Chapter One – Kayla #2
But again, I have nowhere else to go, nowhere to run to. If I tried to leave and he tracked me down and found me… I can’t imagine the world of hurt he’d inflict. It’s best to avoid that altogether, for obvious reasons.
“Good. This is our chance to get in with a big company,” he says.
The air blows around us in the alleyway, and it smells of piss and rotting food from the nearby dumpster.
Not the best things to smell. “Give it your best. Smile. Be sweet and nice. I heard there’s multiple secretarial openings, which would be perfect for you. ”
Again, I nod. What else am I supposed to do? I have to save my energy for when we reach the building, when we walk in and act like we’re supposed to be there. It’s going to take a lot of pretending, the best masks we have.
Frankly, I don’t have much hope for either of us. Even in nicer clothes, if we manage to get hired, they’d see our address and know exactly what kind of people we are.
Jeremy reaches for my hair, moving some so not all of it falls behind my back and instead drapes over my shoulder.
“If the interviewer is a guy, feel free to lay it on thick. Use your feminine charm or whatever. You have that, don’t you?
” The expression on his face tells me he isn’t sure—and for good reason.
Thanks to what I really am, I’ve never been in a relationship before. I don’t really know how to flirt. All the omega instincts I’m supposed to have are buried so deep inside of me I’ve never felt any of them before.
But, to make him happy, I say, “Yes. I’ll do what I have to.”
His hand falls to his side as he gives me an appraising once-over. “That’s a nice outfit. You look good, sis. I think we got this shit in the bag.” He comes across as confident, which isn’t a surprise.
He’s always confident. Doesn’t mean his plans always work, though. Sometimes they blow up in our faces and we have to pick up the pieces. When that happens, he tends to blame me, hence why I try so hard to give his schemes my all.
We leave the alleyway and head deeper into downtown, to the Alpha Life building.
We both walk with a fast pace, although it’s hard for me to keep up with him.
I’m out of breath within a minute, and I’m downright sweating by the time we reach our destination.
Jeremy doesn’t seem to notice—or he doesn’t care.
Big, bold, yellow letters line the glass above the main door. He tosses me a look, I hand him his resume out of the folder I still hold, and then we head inside.
Signs line the lobby of the building, the main floor full of bright, natural light. Those signs direct us where to go, give us different rooms to head to. I go to the room where the secretarial applicants are waiting, while Jeremy goes to the janitorial and custodial room.
Walking in through the closed door, I see rows and rows of chairs lining the room, mostly female betas waiting. Some male betas. No omegas that I could smell. I’m instantly greeted by a woman behind a makeshift desk just inside the room.
“Here for the hiring fair?” she asks politely, already sliding me a clipboard with a pen and an old-fashioned application on it. “Please fill it out and return to me with your I.D. and resume attached.”
I give her a smile and say, “Thank you.” Trying to be polite and all.
I mean, I like to think I’m a polite person, but sometimes I’m known to space out, which some people consider rude. It’s not something I do on purpose, but… well, it just happens.
Taking the clipboard, I head to the nearest vacant seat that doesn’t have anyone nearby and start filling out the application.
First thing’s are simple. Name, address, that sort of thing.
Next is my work history, which is just dumb since they’ll have a copy of my resume with it.
Guess it goes hand in hand with the shitty online applications, too.
You’ve never known true annoyance until you’ve had to type something out three times that’s already listed in your resume.
I fill out the first page of the application, then flip it to the back.
My vision gets blurry for a few moments, and I have to squeeze my eyes shut for a while.
Thankfully, when I open my eyes, my vision is clear and I’m able to continue with the form.
I turn that form in after pulling out my I.D. and slipping my resume beneath it.
The woman at the desk smiles at me again and says, “Great. It’ll be at least a half hour. If your name is called, you’ll head to that door over there.” She points across the room. “Before you leave, make sure to swing by here and pick up your I.D. on your way out.”
If I was new at this, I’d be a little nervous that I’m handing over my fake I.D., but seeing as how this isn’t my first rodeo, I’m as calm as I can be.
Plus, I learned a long time ago that letting my nerves get to me can make me pass out in the most unfortunate situations. For reasons that should be crystal clear, passing out here is a definite no-go.
Names get called every so often. I sit there by myself and wait. Most everyone else in the room are on their phones, scrolling or texting. I do wonder what that’s like, to have social media, to have friends and acquaintances you keep up on. People you actually want to see and talk to.
Me? My life is basically my brother. Everything we do revolves around him and what he wants, along with keeping a roof over our head—even if that roof has a leak or two occasionally.
Some people just weren’t born lucky. I’ve never had an ounce of luck to my name. If I was lucky, I’d have been designated a beta at least. If I was a beta, I’d be much better at blending in and I wouldn’t have to starve myself to do it.
Seriously, less around a thousand or so calories a day is harder than you think. Calories add up so fast. I can’t remember the last time I ate anything sweet.
Time crawls on. More names get called. Sometimes the people come back and pick up their I.D.s with the woman at the desk, but sometimes the people don’t come back, and I wonder if that means they got the job.
Maybe I won’t get called for an interview at all. Hopefully Jeremy is having a better time. I can’t imagine how upset he’ll be if neither of us get a job here. When he gets mad… he blows up. It’s not fun to be around, and since I have nowhere else to go, I’m always the one taking the brunt of it.
I’m about to give up hope for myself when a man pokes his head inside the room on the far side and says, “Mackayla Prim.”
At first, I don’t quite believe I heard him correctly, so I remain seated, a little confused, but then the man says my name again and I jerk to my feet and hurry over.
Once I reach the man, I open my mouth to apologize, but he makes it clear he doesn’t want to hear it.
He invites me into the hall and starts walking, all without saying a word.
I… I guess I’m supposed to follow him? Oh-kay.
I have to hurry to keep pace with him. I imagine the interview rooms are nearby, but the farther we go down the hall the more confused I get, and when we make it to an elevator I’m more confused than ever.
The man hits the up button, and the elevator’s doors slide open seconds later. He steps on, but I don’t move a muscle. The doors start to close, which means he has to jerk his arm out and keep them open for me.
“Sorry,” I whisper, ducking my head as I step onto the elevator with him. “I didn’t know the interviews were on a different floor.”
The man doesn’t look at me. Behind his thin-rimmed glasses, he looks bored. He’s a beta wearing a suit, but even so, he’s a good six inches taller than me. His expression tells me he’d rather be anywhere than where he is right now, a feeling I have, too.
This feels weird to me, but what do I know?
Eventually, the man replies, “They’re not.”
I swallow hard. “Then where are we going?”
“The main interviews are on the ground floor, yes, but Mr. Bentley wanted first-dibs of all applicants.” I get a side-eye from the man before he adds, “You are the first one he wanted to see today. I don’t know if that makes you fortunate or not. Depends on his mood, I suppose.”
“Who’s Mr. Bentley?”
The elevator passes floor after floor, and I realize we’re heading all the way up, to the top of the building. No lowly manager would be all the way up there. This Mr. Bentley must be an important fellow here, but why in the world would he single me out of everyone else?
The man scoffs with a frown, “Best not ask something like that once these doors open again.” With a shake of his head, he says, “But I suppose that’s what Mr. Bentley gets for opening up the positions to anybody.
” Only after he’s snippily said all that, he finally tells me who the man is.
“Mr. Bentley is the head of this company. Most people aren’t important enough to ever meet with him one-on-one.
You should consider yourself beyond fortunate. ”
I’m meeting with the head of Alpha Life? Why?
My stomach churns in the worst way. I want to throw up, but being sick would involve vomiting up my lack of breakfast this morning, so I’m afraid all that would come up would be stomach bile—and if you’ve ever puked up stomach bile, you know how disgusting it is.
An eternity passes before the doors open and the man steps out of the elevator. I follow him, fiddling with my hands. If I’m the first person this Mr. Bentley wanted to meet with today, what does that say about me? I don’t know. I don’t know what to expect, and that’s the worst thing about this.
The man leads me through a maze of private offices; we pass what must be higher-ups in the company in their spacious private rooms. Some are on the phone. Some are talking to what must be their secretaries. It’s a whole different world than what I’m used to.
Why am I here? What makes me so special?
We head to what must be a corner office with the door shut. The man knocks gently on the door before opening it and saying, “I brought her up.”
A voice clearly belonging to an alpha says, “Bring her in.”
The man steps aside and holds open the door for me, and though he doesn’t say a word more, I can see it in his eyes: he’s wishing me good luck.
Thanks, I want to say, I have the feeling I’m gonna need it.