Annihilate Me (Vol. 1) (The Annihilate Me Series) (3 page)

I
tried to keep myself composed.
 
“I’ve been here since May, and it’s been difficult to find a job.”

“You
are aware that the economy is in the toilet, aren’t you?”

“I
am.
 
I just thought that there would
be more opportunities here than in Maine.”

“Which
brings you to me today.”

“That’s
right.”

“Here’s
how I view this.
 
You want to answer
phones until you can find a better job.
 
Why would I waste my time on that?
 
That will just mean replacing your position sooner rather than later.”

I
could feel myself flush.
 
“Actually,
I was hoping this would be a way to get my foot in the door.
 
I was hoping that if I worked hard
enough at Wenn, that someone might see something in me that would allow for
other opportunities to open.”

“Is
that so?
 
And how long would you
give us for that to happen?
 
A few
weeks?
 
A couple of months?
 
Until you found work elsewhere?”

“If
the pay was decent, I’d wait until something good opened up.”

“Well,
that’s kind of you.”

“Ms.
Blackwell, I’m a good worker.
 
I
just need a chance.
 
If I don’t find
a job soon, I’ll need to move back to Maine and give up my dreams here.”

“And
that concerns me how?”
 
She tossed
the resume back on her desk.
 
“Look,
Ms. Kent.
 
I’m not looking for a
short-term hire.
 
I’m looking for
someone to fill this position for the long-term so I don’t have to fill it
again for another year or so.
 
Does
that make sense?
 
You’re not in
Maine anymore.
 
You’re in New
York.
 
It’s a big city filled with
lots of people just like you who are trying to find work.
 
Spare me the theatrics about “just
needing a chance.”
 
That’s already
being sold in every show on Broadway.
 
I suggest you get a ticket to a matinee and soak it up.”

What was her problem?
 
“Did I do something to
offend you?”

“You’ve
wasted my time.”

“Actually,
I think I walked into an argument.”

“You
think you walked into a what?”

“An
argument.
 
You were arguing when I
walked in.
 
Now, you’re taking it
out on me.
 
That’s unprofessional.
 
I’m not Charles, so please stop acting
as if I am.”

The
woman sat back in her chair and looked amused.
 
“Well, look at you, Maine.
 
Maybe you do have what it takes to make
it in the big city.
 
That’s quite a
mouth you have on you.”
 
She leaned
forward and a lock of her black hair fell into her face.
 
“But we’re not going to listen to it
here.
 
Have a nice day.”

Furious,
I stood.
 
Really?
 
A three-minute interview?
 
What had I done to deserve this?
 
How many times was I going to be
dismissed in this city?
 
I felt
another flash of anger, and directed it at this Blackwell bitch just as she had
directed her anger at me.
 
“Have a
swell divorce.
 
From where I sit, it
looks like Charles got away from a dragon.”

“Sweetheart,
you have no idea.
 
And thanks for
your resume.
 
I’ll be sure to call
all the headhunters I know around town and warn them about you.”

“So,
you’d like another lawsuit?”

“Oh,
please.
 
From what you told me, you
couldn’t afford it.
 
Goodbye, Ms.
Kent.
 
Goodbye and good luck.
 
Now, go on.
 
Close your mouth.
 
Ms. Blackwell is finished with you.
 
Toodles.”

CHAP
TE
R FOUR

Shaken
by the exchange, I left the woman’s office and walked blindly down the hallway
to the bank of elevators.
 
Dozens of
men and women either were walking toward me, or moving past me, and all of them
had jobs.
 
What
is wrong with me?
 
Why can’t I land
one?
 
I’m almost out of money.
 
If I don’t find something soon, I don’t
know what I’ll do.
 

I
felt tears sting my eyes, but I was damned if I was going to cry, so I blinked
them away.

You’re better than this.
 
This isn’t it for you.
 
That was all her.
 
Listen to Lisa.
 
Think about a waitressing gig.
 
That could give you the time you need to
get the job you want.
 
You’ve got
experience waitressing.
 
You need
the money.
 
Focus on that.

I
went to one of the elevators and pressed the down button.
 
Despite the air conditioning, I felt
hotter than I had in my apartment.
 
I stood waiting for the elevator to come, and couldn’t help but hear my
father’s voice in my head.

You’re gonna fail, you know?
 
You’re gonna fail and you’re gonna come
runnin’ back to us.
 
Well, here’s
the deal, girl.
 
We might not have
you back if you fail.
 
Your mother
and I might just be fine without you.
 
Think about that if you leave.

It
was, in fact, that conversation which convinced me to leave.
 
Lisa and I had graduated the week
before.
 
I called to tell her what
my father had said, and by the end of that week, we had secured our shitty
little apartment through a Realtor in New York, we had packed Lisa’s
ten-year-old Golf, which we long ago nicknamed Gretta, and we had left Maine
and our former lives behind,

“Gretta
will get us out of here,” Lisa said when we hit I-95 South.
 
“She might be old, but she never lets me
down.
 
We’ll do this together.
 
My book is finished, the cover is
killer, but the text needs a solid proof from you before I load it onto
Amazon.
 
Who knows what will happen
to it?
 
Maybe it’ll hit.
 
But even if it doesn’t, we have each
other, just as we always have.
 
We’ll figure this out together.
 
Don’t let your drunk ass of a father derail you from your dreams.
 
And, please, don’t let him get further
into your head and fuck you up more than he already has.”

Easier
said than done.
 
My father’s words
haunted me every bit as much now as they always did.
 
Maybe he saw the real Jennifer Kent.
 
Maybe he saw me for who I really
was—a failure.
 
Someone who
after four months couldn’t land a damn job in one of the world’s largest cities
to save her life.

The
elevator doors whisked open.
 
No one
was inside, which was a blessing.
 
I
entered the car, pressed the button for the lobby, and leaned back against the
elevator wall.
 

I’m not going to cry.

But
I did.
 
I was angry, I was
overwhelmed, and I felt that I had no choice but to find a job as a server at a
fine-dining restaurant.
 
This, of
course, would mean another round of interviews because I needed to find a great
restaurant that paid well.
 
I felt
deflated at the prospect of having to start all over again.
 
My eyes again started to well up in
frustration.
 

To
my horror, just when my emotions got the best of me, the elevator slowed as it
approached the forty-seventh floor.
 
I quickly wiped the tears from my eyes, worrying that in the process I
had smeared my mascara, and I lowered my head as the doors opened so no one
could see the truth on my face about how deeply sad, angry, and desperate I
was.

Only
I wasn’t so quick.
 
For an instant,
the man who stepped inside the car locked eyes with me.
 
He looked at me with concern, saw that
the button for the lobby was already lit, and stood next to me.

The
doors slid shut.
 
An uncomfortable
silence stretched between us.

He
was gorgeous.
 
Of course, he
was.
 
Why wouldn’t he be
gorgeous?
 
Why should the universe
stop kicking my ass now?

It
only took a glance to see how handsome he was.
 
Probably six-foot-two, gleaming dark
hair raked away from a chiseled face peppered with stubble, full lips, and eyes
that were the color of the sea.
 
They were his best feature—blue-green and framed by thick lashes.
 
I’d seen plenty of attractive men during
my time in Manhattan, the lot of which I ignored because I needed to find a job
before I even thought about the prospect of dating.
 
But this man was beyond my type.
 
Given my overwhelming streak of good
luck, naturally I was a complete mess when he first saw me.

Get me out of here.
 
Please, just let the elevator move
faster and get me to the street.
 
I’ll walk home in the heat.
 
I don’t care.
 
Just get me
out of here now.

“I’m
sorry,” he said.
 
“But are you all
right?”

Fuck my life.
 
“I’m afraid my allergies
have gotten the best of me today.
 
My eyes are burning.”

“Is
that it?”

He knows better.
 
He knows I’m lying.
 
So, what the hell?
 
He’s a stranger.
 
According to Ms. Blackwell, I’ll never
see her or him again.
 
Why not burn
her while I have the chance?
 
Maybe
it’ll get back to her.

“Actually,
that’s not true.”

“What
is true?”

“I
came here for a secretarial job.
 
I
have my master’s degree in business, I’ve been in New York since May, and
nothing has worked out.
 
I can’t
find a job.
 
Apparently—according to Ms. Blackwell on the fifty-first floor, who
obviously is so pissed that she’s going through a nasty divorce that she took
it out on me—I can’t even take phone calls or manage a filing
system.
 
Give me a break.
 
I was hoping to get my foot in the door
here and work my way up, but today turned out to be just another day of
disappointment.”
 
I looked at him,
saw what looked like irritation on his face, and managed a smile.
 
“Sorry to vent.”

“I’m
the one who asked the question.
 
You
met with Ms. Blackwell?”

“Yes,
but don’t go near her.
 
She’s Hell
on Earth.
 
She threatened contact
the headhunters she knows in the city and warn them about me.”

His
brow furrowed.
 
I could see the
anger in his eyes.
 
“Why would she
do that?”

“Because
she couldn’t imagine why I’d be interested in a low-level job that I’m over-qualified
for.
 
She said I’d wasted her
time.
 
We exchanged words.
 
It wasn’t pretty, but she wasn’t
professional.
 
She made it
personal.
 
So, now I’ll be damaged
goods to any headhunter I might reach out to.”

“What
she did is libelous.”

“It
is.
 
Not that I can do anything
about it.
 
I’m broke.”
 
I took a breath and changed the
subject.
 
This guy wasn’t only
smoking hot, but he seemed kind and sincere, not unlike the cab driver who
brought me here.
 
I loved this
city.
 
But right now?
 
Because of Blackwell?
 
It could go to Hell.
 

I
reached behind my head and released the clip that had held my hair up and away
from my face.
 
I shook it out and
let it fall over my shoulders in soft brown waves.
 
It felt freeing.