Page 18 of Of Blood and Smoke

“The so-called ‘fine print’ in the application was a bit unnerving but this is the opportunity of a lifetime. I hearthe pay is crazy high,” Ashley said. “We could even get nicer apartments.”

Sitting down on the edge of my bed, I warned my friend, “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

NINE

Della

Melinda had called me while I was making myself breakfast. My dad needed what she said was a “higher level of care.” Our insurance wouldn’t cover all his expenses, not enough to help him get better or provide any optimism. Jokingly, I’d asked Melinda to move in with us but that went about as expected. Where would she stay? We had no room.

All I had left was the hope that I’d get this new job and make as much money as Ashley dreamed we would. Everything hinged on the interview I was now headed to.

Sitting on the train, I prayed. I begged whoever was listening that I’d get this job and that my dad would be fine. It almost seemed like too much to ask for everything to go back to how it was, but I asked for that, too.

I saw a religious YouTube video once where people’s legs grew longer, and they leaped out of their wheelchairs. Deep in my heart I knew what I’d watched was fake, but it didn’t stop me from dreaming or pleading for miracles. Just because something wasn’t probable, that didn’t mean it wasn’tpossible.

My ride finally arrived at the appropriate station, and I exited, following the mass of people to the stairs. When I cameout into the sunlight, I was blinded for a moment and paused to get my bearings. Looking down at my outfit, I told myself I looked good and started walking. My black dress pants were mostly wrinkle-free, and my red blouse was stylish and classy. My long, thick hair was defying the humidity and remained smooth enough I looked polished.

Everything was going to be okay.

At first glance, the address didn’t appear to be a cutting-edge medical company. The building was similar to the super-expensive residences near Central Park, and I double checked my information. Suitably convinced, I approached the door, and an attendant opened it for me, directing me to the foyer.

The woman at the counter checked my identification and when she began tapping away at a screen, I took in the lobby. Not only did the exterior of the company look like a residence, but the interior did as well. There was rich detailing everywhere, between the crown molding, upholstered couches, leather chairs, and marble flooring. It was luxurious.

A refrigerator with a glass front displayed bottles of Evian and other beverages and a full coffee bar was set up to the left. I wanted to ask if the food and drinks were free, but I refrained.

After a minute, the woman spoke. “You’ll be escorted upstairs shortly.” She immediately turned away and busied herself.

“Thank you,” I said, even though she’d already dismissed me.

The second I sat down, someone stepped into the foyer. “Miss DuBois, please come this way.”

I hopped up and quickly strode across the floor. The man who’d called my name looked like law enforcement with his crew cut hair and navy-blue suit. He even had an earpiece in. It seemed odd until I thought about the massive amounts of potentially mind-altering substances the company was known for producing.

He took us to an elevator and afterward left me in an empty waiting room furnished with decor like the entry lobby and shut the door. There was a discreet gilded plaque in the corner letting visitors know audio and video recording was in session.

I made a mental note not to scratch my nose or fiddle with my bra and sat back on a wide recliner and unlocked my phone. Overly aware someone could watch what I was scrolling, I tilted my phone as close to me as I could and then I realized that it would look suspicious and tucked my phone away. Making a good impression and interviewing well were crucial.

At exactly ten o clock, the door opened, and I was ushered out by a woman who introduced herself as Christina. She began speaking immediately. “It's nice to meet you, Della. Today’s interview is less formal than usual, you’ll be meeting with a panel of five of our managers.”

We turned down a long hallway. “Five?” That sounded rather formal to me.

She tilted her head, giving me a smile. “Don’t be nervous, it's just to make sure you're a good fit and facilitate your entry into the correct position. You’ll do great.”

Christina paused before a set of doors, knocked twice, and then opened one as she took a step back. “Della DuBois has arrived,” she announced.

I bit my tongue as nervous laughter threatened to spill over my lips. “Arrived”? What kind of interview was this?

“Thank you,” I told the woman and passed over the threshold.

Five men were seated on one side of a table and a lone chair was positioned facing them. One of the men swept his hand out, indicating it was my seat. Swallowing, I followed directions, trying and failing to make myself comfortable. When I cleared my throat, the sound was unnaturally loud.

Two of the men sat perfectly still, one of them wearing sunglasses causing me to do a double take. The three other men shifted in their seats before one tugged some papers across the table and straightened them. Another held a tablet and was scrolling with a pen.

No one spoke a word until the man with the papers broke the absolute silence. There hadn’t been even the signature drone of florescent lights. Peeking up, I noticed everything was LED lighting and sincerely hoped the light would be softer where I’d be working.

IfI’d be working here. So far, with the intense atmosphere, I wasn’t so sure about my chances.

“Miss Dubois,” the man with the print-out began. “Thank you for your inquiry. We’ve been looking at your data and it appears you’ve left some pertinent information behind you.”

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