THE INTERVIEW

I am wearing a crown of confidence and a cheerful demeanour as I stroll into the building. To my surprise, the hotel doesn't appear to be as tiny and inexpensive as the advertisement suggested. It's quite a high-class hotel Although it is not a five-star hotel, it isn't as low-brow as I had envisaged. I'm sorry, but it seems like the boss is merely stingy and exploits the workers. All the same, I need employment. The little dimes they are offering, though small, will be just crucial as long as I pocket them monthly. After being checked out at the entrance and being told to go to the hall, I tightly clutch my résumé to my chest and walk into the elevator.


Walking out of the elevator, I tap my feet on the sparkling tiles in the direction I was directed to. I get to the door and knock gently, and after a voice ushers me in from the inside, I push the door open.

I stride in, but I get glued-thunderstruck on the spot! Like, how many vacant slots were stated on the website? Only one, right? I only saw the marketing vacancy. Don't tell me all these over twenty people are eying the same slot. OMG!

"Good morning, miss!" I turn my stupefied countenance to the two ladies behind the small desk and wobble my legs to them. "Are you here for the interview?" One of them asks nicely.


"Yes, miss." I respond, trying not to sound too despondent and strange.

"You are right in time. The boss should be here any minute. Please leave your hand copy of the resume with us and join the rest of the interviewees in the waiting area," she speaks again as the other shift her attention on a man who just arrived.


After handing them the envelope with a polite nod and a whispered "thank you," I join the throng of job hunters lounging on the plush leather benches. These people are unbelievable! Paying just mere change despite their plethora.

I drop down next to a lady who happens to have mistook the job interview for a night party. Or maybe she missed her way to the bar for a one-night stand that she really needed to coax. Goodness! Is she really going to walk in front of her supposed-to-be boss with this dress that covers only her goodies? Not even all because her boobs are beckoning at everyone in this hall. Huh!

I trace the helm of my black dress and slightly lower it. I'm just checking to make sure it didn't ride up while sitting down. It's not short because it touches my knees even when I'm seated. Hell forbid, I wouldn't want to envisage myself looking like this half-naked blonde hottie seated next to me. If our boss has weak lust defenses, I doubt her well-portrayed round bum and huge boobs will go unnoticed. Poor guy, and sorry for us. If that happens to be the case, the bitch will have it. We will be screwed!

I look away from the blonde, the thought of having to go through this again boiling my anger, but my eyes fall on another babe staring at me as if I were a serious threat even to her ability to breathe.

Dang! Why is everything so freaking odd here?

"No! I must be hallucinating. This can't be her," She says, not even blinking or breaking her stern gaze at me even after I caught her gawking at me. My lungs grumble at her statement, and the look of bewilderment on her face is a topic for another day. She looks like she is staring at a ghost.

I dart my eyes around her fair chubby face. Her complexity doesn't ring a bell at all, and her actions are infuriating my demons.

"Sorry. Do I know you?" I query.

She bats her long eyelashes countless times, recovering from her shock. "It indeed is you," she snaps, making me feel really uncomfortable now, 'Ellie Marrie Riccaford!" Everyone in the hall looks at her when she practically yells, their jaws plummeting to the red carpet after a second as they shift their gazes at me.

Shit!

I choose to disregard their perplexed expressions and concentrate on the one that caught their attention. As if reading my mind, she gets up from where she is, creeps over to where I am, and shoves herself in between me and Miss Naked Blonde. I'm relieved that she separated us because I was starting to feel so uncomfortable like I was the one wearing her shitpiece nonsense of a dress.

"Ellie!? Is this really you?" She asks.

I nod my head slowly, still floating at this weird bimbo. "And who are you?" I query.

"Grace," she says joyfully. I shake my head to let her know nothing about her rings a bell to me. Not her actions and not even her name. 'I was your classmate at brookside before I transferred in form two," She explains, her round eyes narrowing and twinkling with an adorable smile.

Ooh!

Grace! The ever-slimming chubby cheeks, like we used to call her. The world sure is small. "Hey! I remember you. Sorry, I..." I am pulled into a side hug before I can say anything else.

I don't remember us being friends or any close for those two years we studied together. That is why her reaction right now caught me by surprise. I smile slightly, and pat her shoulder gently. She pulls away, a broad grin that got me to widen mine plastered on her face.

"This place isn't for people like you, Ellie. What in hell are you doing here? I mean, I would have understood if I bumped into you as the one conducting the interview, but here in interviewees que?" She asks, and my smile fades away abruptly.

"Yeah, I also would like to know that too. Unless you are a fake, a Riccaford can not be here!" The blonde finally speaks in her irritating raspy voice.

I stare at her, and she challenges me. Look who is talking of fake! Isn't all she all fake?