Page 19 of Wreckin' Amethyst

“You’re going now?! We’re already running late because I was caught up at the dealership,” Carter throws another glare my way, as if him needing to replace his sports car was somehow my fault. Oh wait... Regardless, I’ve moved onto a cup of steaming mocha, sleep be dammed. Pinching the bridge of his nose, Carter’s sharp features seem to age before my eyes. A sigh echoes around the empty space in his chest as he addresses Owen once more. “You know what day it is.”

“Exactly. That’s why I made sure I was busy.” Owen winks while taking the mug from my hand and places a quick kiss on my forehead. Then he’s gone, and Pig is left whining for him. Sebby bumps into Owen halfway down the hall, being handed the now empty mug on his way towards us.

“Um, Carter? The applicants are all waiting in the lounge area. Should I call the first one through?”

“Applicants?” I sit up straighter. My nipples push against the t-shirt, still opting to laze around in Myles’ boxers. If he wants me here, everyone needs to get used to me not wearing underwear a majority of the time. “For the fifth Elite? How exciting.” Standing, Carter pushes my shoulder to knock me back onto the stool.

“Unless you’re applying, you’re not invited,” he growls, his shining dress shoes already moving. Sebby tries to warn me to leave it be, but his warning has the opposite effect. Taking Pig with me, I follow Carter into the dining area, which has been set up as a formal interview space by the Elites hovering around. Today, they’re dressed in smart pantsuits in a similar shade of navy blue to Carter’s. The redhead rushes forward on skinny heels to help Carter remove his jacket and place it over the back of the chair he sits upon. I throw up in my mouth a little.

Peering at the top brown folder on a stack before him, Carter calls for ‘Anita Dobson’. Two Elites by the doors blocking us from the lounge rush to pry them open, allowing a slip of a girl to enter before closing them on all other curious gazes peering in. I don’t know what I expected, but the too-tight cocktail dress as black as her long, straight hair wasn’t it. The most striking detail is the clunky flat shoes she’s chosen to pair with her glamorous evening attire. I haven’t seen buckles like that since learning about the Pilgrims.

“Hi, I’m Anita,” she gives a small wave. “I’m very excited to meet you all.” Lowering into the singular chair across the table, I find myself also sitting beside Carter. He mutters at me to fuck off but I’m too invested. Too intrigued. Sebby takes Carter’s other side, while the Elites curtsey and make their way into the kitchen. There’s plenty of mess to keep them entertained while we conduct business in here.

“Thank you for coming,” Carter smiles. The expression looks strange on his face. Downright creepy. “As you are aware and have already signed the NDA agreement to agree to, this position is for a coveted spot as one of Myles Hudson’s Elites. The job is a full time role, working four-days a week on rota with the other girls. In addition to an unbeatable salary, you’ll receive full coverage of healthcare expenses for the time you’re with us, a private pension, and live on site. Not to mention, invites to some of the most exclusive events and parties, accompanying Mr. Hudson wherever he deems fit to have a date.”

“Doesn’t seem like he’s deeming anything from this side of the table,” I mutter beneath my breath. Carter’s jaw ticks but he keeps face in front of the girl gaping at him like he shits glitter and owns the pot of gold at the end of every rainbow.

“I’ll quickly run you through the process before we get started,” Carter nods, kicking my ankle beneath the table. Crossing my legs beneath me, Pig curls up in my lap to fall asleep. Lucky bitch. “Today, we’re conducting the formal interviews. Those shortlisted will be subject to a full credit and health check, including STD testing. Next will come a trial day here with the current Elites, ensuring you all get along well and are able to keep up with their workload. The decision on who reaches the final stage will be down to myself, Sebastian Lloyd,” Carter gestures to Sebby, “Owen Grayson and the other Elites.”

“Shouldn’t Myles be present, considering his opinion is the only one that should matter?” I ask out loud. Anita’s perfectly sculpted brows twitch, a general disdain emanating over this side of the table. The feeling is mutual.

“Only once we’ve vetted, tested and selected the best applicants for Mr. Hudson, does he choose who he’s most attracted to,” Carter replies to Anita as if she were the one to ask the question. “This prevents him from picking some insignificant whore off the streets.” All eyes in the room quickly flash in my direction and I burst out laughing. Pig joins in, with a jolted howl. Sebby’s face pleads with me to behave, yet by the way Carter is glaring daggers, it would seem I am rather significant after all.

When no one else speaks, I simmer down and gesture for the interview to continue. It starts out pretty basic, with Carter inquiring about Anita’s employment history, her strengths and weaknesses. Aspirations, priorities. I grow so bored listening to the rehearsed dribble, I slide Anita’s file across to read through her resumé.

Keen archer? Not with those nails.

Miss Teen South Carolina? Studying Anita’s face, I note how, every so often, one of her eyes drifts a millimeter to the side before she blinks to correct it. With closer inspection, I reckon the artistry of her brows is to cover the mess a patch would leave for her lazy eye. Not a look Miss Teen USA would sport strolling down the runway, especially in flat shoes. I call bullshit.

“Can I ask a question of my own?” I butt in over something Carter was saying. Couldn’t have been too important, since he’s already jotted in his notepad she’s an ideal candidate. Anita blinks, unsure of who to look at, but Carter grinds his jaw shut and allows me to ask it anyway.

“I’m curious, considering the lack of funds you must have had to come to a Billionaire’s home dressed in an outfit from Target, why you chose to have your nose fixed instead of your lazy eye?” Anita’s back bolts upright, her mouth popping open. “Because to me, I would have gone for the medical issue before the cosmetic.” And there it is, the answer written all over her worried expression. “Ahh, it was a medical issue. Let me guess, deviated septum? Cocaine will do that too you. How long have you been clean?”

Anita slams both hands over her nose, a little too hard because her eyes start to water. Eyes which will no longer meet any of ours.

“Not clean then. I’m sorry, but I think one addict under this roof is enough, don’t you?” I tilt my head, Anita drops her head into her hands and excuses herself, cutting a wonky line through the kitchen where the blonde Elite begins to console her. I should feel bad for her, but Myles doesn’t need any more stains on his already ambiguous record. Best twist the blade and send a final message.

“Maybe try again when your dirty habit is under control!” I shout before she’s walked out of view. Again, evil glares slam into me and roll off my back like droplets of water.

“That was quite invigorating actually,” I beam. “Who’s next?” Reaching over Carter, we enter into a game of slapsies which lands me back into my seat. Pig is jostled in all sorts of directions until she grows bored and belly flops onto the floor.

“Why are you even here?” Carter hisses. The bitterness of his tone is sharp enough to cut through the tension he radiates, like a viper about to strike. And the fact it does nothing to affect me riles him up even further.

“I’m looking out for Myles’ best interest,” I shrug.

“No, that’s what I’m doing.” Carter slams the next file on the table, scanning the contents. Placing my hand over the page, I force his venomous green eyes back up to mine.

“Manufacturing a life which is easy to oversee and control isn’t for Myles’ best interest. It's for yours.”

“Maybe it’s good to have her perceptiveness on hand,” Sebby tries to muscle in on the icy moment of strong wills battering against one another. “Cause you know…it takes a con-artist to spot a con, right?” I smirk, unable to argue. Carter growls like an animal, shoving the file towards me.

“Fine.” Crossing his suit arms, I tuck my smile behind my shoulder. Someone is used to throwing a tantrum and getting his own away. Watching him stress himself into a coma is going to be the highlight of my time here, however long I decide to stay.

Calling out the next name, Lily Blackmon, the same pair of Elites appear to open and close the sliding doors. Unlike the stick insect who just left, a real woman enters the dining room. Cute summer dress, mousey brown hair which needs a trim. She hasn’t applied a face full of make-up as I imagine all the other barbie’s have, and I instantly respect her for it.

“Oh honey,” I frown at the reddened cuticles she tries to hide. Within an instant, her bottom lip is pulled between her teeth and those hands are back in front of her, picking and fidgeting before she’s even sat down. I understand the stress of poverty. I’ve been there myself. “How bad is it?”

“They…they’re about to repossess the house. I have a four-year-old daughter.” Her eyes glaze with tears. Sympathizing, I reach across to pluck the pen from Carter’s top pocket and flip her resumé over.

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