Page 2 of Anything To Be With You

"Come on, Dani, it’s good pay, amazing benefits and he’s not bad to look at either," Erin replies and makes a clicking noise.

I shake my head, smiling.

Erin has been happily married to Jake for almost seven years, but she likes to live vicariously through me and my single ass. Which has been going on…six years now.

I run a hand down my face. "Oh, all right. Send them my resume." I sigh.

She screams into the phone. "Oh, I knew you would agree! I’ll text you with the time and date once I have it, talk soon, love you." She makes kissing noises into the phone and hangs up.

I close my laptop and drag my ass upstairs to go through my closet to see if I have any half decent, office appropriate, clothes. I might have to go shopping; I can hear my credit card crying already. Digging through the closet, I find five pairs of slacks, a dress, and three skirts. I only own one pair of heels and a pair of flats. I need dress shirts and shoes.

I change out of my pajamas, and into a pair of leggings and an old plaid shirt of Mason’s, putting my honey blonde hair in a ponytail. I hate trying on clothes, but with my breast and hip size, I need to. Shirts don’t sit right when you’re top heavy, and pants, if they fit my waist, they’re too big on the legs and vice versa.

I head down the stairs, swiping my purse off the end of the banister and walk out the door. I get into my incredibly old, held-together-with-duct-tape Honda Accord and say a little prayer. If I get this job, my first cheque is going towards a new-to-me car. I turn the key and after a few choice curses and a punch on the dashboard, it sputters to life.

My phone buzzes on the passenger seat.

Erin: Tomorrow at nine am.

The address comes next.

I let out a breath.

I can do this; I can do this.

I head over to the Eaton Centre, the biggest mall in Toronto, much to the displeasure of my credit card.

Two hours and seven hundred dollars later, I have enough shirts, three more pairs of shoes, and another two dresses to keep me clothed for a month. I toss the bags from Kate Spade New York and Nordstrom’s on my bed and flop down face first, groaning.

Shopping zaps all my energy.

Propping myself up on my elbows, I open my phone and Google Luke Archer. I should learn a few things about the man that could very well be my boss as of tomorrow. My eyes nearly pop out of my head when his picture comes on the screen. This man is breathtakingly beautiful.

Not a word used to describe men much, but hot diggity damn. Tall, muscular, dirty blond hair. Eye’s the colour of a glacier and just as cold. I feel anxious just looking at his picture.

I scan the articles about him. He’s an asshole when it comes to dealing with his cases and apparently his staff. He only has one original staff member and that’s his receptionist.

In every picture I’ve seen, he has not smiled once. I guess after years of dealing with bitter divorces, you lose your reason to smile. I keep reading about him, looking at pictures of him and his woman, Sarah Hart. The last picture was from four years ago at a banquet. She is tall and slender, with jet black hair cut into a straight blunt bob that ends at her chin and has a look about her that screams entitled bitch.

I keep scrolling and the more I read, the more I realize that he’s a complete dick. The way he acts towards other people, the way he carries himself and the high opinion he has of himself. He comes from an extensive line of lawyers, his father, grandfather, great-grandfather, etcetera.

He has a younger brother, Gabriel, who is in the hospitality and tourism business, working for a few hotels in the city and managing another on Front Street. He is the complete opposite of his older brother. His hair is longer, more golden than dirty blond, his smile is charming, and he has one dimple in his left cheek. Makes me wonder if Luke has dimples too. I will say this, they both fill out a suit very nicely.

I find story after story about Luke Archer, and I come across a message board about working for Archer law firm. I open it and gasp. Over fifty pages of people complaining about Luke. I can’t see him being that bad. I scan through the posts when one catches my attention.

"Archer law firm is the absolute worst place to work. Luke is like an attack dog; you make one mistake and he’s on you like flies on shit. I was there for two hours and had my ass chewed out for an hour and a half all because I didn’t know how he took his coffee. How was I supposed to know he took it black with one sugar? No one fucking told me. There are only two good things about the company, the pay, and his receptionist Carrie."

I read the rest of the comments, trying to learn as much about him as I can. The more I read, the more I’m starting to debate whether I truly want this job. I haven’t read one nice thing about Luke. I’m starting to second guess going to this interview.

I call Erin. If anyone can talk me into doing this, it’s her.

"Heeeelllllooooo." She sings.

"I’m getting cold feet."

Erin sighs loudly into the phone. "You’ll be fine, Dani. This isn’t your first rodeo."

"I know that but read up on him. He’s a huge asshole with an attitude." I state.

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