Page 336 of Evil Hearts

Cynthia giggled as she grabbed a slice of pizza and curled up in her beanbag. “You need this job. Not saying you’re a broke bitch. I’m saying you need something good to happen to you. You’ve had so much shit after shit happen to you lately,” she said between bites of pizza. “First your ex, then when your job laid you off, and when the temp place refused to give you a permanent position. You need this.”

I nodded as I took a bite of my cheese sticks. “Yeah, it will be a good opportunity, too. Did you see? Full benefits on the first day on the job?”

“You’re going to be able to go to the doc in style!” she exclaimed.

I slapped the table. “Yeah, I’ll be like ‘test me for everything, bitches!’”

“That’s the dream.” She sighed loudly before taking another bite. “Healthcare sucks.”

I tapped my glasses. “New glasses time.”

“Oooh, bitch. Jealous. Fuck, the cheese is perfect today!”

I hummed in agreement and nodded my head. “Good pizza. Good luck. Good interview tomorrow. Yes, yes.”

“Too bad we don’t have any booze to celebrate!”

“I’ll get some on my way home when I get the job. We’ll celebrate correctly,” I said. We spent the rest of the night joking and eating before going to bed.

Vena

Ipulled my sweaterover my wide hips as I walked into the office. A desk of deep mahogany was on the far side of the room. The large glass windows let copious amounts of light in and the posing babies in flowers on the wall made it look comforting. I immediately relaxed. A man stood up from a desk and smiled. He messed with the button of his blazer as he stood up. His slicked back hair glinted in the sunlight and he smiled warmly. “Ah, Vena Carter?”

I grinned as I extended my hand. I had a good feeling about this. “Yes. That’s me. Nice to meet you. And you are?” I asked.

“Mr. Smith. Let’s get you to the conference room,” he replied as he led me down a hallway towards an elevator door. My brows furrowed because it looked like a one-story building.

“Where are we going?” I looked around as I stepped into the elevator.

He tapped the B button. “The conference room is in the basement.”

“Oh. Funny. Not a lot of basements in this area.”

“Well, we have one,” he said as he tried to brush off my comment. It seemed defensive, which was odd. It was merely an observation. After having a lot of job interviews, this was unique. Why would they have interviews down here?

An icy dread settled in my stomach, a feeling like ice water, but I ignored it. I tried to remind myself that Cynthia and I looked up the business. It was safe; I was fine. The lobby was covered in smiling babies. Bad people wouldn’t dothat.The elevator heaved to a stop, and the doors opened. He led me down the dark hallway in silence, the only sound our echoing footsteps. My heart pounded with more nervous energy than I should have had. There was a door illuminated by electric sconces at the end of the hallway, and he opened it. I stepped in and noticed a few men and one woman sat around a large table. There were two empty chairs, one of which was white. The woman motioned towards the white one.

“Ah, Ms. Carter, here’s your seat,” she said.

With a nod, I eased myself down into the plush chair, feeling its softness against my back. I scooted in the chair with my back straight as I prepared myself to start answering questions. I hated interviews. No matter what I did, I always managed to screw them up, leaving a trail of mistakes in my wake. That’s what I convinced myself, the silence from potential employers a constant, nagging reminder of my perceived failings. Just one wrong word. My heart thumped in my chest as I smiled at the table of strangers. This was the most people I had ever interviewed with. Normally, it was one or two people. I tried to quell the anxiety inside me.

A bald man slipped a form in front of me. “Could you tell me some of your experience while you fill this out?” he asked. My eyes searched his lapel for a badge or name tag, but his dark blue suit was bereft of one.

I grabbed a pen from him and tilted my head as I wrote my name and information in the boxes. “I’ve done a bit of everything, really. Daycares, barista, camp counselor, retail. If it can be done with a high school diploma, I’ve done it.”

Another man asked, “What drew you to our place?” I turned my head as I tried to figure out who was talking to me. Was this a way to see how well I did under tense situations? The man that asked had a dark beard which shined with beard oil. It was obvious he took pride in his looks. Even his suit looked more expensive than anyone else in the room.

My brows furrowed. That icky feeling in the pit of my stomach didn’t like that they didn’t introduce themselves to me. They were just nameless strangers interrogating me about my life. “The flyer. All things I can do, great pay and benefits. You don’t know what good benefits can do to entice someone.”

A wry laugh filled the room, and I smiled awkwardly. “Yes, our benefits are excellent,” the bald man said. His fingers tapped against the table as he watched me.

I nodded as I filled out the paperwork. I quickly finished it and slid it across the table. One man leaned forward. “Would you say you are close to your family?”

“Nope. Cut off. Toxic. I prioritize my mental well-being over blood,” I said sharply. A slow smile crept onto the bearded man’s face and I realized that was the wrong thing to say. I think I just stamped my head with ‘hard to work with.’ I quickly tried to figure out what would have been a better way to word it in a company-friendly way, but it wouldn’t matter. The harm was done.

“Would you say you are a people person? Always making friends?”

My mouth pulled to one side in a thoughtful expression as I considered a professional way to reply. “I’d say that I get along with everyone, but I cherish close and personal friends. I’d rather make one solid connection versus multiple surface-level connections,” I said in my most professional tone. It was much better than saying I didn’t have many friends.

---