Brave. That was good too. Though she most likely didn’t know there was anything to be afraid of. Gavril and I were keeping things on the up and up as much as we could, and so far, there was nothing for any of my employees to fear, except for screwing up.
Clementine here didn’t look like she cared much for screwups, either.
“Good morning,” she said as I shook her hand.
“After you,” I said, waving her into my office, trying to keep my eyes up as she walked ahead of me. Trying, but failing. Not a prerequisite for the job by any means, but she had a great little ass.
Hell, what was wrong with me? I wasn’t my rowdy, womanizing brother, Daniil, though even he had settled downsince getting married not too long ago. I was the bookish one, the one who had to be dragged to parties and usually left the moment I could. I had just started my first venture in a new country, and didn’t need a distraction.
But Clementine was very much a distraction.
“Don’t mind the decor,” I said. “Or rather, lack of it. We’re brand new.”
She gave the office, which had my desk and chair, a couch for quick naps since I was there more than I was at the house in the hills I just recently bit the bullet and bought, and a paper shredder stuck in the corner. No impressive paintings, though I did have a fairly nice view out the window—of the building next door. I was in it to make money, not show off.
“I’m here to work, not judge,” she said. “But I’d be happy to help pick out some artwork if that shows up in my list of duties. If I get the job,” she hurried to add. “I appreciate the opportunity to interview.”
So she was humble, too, not to mention jumping on tasks that needed to be done before anyone ordered. If I hadn’t been impressed already for all the wrong reasons, she was impressing me with the right ones.
Then I remembered she showed up late and hadn’t seemed too bothered by my slightly sarcastic admonishment.
“As you saw, there were a lot of people out there who want this job,” I said, sliding into my seat behind the desk.
She nodded. “Yes, of course.” With only slightly trembling hands, she reached into her bag and pulled out her resumé. “I hope you’ll…” she trailed off.
Rearranging her face to look confident again, she returned my steady gaze, full of determination to impress me no matter what I’d find on that sheet of paper.
I pretended to pore over her rather thin experience, stifling a smile when I heard her audibly swallow.
Oh hell, it didn’t matter that she didn’t have a lick of experience; she already had the job. But first, I was going to have a little fun.
Chapter 2 - Clem
Trying to squash my nerves by reading a chapter of the science fiction book I started the other day, I was shocked when I heard my name called so quickly. I had already made a bad first impression, getting caught sneaking in fifteen minutes late. It was especially annoying since I left so early, but my car refused to start, and by the time I finally finessed it into sputtering to life, there was no chance I’d get there by nine.
Handsome Mr. Fokin, the man doing the interviews, was intimidating to say the least. Taller than me by a foot, he made his dissatisfaction clear when he tapped his expensive watch as I tried to sneak in. He looked like a hardass I didn’t need right now, but what I did need was this job, so I got it together in a hurry, held my head high, and went in like I already had the position.
I probably read that advice somewhere a long time ago and hoped it didn’t make me look cocky.
After two months in LA, I still hadn’t managed to get a permanent job despite constantly going to these humiliation rituals, trying to land one. Not just for better-paying office jobs, but also for clothing shops, restaurants, fast-food places, and even a daycare center, despite never babysitting a day in my life. I obviously didn’t get that one.
I didn’t know a soul in town who could give me a leg up with a personal recommendation, and I had barely been scraping by doing deliveries at all hours of the day and night. I didn’t exactly feel safe being out on the streets in the wee hours, bringing burgers or groceries or whatever else Los Angeles night owls wanted at the drop of a hat, but this city was expensive.
The unsavory delivery gig wasn’t going to last much longer if my car kept acting up, not that I could blame the poor old thing after its laborious journey to get me here all the way from Vermont. If I didn’t get a full-time position soon, like right now, and my car completely gave up the ghost, I had no idea how I’d keep paying the astronomical weekly rent on my dingy room in Hollywood.
Oh, and I learned right away that only parts of Hollywood are fun and glamorous. The part I could barely afford to live in wasn’t. Not even close.
Even trying to keep up a brave front every time I spoke with her, my Aunt Gigi was starting to see through my act that everything was great here. The much older sister of my long-dead father, she was my only living relative left, and she had her own struggles to contend with.
No matter what I did, she always had my back, believing I could do no wrong, and I wanted it to stay that way. It wasn’t only pride. She certainly couldn’t afford to send me any money, and I refused even the twenty bucks she wanted to transfer to me last week so I could buy some groceries.
Things weren’t quite that pathetic yet.
Not as pathetic as my resumé, which I tried to hand over without letting Mr. Fokin see my trembling hands. That could be chalked up to hunger as much as nerves. I had meant to grab something from a convenience store on my way, but then I didn’t have any time thanks to my car acting up.
I watched him look it over, my stomach sinking. No amount of bravado was getting me this job with my lack of experience.
It wasn’t that I’d never worked. I got my first job in high school and worked my way through college, not about to let AuntGigi dig into her retirement fund when I only earned a partial scholarship. But there was only one reference on that resumé, Aunt Gigi herself.