Annihilate Me (Vol. 1) (The Annihilate Me Series) (8 page)

BOOK: Annihilate Me (Vol. 1) (The Annihilate Me Series)
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This is his floor
,
I thought.
 
He doesn’t have a
corner office like other executives.
 
He has an entire floor.
 
And
why not?
 
He owns the joint.
 
Please, don’t let him be an arrogant
prick.

Ms.
Blackwell turned a corner and we came upon an elegantly dressed young woman
with blonde hair.
 
She was perhaps
my age.
 
Maybe a bit older.
 
Late twenties or so, but completely
pulled together and professional looking.
 
She smiled up at us when Ms. Blackwell and I stopped at her desk.

“Ann,
this is Jennifer Kent.
 
Jennifer,
this is Ann Collins, Mr. Wenn’s executive assistant.”

Her
title surprised me, but then I figured she must be staying on until a
replacement was found for her position.

“It’s
a pleasure to meet you,” I said.

She
stood and held out her hand with a smile.
 
“The pleasure is mine, Ms. Kent.
 
It’s good of you to come.
 
I’ll let Mr. Wenn know that you’re here.”

She
brushed past us.

“Thank
you, Ann,” Ms. Blackwell said, watching her go to the only office on this
floor.
 
At least it appeared to be
an office—there was a closed door there.
 
The rest of the floor was a wide-open space
broken up by the sitting areas.
 
It
was unconventional, to say the least.
   

Blackwell
turned to look at me, and in her eyes was a sense of urgency.
 
“The rest is in your hands.
 
Keep a cool head and an open mind.
 
Think ‘big picture.’
 
Think ‘future.’
 
Don’t be a fool and think too much about
this.
 
And best of luck to you,
Jennifer.
 
Remember the pin in your
hair.
 
Use it at the right
moment.
 
Use it instinctively.”
 

Without
another word, she walked away, leaving me alone to wonder what she meant about
not being a fool and not thinking too much about this.
 
Why did she want me to keep an open
mind, to think ‘big picture’ and ‘future’?
 
What did any of that mean?
 
And why was she so focused on my hair?
 
At that moment, I wished Lisa was with
me.
 
She’d see through the
undercurrent of what wasn’t being said.
 
I was naïve in these sorts of situations, which was probably part of the
reason why I hadn’t scored a job in this town.
 
People likely could smell my lack of
life experience.

“Ms.
Kent?”

I
looked over to where Ann was standing beside an open door.
 

“Mr.
Wenn will see you now,” she said.

I
smoothed my hands over my suit, checked my chignon a final time, and started to
close the distance between us.

“Can
I get you something to drink?” she asked before I stepped inside.
 
“A glass of champagne?
 
A martini?”

“It’s
only noon.”

“Your
point?”
 
I must have had an odd
expression on my face when she said that because she put her hand on my arm and
laughed.
 
“Let me get you a
martini.
 
One as smooth as silk and
as cold as January.
 
A martini never
hurts anything.”
 
She stepped
aside.
 
“Please,” she said,
motioning toward the room beyond.
 
“Mr. Wenn is waiting.”

 
 
 
 

CHAP
TER TWELVE

 

When
I stepped into the dimly lit room, I could smell the faint scent of leather and
the even fainter smell of cigar smoke, neither of which was unpleasant.
 
In fact, the effect was almost
calming.
 

There
were no windows here, just paneled walls with paintings on them and a Tiffany
lamp that cast warm florid hues sitting upon a table directly to my right.
 
Across from me, the shadowy figure of a
man moved into the light as Ann closed the door behind me.

“Mr.
Wenn?” I asked.

“It’s
Alex,” he said.
 
His voice was deep
and soothing.
 
“I’m glad you decided
to come, Jennifer, especially after your experience with Ms. Blackwell the
other day.
 
I apologize for
that.
 
I hope she was kinder to you
today.”

When
his face came into view, time seemed to slow, and then it morphed into a shape
I didn’t recognize.
 
It couldn’t be
him, but it was.
 
This was the man
who helped me on the street, when my briefcase was knocked out of my hand the
last time I was here.
 
This was the
man who ran down the sidewalk to retrieve whatever he could of my flyaway
resumes.
 
This was the man I
instantly was attracted to when I watched him walk toward me with that sheen of
sweat on his chiseled face, which was covered now with the same dark stubble I
remembered from two days ago.
 
I
thought he looked like the designer Tom Ford, only better.

Ms.
Blackwell forced herself into my thoughts, and now I knew why her words made
sense:
 
Keep a cool head.

I
wasn’t sure if that was possible, but I nevertheless forced myself to keep a
neutral expression as I extended my hand to him.
 
“This is a surprise,” I said.

He
shook my hand, and when he did, his large hand engulfed mine.
 

“If
this were a different interview with a different woman, I wouldn’t have
believed that.
 
But the other day,
it was obvious you didn’t know who I was, not that it matters much.
 
Still, the fact is that it doesn’t happen
often.
 
In our brief moment of chaos
the other day, I was a kid again.
 
With you, I felt anonymous.”
 
He gestured around his office.
 
“It was as if none of this is important, and it isn’t.
 
At least not to me.”

I
didn’t know what to say, so I said nothing.

“Please,”
he said, letting go of my hand.
 
“Sit with me.”

He
motioned toward two comfortable-looking leather chairs that faced each other in
the center of the room.
 
Side tables
with low lamps sat on either side of each.
 
I fell in step behind him, still in a haze of disbelief that this was
happening.
 
He’d seen me at my
worst—frazzled, frustrated and vulnerable.
 
He knew I’d been crying when he entered
the elevator that day.
 
He saw me
walk into that man, and he knew it happened because I’d turned back to look at
him.
 

What am I doing here?

I
took one of the chairs and sank into it.
 
It was firm, but forgiving, like a little piece of heaven.
 
The cool leather felt good against my
skin, especially when I crossed my legs and my calf pressed against the bottom
of the chair.
 
It sent a chill
through me.
 

Or
was that because of him?
 

I
watched him sit down.
 
He was
wearing a black suit that hid a tight, muscular build hidden beneath.
 
His cobalt blue tie set off the
intensity of his blue-green eyes, which now were caught in the glow of the
lamps on either side of him.
 
He
seemed to study me for a moment.
 
With a confidence I didn’t know I possessed, I did the same.

“I’ll
come clean,” he said.
 
“When you
left the other day, I went straight to Blackwell and asked for your
resume.
 
I see that you’re from
Maine.”

“I
am.”

“Do
you miss it?”

I
thought of my parents, and then of the few friends I’d left behind.
 
“Parts of it.”

“Which
parts?”

“The
good parts.”

He
smiled at that, and then turned when a knock came at the door.
 
“Come in, Ann,” he said.

The
door opened and Ann entered with a silver tray, upon which were two glistening
martinis.
 
She seemed impossibly
regal and elegant to me, which brought out insecurities I was trying to tamp
down.
 
Watch her
, I thought.
 
Learn from her.
 
Look at how she moves.
 
This is what it’s like at the top.
 
This is what he’ll expect from you.

She
handed me a martini, which I put down on the table next to me.
 
She then turned to give Alex his.

“Thank
you, Ann.”

With
a slight nod of her head, she left the room.
 
When the door clicked shut, he raised
his glass to me.
 
“To new
possibilities,” he said.

I
reached for my drink, and leaned forward to touch glasses with his.
 
We sipped and, as promised, the liquid
was smooth and cold.
 
Still, I felt
like a fraud.
 
I didn’t have half
the sophistication Ann had, and I was here to replace her?
 
Give me a break.
 

I am so not at this level.
 
Martinis at noon?
 
Who does that?

The
answer came at once.

Mr. Wenn does that.

I
looked at him, and saw that he was watching me with a directness I found, at
once, exciting and intimidating.
 
He
was beyond handsome.
 
He looked as
if he’d stepped out of the pages of
GQ
.
 
Or off the cover.

“I
noted on your resume that you have an MBA.”

“I
do.”

“What
did you hope to find when you came to Manhattan?”

“For
starters?
 
A job.
 
So far, that’s been futile.”

“Why
do you think that is?”

“If
I knew, I’d likely have a job.”

“I
can’t imagine why you’d have difficulty finding a job here.”

I
remembered what the cabbie said to me the other day, and offered it up as a
possible explanation.
 
“The economy
is in the can.”

“Not
for someone like you.
 
I think you
might intimidate people.”

Why do I keep hearing that?
 
“How?”

He
shrugged and sipped his drink, but didn’t answer.
 
“What did you hope to find at Wenn?
 
I understand you applied for a
secretarial position.
 
Why?”

“To
be blunt, I need the money.
 
I’ve
been here since May.
 
Money is tight
at this point, so a girl needs to work.
 
I figured if I could get my foot in the door, someone would see that I
had talents that went beyond answering phones, and then maybe I’d get a better
job within the organization.”

“You
know, if I asked that of someone else, I would have been given a line of
bullshit.”

“That’s
not me.”

“I
assume that’s the Mainer in you.”

“Where
I come from, we have ethics.”

“I
know you do.
 
When my parents were
alive, we had a summer home on Hancock Point.
 
I still own it, actually, though I
haven’t been there in years because I’ve been so busy here.”

“It’s
beautiful on the Point.
 
You must
have loved it there.”

“I
did.
 
When I was a boy, I spent most
of my summers in Maine.
 
Initially,
some people resented me because I was one of the summer people.
 
But over time, that went away.
 
The people I befriended were
locals.
 
I came to know them and I
played with them, much to the chagrin of my mother, who was a snob.
 
Through my friends, I realized how lucky
and unlucky I was.
 
I had plenty to
eat, which most of my friends didn’t.
 
But my friends had lasting friendships, which I lacked because of who my
family was.
 
Maine gave me a good
perspective on the world.”

BOOK: Annihilate Me (Vol. 1) (The Annihilate Me Series)
10.18Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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