“Elle, this is Colin Flannery, my lead sales director and who you’ll be reporting directly to,” Dalton says, andoh boy.
I have no idea what is about to come out of Colin’s mouth, but I internally cringe at a magnitude of worst-case scenarios.
I continue to fake not recognizing him, and offer my hand. “Hi, Colin. Nice to meet you.”
“For the second time, you mean,” Colin supplies as our palms connect, yes,for the second time. This time his palm is still warm and dry, but I’m pretty sure mine is as clammy and limp as a mildewed rag forgotten on the corner of a bathroom sink. “I bumped into you at the coffee shop down the street about an hour ago.” He retracts his hand from mine to lift his strong, tapered index finger in the air between our faces. “Or wasn’t ityouwho bumped intome?”
I still have no read on him, so I simply let myself laugh politely and nod.
Smile and nod, smile and nod, smile and nod.
“Oh, yes. That’s right,” I say neutrally, but pleasant. “What a funny coincidence. Nice to see you again.”
“Oh, at Bluestone Lane?” Dalton pipes up, jovial and futzing with the single button straining at the center of his ample waist.
Colin folds his arms across his chest in a way that not only causes his large shoulder muscles to bulge under his well-tailored suit jacket, but also in a way that makes him suddenly seem closed-off and imposing. “That’s the one.” He’s still eyeing me with that devious glint in his eyes, and a smirk pulls in one of his dimples. “We had a little chat about her work history.”
My stomach sinks like a brick, and the placid smile I’ve been forcing for the past minute fades to nothing. I’m also pretty sure my eyes are bugging out of my head.
My own stupid words from earlier are now ricocheting around the inside of my brain.
Have you ever totally nailed an interview by mostly just BS-ing?
I made my work history sound a lot more impressive than it actually is.
I should probably just quit now.
“Is that so?” Dalton says, still oblivious and pleasant as he releases his straining jacket button to sit in one of the chairs opposite the table from mine. “You got a little leg up on me, it seems.” He chuckles and slaps Colin’s back again before pushing out the chair next to him and reaching for a file folder of my way-too-flatteringly-worded resume and work history.
Colin still doesn’t tear his blue gaze from mine as he unbuttons his jacket and smooths his silver tie down the length of his flat, solid torso before sitting in the other chair. “I did indeed. I would venture to guess that Miss Kissinger was more at ease during our little chat in the coffee shop, so I think I probably have a better understanding of what we can expect from her than what Eli got during the interview.” He drums his short, tidy nails on the table and arches one dark brow at me. “Wouldn’t you agree, Elle?”
My lips part in shock as my eyes ping-pong back and forth between their faces. “Yes.”
The word comes out sounding like a question, and Colin’s smirk pulls into a grin that shows off perfect white teeth that make him look like he can andwilldevour me. And not in the way I may or may not have fantasized about only an hour ago.
“I see, I see,” Dalton mumbles, twitching his bushy mustache as he slides his fingertips down the first page in the folder before flipping to the second. “So, what are your thoughts on his plan to put her with Celia on the JDV account?”
I met Celia after my interview. Celia isawesome. Full of wit, sage advice, and dry snark, but with obvious solidarity for other women in the workplace. Working with Celia was one of two things I was looking forward to most about this job. The other was thefatcommissions she assured me we’d be able to nail down by working together. Those fat commissions are the only way I’m going to have a prayer of being able to keep up with the rent of my not-rat-infested-but-still-tiny apartment while also paying down my mountain of student loan debt. Fat commissions are the only reason I went into sales rather than pursuing my original goal of becoming a social worker. Ineedthose fat commissions.
The muscle in Colin’s sharp jaw pulses as he levels me with his icy blue gaze. “My thoughts are,thatis a bad call.”
Hello? Am I invisible?
My work history may not be the stellar picture I painted during my interview with Eli, but evenIknow you don’t have conversations like this in front of an employee.
Dalton cuts a glance up at me, his bulldog jowls pulling downward in a contemplative frown. “You think so?” He slides the folder sideways toward Colin. “She had some pretty impressive accounts. HP, Dell, Hitachi…” He skims his finger down the list. “I know tech sales are a bit different than private aviation, but experience is still—”
“She wasn’t therep,” Colin remarks, his tone even sharper than his jaw. “She just did the cold calling. She’s not ready to partner with Celia.”
“With all due respect,Mister Flannery,” I can’t help piping up, and it’s possible that I’m about to get fired on my very first day, but that’s fine. If that happens, there will be nothing stopping me from ripping Colin another asshole for dredging up this shit in front of his boss. “I didn’tjustdo the cold-calling. I also wasn’t aware that a polite, yet vague thirty-second exchange between two strangers was myfollow-up interview.”
A ghost of that panty-melting smile plays on his lips, but it doesn’t exactly have the same effect as it did before. “Itwasn’t. However, based on what you mentioned, I still don’t feel comfortable partnering you with Celia. Not just because you don’t have experience as a rep. Tech salesaredifferent than private aviation, and you would need mentoring even if you had been a rep.” He tears his gaze away from me and flips through the folder with that same intense focus I saw when he first stepped into the coffee shop. “In fact, I really don’t understand why Eli thought you would be a good fit for this positionat all.”
My cheeks are flaming so hot that I’m sure it’s no match for my full-coverage foundation, and I have no words. I don’t even think I know English anymore right now. Colin is about to terminate my employment on the spot. I’ll be back to square one like I was when I left my parents’ apartment four months ago with nothing but my clothes and the meager amount of money I’d been able to save in order to finally move out.
And that’sfine.
I have survived way worse than this, and I’ll survive it again.
