudson Paragon Solutions.”
“What?” My mouth falls agape. For a moment, I'm not sure I heard her right.
“Would you like that?” She nods at me like she's talking to a small child. It would normally annoy me, but I'm too shocked by the offer to feel anything else.
“You're offering me the assistant director position?” Surely, there's got to be some mistake. She already said that my job history wasn't impressive. Why would she want to hire me?
“I'm going to do better than that.” Carol lightly taps her fist on top of the table. “I'm going to offer you the managing director position.”
I nearly choke on my own disbelief. This is way more than I could have asked for. My heart is racing like a sprinter. It feels like I'm in a dream.
“What's the salary?” the ungrateful words leave my mouth before I have a chance to stop them.
If she's upset by the question, I can't tell. “Since you don't have a lot of experience under your belt, we'll start you off at $130,000. Is that sufficient?”
“More than sufficient.” I don't even hesitate. Right now, The Billionaire's Club is paying me $80,000. It's a big jump.
“So, what do you say? Are you on board?” She looks at me with confidence that she's won me over.
My gaze falls to the floor as I think about Croix and The Billionaires Club. I came here expecting nothing. Certainly not a job offer that came with a built-in promotion. I would be on Hudson Paragon Solutions' board of directors—at the top of their food chain. No other company would give me this kind of offer. I'm smart enough to know that. I wish I was smart enough to accept it without a second thought.
“Can I have some time to think about it?” I cower as I ask.
She quirks her head back slightly, obviously confused that I'm not jumping on the job like ants on an injured grasshopper. “You realize that this is a limited time offer? We're looking to fill the position before the end of the month. There are other candidates, some with much more experience.”
“I know. I'm sorry.” I squeeze my eyes shut, just knowing I'm fucking this up for myself.
“I'll give you until Monday. Let me know your answer by then or I'll offer the position to someone else.”
