Ninety Days
Victoria S. Johnson
Cover Art: Designs By Rachelle
Published by Mind Wings Audio at Smashwords
This story is also available in audio CD and MP3 formats
Copyright 2009 Victoria S. Johnson
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This story is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Ninety Days
By Victoria S. Johnson
Who goes to a job interview with her right arm in a cast? Someone desperate; someone who’s facing eviction with nothing to fall back on. Even the cat had deserted her. Two more floors to go until she reached the law offices of Evans, Holbook, and White. It was late in the day and her stomach started gurgling on the ninth floor; the man next to her had shifted slightly away from her, as if she were contagious.
At last, the twenty-second floor. She stepped out and turned to her right as instructed, then went through the massive cherry wood doors, and suppressed her gasp of amazement. Everywhere she looked bespoke money, and lots of it. Southwestern-style decor met her deep brown eyes; the walls were painted burnished orange and buttery yellow. A life-size bronze statue of a foal stood in the center of a large reception area. The couches and chairs followed the theme in tanned leather or deep charcoal. End tables displayed beautiful lamps, while shelves here and there held kachina dolls or small decorated painted ponies. Beautifully woven Indian rugs hung in strategic places on the walls. The only thing missing were people. Where was everyone?
She looked around for the receptionist, who had told her on the phone how to find the law office and assured her it wouldn’t matter that she couldn’t use her right arm.
“Hello,” she called out; it seemed to echo back to her. No response.
Walking past the foal she lovingly ran her hand along its back. Her heels clicked on the marble floor as she made her way further into the area. There was the sound and smell of popcorn being popped halfway down the bank of empty offices.
Following the aroma, she walked into what obviously was a break room and saw a fairly tall gentleman wearing a white shirt, jeans, and boots, standing with his back to her.
“Excuse me, sir. I’m Alana Williams, here for an interview.”
The microwave was humming away and the man hadn’t acknowledged her presence. Moving forward she tapped him on his shoulder. He jerked and turned toward her, surprise evident on his face. Earphones and a tape deck in his shirt pocket revealed why he hadn’t heard her. Hard intense green eyes looked her up and down while he turned off the tape and pulled out the earphones.
“I’m sorry if I startled you.” Her voice was husky with a faint southern accent.
“What are you doing here?” His deep voice was curt and sharp.
“I’m Alana, here for an interview with Sarah Clark, but so far you’re the only warm body I’ve come across.” Just then the microwave dinged, and he pulled out the bag of popcorn.
“I’m the only one here for now. Why bother to interview with a cast on your arm?” He came across as dismissive and arrogant, while he poured the popcorn into a bowl.
Alana felt her hackles rise up. “I still need to eat and pay the rent.” She was becoming annoyed.
“Why don’t you go on welfare? Seems to me it would be easier.” Again he closely watched her face. He seemed to be baiting her.
Alana felt herself go stiff. How dare he? Who did he think he was anyway? “Sir, I would prefer to work at what I can do, and I do it well, even with a cast on my arm.”
He seemed to know he’d irked her, her eyes gave her away. “And just what is it … you do so well?”
Had his voice gone all sensual? She had to blink several times to gather her wits; his smile looked wolfish.
Rather primly she came back with, “Reports, sir—efficient, effective, organized cost-reduction reports.” As she turned to leave, he gestured with his hand for her to sit down instead.
“Why not talk to me since no one else seems to be around? Besides, I’m curious how,” he paused to munch on some popcorn, “you manage to,” his gaze swept over her, leaving her feeling hot all over, “be cost effective.”
The smell of the popcorn made her stomach rumble. She hadn’t eaten since early this morning. “I watch and listen, and try not to make hasty judgments.” Her body along with her voice was tense. There you noisy man, I hope you realize you’ve just been put in your place.
His eyebrows rose, while his large hand scooped up another handful of popcorn to munch on. “So you, with the All-Seeing-Eye, can help save the day, even if you can’t manage to have shoes that match?”
Mortified she looked down at one black and one brown shoe, then looked him straight in the eye. “It was a test. You passed.”
Did his mouth just twitch?
“Well now, Miss…?”
“Williams.” Her stomach audibly rumbled.
“Just what other skills does a one-armed woman posses?”