29. Chapter 29
Chapter twenty-nine
Lucy
Itugged on the hem of the satin blouse I was wearing as I sat in the lobby of Echelon Developments.
The building was a new construction, all clean lines and geometric artwork.
It was different from the kinds of designs that filled my portfolio, which all seemed dated now I was here.
Doubt started to dig into the small pillars of confidence I’d worked up to walk inside.
Everything about this place screamed high-tech engineering and modernistic design.
I shouldn’t be here.
The impulse to turn around and head right back out the door threatened to take over my body. I held it back. Dax had already left, and I still didn’t have a cellphone to contact him or anyone else.
Deep breaths. Calm down, Lucy. You’re already here. There’s no backing out now.
I checked in with the uppity receptionist at the front desk who appeared to be maybe a few years older than me. She told me to take a seat on one of the voguish couches while I waited for my interview.
I nervously tapped the binding of my portfolio book as I tried to ease the rush of nervous thoughts flowing through my brain.
I didn’t know the time, but the minutes seemed to tick by as I focused on an art piece displayed on the wall across from me.
Its abstract strokes seemed violent somehow; hues of red splattered like blood.
I straightened my hand, trying to calm myself.
“Lucy Conrad?” the sharp, feminine drawl sounded like a bell, jerking me back in my seat.
I looked up to see a tall brunette woman giving me a practiced smile with bleached white teeth.
She was pretty, maybe in her mid-forties.
She had an intimidating stance about her that suggested she was someone of stature around here.
I nodded my head, my mouth suddenly unable to move.
She reached out a hand manicured with long, pointy fingernails toward me. “Deana Laskin, CEO of Echelon Developments,” she introduced herself.
I lifted my clammy hand to hers and shook it. “Um, nice to meet you,” I said stupidly.
Get it together, Lucy. You’re fucking everything up.
“Follow me this way to my office, Lucy. We’ll be conducting your interview there.” She turned swiftly on a lengthy stiletto and I scrambled after her. “Water?” she asked, pulling a bottle from a basket behind the desk.
“Uh, yeah, sure. Thanks,” I stuttered as I reached for the bottle. She gave me an assessing stare before her mouth lifted into another forced smile, dropping it in my hand.
We took an elevator to the top floor of the building, and she hovered next to me. She eyed the way my hands trembled. “Don’t be nervous, this will be pretty quick.”
I almost coughed, my throat suddenly dry. I let out an awkward laugh that sounded more like a choke, twisting the cap off the water bottle and taking a long sip.
Okay, Lucy. Turn this around. You’ve got this, like Dax said.
Deana’s office was high with sweeping views of the bay. The Golden Gate Bridge stood like a beacon in the distance, the fog moving slowly through its suspender ropes. A work of art. Design. A symbol for the entire reason I was here.
Despite the luxury view and grandiose space, the room had a murky, unpleasant smell to it that was reminiscent of cat piss.
I straightened my shoulders as I sat across from Deana, a sleek glass table between us. She dragged a paper across the desk, and I saw she had a printed copy of the application I’d sent in when I saw the advertisement for the internship.
Her brown eyes scanned it for a moment before they met mine.
“So, Lucy, I see here you’ve made the dean’s list every semester during your time at SFUD so far.
I also read the letters of recommendation you sent in from your professors, very impressive.
” Her words were complimentary, but her tone suggested something that felt closer to mockery. Something about this woman was off.
My confidence swayed again, a sick feeling creeping through my stomach.
I started sweating profusely. What the hell was wrong with me?
“Ah…yes, thanks. I was accepted to SFUD on a full-ride scholarship to their architecture design program. An opportunity like the one you’re offering would be a dream for me.
” I managed to spew out the words, but I was starting to feel dizzy.
I rubbed my damp palm against my jeans under the desk, then realized she could see the movement through the glass.
“Oh, yes, a dream,” Deana repeated, and this time I was sure she was sneering. “Tell me more about your dream, Miss Conrad. Where does that dream fit into our operations?”
Fuck, my head was spinning. I took another sip of water, and Deana’s eyes crinkled a little with a thin smile.
“I want to be a designer,” I told her. “I want…I want to create buildings that make the world a better pl-place.” I was struggling to speak, and a spark of fear rippled through me.
This wasn’t right. Why was this happening?
Deana let out a sharp laugh and panic rose quickly in my chest. “There’s no such thing as making the world a better place, Lucy.
It’s against human nature. Our true nature.
The things we build are meant to be destroyed, replaced with something stronger.
More powerful. But who am I to judge? We all have dreams, right? ”
“Um, I guess so?” I croaked. I was at a loss for words, and the room was beginning to spin faster and faster. I clenched my eyes shut, willing the dizziness to stop.
“I have a dream, too. But that’s the difference between you and me, Lucy. I’m not working against the flow of human nature. I embrace it.” My eyes popped open at this, but Deana looked like a blur in my vision across from me. My heart thudded a rapid rhythm.
“What are you talking about?” I asked, my arms starting to feel heavy and limp, hanging from their sockets.
My portfolio dropped from my lap onto the floor, and I reached to pick it up, but I couldn’t.
It was like there was a wire shortage between my brain and my limbs. “What-what’s happening to me?”
My body started to slump forward, and I heard footsteps coming from nearby. I tried to turn my head to see who was coming, but it was impossible. A warm, sticky feeling spread inside me as fear tore through my unmoving body.
I heard Deana get up from her chair, but my eyes couldn’t register what she was doing. I moved my lips but no words came out. Only a slewed sound that I barely recognized as my own voice.
People were talking, but the sound was muffled in my ears. My eyelids drooped shut even as I desperately pleaded with them to stay open. I thought I heard paper ruffling, but I couldn’t be sure.
Help!
I wanted to scream, but I couldn’t.
A female voice broke through my fuzzy hearing in choppy soundwaves, “What a…waste…her designs aren’t bad. She’ll…make for…an entertaining…show.”