4. Haelyn
FOUR
HAELYN
When my mother and I moved from the underprivileged depths of Compton to Los Angeles, I spent the first two weeks looking for a job. We didn’t have any money besides the two hundred dollars she had hidden from my father, but that was enough for a month’s rent.
At first, I ran from one side of the city to the other to find a job, which allowed me to see most of Los Angeles in a short time. Unfortunately, that also cost me my last moments with her.
Now I was on an unknown side of Los Angeles, the GPS on my phone directing me to a street full of life despite the early hours. Each sidewalk was packed with locals and tourists, bumping each other to get on the other side as if the day was rushing to pass.
My eyes swept over the tall brick buildings that seemed to end far into the clouds when a honk startled me. I flinched, looking to my left where a driver was angrily waving his hand at me.
My lips offered him a shaky smile. “Sorry,” I murmured, even though he couldn’t hear me.
While I fought the wind to remove strands of hair from my face, I continued my path on the crosswalk until I reached my destination.
I placed a foot on the small staircase in front of the entry of the glass building, my gaze rising once again.
How many people work inside a place like this? There had to be at least five hundred to fill it. What was I saying? Even a thousand wouldn’t be enough for how high the top of the Graves Automobile facility was.
“I want it back in thirty minutes,” I heard a female voice say, and my head snapped to my right where a doorman in uniform took a car key from a beautiful lady. The man opened the door for her with a nod, then the woman walked inside with the air of a model.
My phone pinged in my purse and I fished it out, looking at the screen where two messages were displayed.
Merielle
Good luck! I love you.
Chad Bitt
You got this, stop underestimating yourself and show them who Haelyn Ross is.
A smile pushed the corners of my mouth upwards as I texted Chad back.
Me
thanks. I’m shaking in my boots rn *grimace emoji*
With trembling legs, I entered the building, the big doors sliding open in front of me. The moment I stepped inside, a bodyguard approached me. My breath got caught in my throat.
“Miss, can I see your ID?” he asked, extending his hand toward me.
“Yeah. Yes. Sure,” I mumbled, taking the purse I hooked over my shoulder and searching for my wallet. “I have an interview,” I found myself saying. As soon as I took out my ID he glanced at it, then back at me.
“You’re expected at the fiftieth floor, Miss Ross.”
“Thank you.” I gave him a smile, then went to the left—I didn’t know why—and put my identification card back.
“Miss Ross?”
I turned around at his voice. “Yes?”
“The elevator is that way.” He pointed his large hand to the right.
“Right.” I nodded, then walked past him with a last, “thank you.”
The reception was the first thing that came into view, large icons of a car were placed everywhere in the lobby. A few women stood behind the desk as employees speed-walked with papers in their hands, but careful enough not to stumble over each other.
“Hi.” I waved at the women, but they just stared at me like I was some kind of an anomaly.
I couldn’t care less. Politeness was a quality a few had and I didn’t hesitate showing it. So if I had to say hi and get nothing in return, then so be it. At least I was respectful enough to greet people when I entered a place.
I walked further, finding the elevator and pushing the button for the fiftieth floor. It stopped a few times and more people dressed as if they worked for the government walked in and out. Yet by the time I got to the last floor, I remained alone.
Huh. Strange.
The last floor must be for interviews only. It seemed like this company had a lot of interviews considering the large space.
“Miss Ross?” My name was called the moment the elevator pinged and I stepped out of it. A much smaller reception caught my view, an older woman sitting behind it with a smile. “Mr. Graves is waiting for you in the office.” She pointed her finger at the hallway to my left.
“Thank you.”
Before walking away, my eyes jumped to the clock behind the woman. It’s 7:55 a.m. I arrived here on time. With a confident smile, I arranged the white shirt I had on, and with each step I took, the heels I borrowed from Merielle thumped on the floor.
I inhaled sharply, stopping inches from the only office in here where the light was switched on. I threw the strawberry gum into the small trash so I wouldn’t be tempted to chew it during the interview.
You’ve got this.
After five years of switching jobs constantly, you’d think I would be less nervous about an interview and here I was, my knees shaking as if I ran here. My chest rose and fell with rapid breaths and I placed a hand on top of it to calm it down.
Go now if you don’t want to be late.
I plastered a smile on my face and stepped in front of the glass door, my fist knocking gently right under the nameplate that read, ‘Tristan Graves, CEO’.
For a company as big as this was, I thought the interviews would be passed on to someone else and not the boss itself, but then, I didn’t really know much about this world.
The man behind the desk lifted his gaze to me and all of a sudden, my legs shook for a completely different reason besides the stress of the interview. The sharp features of his face morphed into a dull expression, and while his jaw was firm, mine worked back and forth in nervousness.
“Come in.” His domineering and strong voice boomed outside of the office.
My lips trembled in a smile and I opened the door with a solid grip, closing it as soon as I found myself inside the room. The first breath I took in his presence was shaky, my lungs drawing warm air inside my lungs.
Was it hot in his office or was I burning?
Mr. Graves’ office was no different than a cave, with a black floor and walls, maroon desk and chair, and a pile of files that sat next to his laptop.
“Hello,” I finally said. “I’m Haelyn Ross.” I extended my hand to him while my eyes couldn’t help but steal another glance at his face.
His green eyes remained pointed on my own as his palm brushed mine in a handshake. Mr. Graves’ grip made my hand seem the size of a child’s.
The contact didn’t last long, because he removed his touch and moved his entire attention to the papers in front of him. He pushed a button on the edge of his desk and the room darkened even more.
I threw a look over my shoulder, noticing that the glass had turned a shade of black. By my guess, you were able to see only shapes from outside.
When my gaze found its way back to Mr. Graves, he raised his brows at me and I realized it was because of the squint on my face.
A sigh escaped his mouth as he muttered, “Privacy reasons,” then he dropped his head back into the file.
Before I could stop myself, I opened my mouth. “But…no one comes here.”
His head lifted once again and this time, when his eyes met mine, there’s nothing of that welcoming gaze he had when I walked inside—even if cold—it’s just pure boredom.
My chin lowered to my chest and I was glad I didn’t have gum to move it from one part of my mouth to the other. If giving unrequired opinions didn’t annoy him, that surely would’ve.
I could see why he’s the boss. He’s straightforward, not an ounce of interest in chit-chat, and he didn’t need more than one look to make you understand who’s in charge.
The muscles under his custom-made suit stole my gaze before my eyes dropped onto the shiny, expensive watch on his wrist. He didn’t even acknowledge my staring.
Mr. Graves was as cold as a frozen lake. If you broke the ice at the top and sank, you died of hypothermia. I had a feeling it was the same case with Tristan Graves.
“You’ve been observing, I see,” he murmured, his pen sliding on the documents.
I kept my mouth shut, not wanting to make this any worse. Without me fucking it up entirely, I still had a solid chance to get whatever job they were offering.
Mr. Graves relaxed in his seat, pushing his chair back. “Previous jobs?”
This man had the looks, but he wasn’t the type to waste time with a proper sentence. Again, I kept that thought to myself.
“Coffee and flower shops, libraries, babysitter, fast food, restaurants, mechanic, everything you could ever think of.” My hands intertwined under his desk, hidden from his view.
No muscle on his face twitched when he heard I had worked as a mechanic, not even a small reaction. I waited for him to question me about the cars like most men I met have done.
Five seconds passed and nothing came in.
He doesn’t give a flying fuck, does he?
“What would you say is your best leverage when it comes to working?”
Leverage. That’s a new word. It seemed like his vocabulary wasn’t that limited after all. I took a second to think about it, picturing a day working at the sportswear shop.
“That would have to be my ability to persuade a person. I’m really good when it comes to people,” I told him, pushing my chest out.
His eyes scanned my face for a mere moment, the smallest flicker of curiosity flashing over his features–his round lips pursed, and his perfectly sculpted nose twitched.
You knew what they said about noses, right? The bigger the nose, the bigger the?—
Stop.
This is wrong.
I was in the middle of the interview and my brain decided to imagine how big my potential boss’s dick was.
I suppressed a sigh.
Merielle was right, I needed to get laid.
“All right.” He handed me a paper. “Check the boxes with the jobs you’d be interested in and we’ll call you.”
My eyes swept over the options and I checked those that I thought would fit me, even though I didn’t have that much experience in any of the jobs offered. I was a quick learner, though, so that shouldn’t be a problem.
He took it back and I was expecting him to say something about me checking every little box, but he stood silent and placed the document over the pile next to him.
“Thank you.” I smiled and he simply nodded his head at me. “I look forward to hearing from you.”
When he didn’t seem like he wanted to say anything else, I sat up and found my way out of his office, clicking the door shut after me.
That was… interesting.
I took a few steps forward, glancing at the clock the same way I did when I walked inside. It’s been exactly seven minutes and five of them were not even part of the interview.
The truth was, I didn’t know if I could even call it an interview because Mr. Graves only asked me questions to which the answers could be easily found in my CV.
What happened to ‘Why do you want to work for us?’ or ‘What makes you a good candidate?’
I either screwed my shot as soon as I got inside or… maybe that’s the way things work in the rich world. They might not care about who they hire since they can replace anyone pretty quickly.
My lips released a sigh and I took my phone out, dialing Merielle. She answered after the second ring.
“Don’t tell me you’re late, Hae.” I heard her exhale sharply into the speaker as I entered the elevator where a low song was playing.
“No,” was all I said.
“What happened? You don’t sound okay.”
I skimmed my eyes over the metal surroundings, not really knowing what to tell her because I wasn’t sure of what actually happened in that office.
“I was here early, but the interview is already done.”
Silence. A muffled sound reached my ear before her voice did. “But it’s 8:03.”
“Yeah,” I breathed out, glancing down at my heels. “Are you home?” I asked her when the doors opened and I walked out of the elevator.
“Yes, David invited Christian over if you want to come.”
“I’ll be there.” I hung up the phone and when I put it back in my purse, I took another gum and popped it in my mouth.
Since I didn’t have a shift today at the shop—thanks to my boss—I’d rather spend my day with Merielle and the boys instead of overthinking the stupid interview.
I had a twenty-minute walk to her house, so I had plenty of time to figure out what I did wrong to make Mr. Graves treat me like a goddamn intruder.
Were my clothes an issue? My posture? Or just the way I was talking?
After all, he knew where I was born and where I worked before. If he wasn’t interested in seeing me and finding out what I had to offer, then why did he ask me to come to the interview?
My phone vibrated and I took it out, thankful for the distraction.
Chad Bitt
Text me when you get done with the interview.
I huffed.
Me
something tells me I screwed it up
Chad Bitt
What? Why?
Me
I had an interview with the CEO and he acted like I was a burden or something. He asked me two questions that weren’t even important and then dismissed me by saying they’ll call me.
so yeah, I don’t think I’ll get the job, but at least I tried *shrug emoji*
Chad Bitt
What a douchebag
Me
yeah…
Chad Bitt
You know what? Give me his address and I’ll teach him a lesson or two about how he should treat you
I laughed, walking out on the Los Angeles streets. I didn’t even know how Chad did it—talking me out of any bad mood. Was I that easy to please or was he just a natural when it came to making people feel better when they might be at their worst?
Either way, I was glad I met him and I had to make sure I thanked David for that.