Making Home Ch. 03

Chapter Three:

When Tuesday came around, I had a lab final in the morning that I had to be up early for. After a quick breakfast of overnight oats, I made my usual coffee and filled my thermos. I sipped at the hot beverage as I walked across the bridge to campus to help calm the chattering of my teeth. Today would be the last cadaver experience of my undergraduate career, and I was eager to throw my formaldehyde-stained lab coat in the trash after the exam.

My coffee was gone before I got to the lab door, and I entered with the other students, pausing in the entry to remove my gear and don my lab coat. The exam went as I thought it would, with various organs and cadavers marked with secondary and tertiary questions. Thankfully, it was all over after ninety grueling minutes. With my lab coat effectively in the 'contaminated' container, I headed home for a quick lunch before my work-study shift at the library. I scarfed down a sandwich and was quickly out the door. The walk back was painless since the wind had died down as the day warmed, and I quickly made my way back to the school.

My four-hour shift went by quickly. The two weeks of finals at the end of term was the time period when the library saw the most traffic. Students from other schools often used our library as well since we closed much later at night, so I was kept much busier than usual. When evening came around, I clocked out and quickly made my way home to change. As I walked across the bridge, I opened up the confirmation email, just to make sure I had the correct appointment time. While reading the contents, anxiety flooded through me.

"Six? I thought I told her six thirty! I hate military time!" I checked my phone and noticed I had thirty minutes.

Half an hour. That's all I had to run back home, change, and jump into my car. I wouldn't have time to do any make-up or my hair. I might not even have time to change clothes. Clutching the straps of my backpack, I ran as fast as my legs would take me across the icy bridge and toward our house. When I made it to my car, I had just ten minutes to get downtown.

Full of sweat and with hair clinging to my forehead, I started the vehicle and headed to the address at the bottom of Patricia's email. Luckily, I found the building right away after making a few turns downtown. I put some coins in a parking meter, not caring to see if I paid for enough time, and carefully half jogged up the slick sidewalk and through the entrance.

It wasn't a skyscraper by any means. But there were a modest number of floors and the building seemed as large as our five-story library. As I entered, I noticed a reception counter and I approached it while the person seated behind it clacked noisily on a keyboard.

"Hi. I'm here for an interview?"

She didn't look up at me and continued typing while looking at her screen. "Who are you here to see?"

"Mr. Crawford?"

"Please wait one moment." Her fingers eventually ceased long enough to allow her to quickly grab the receiver of the phone next to her. She pressed a few buttons on the interface and held it up to her ear with her shoulder while she resumed typing. "Is Mr. Crawford ready for his next interviewee? Okay, great. I'll send her up." She hung up the phone and looked at me. "You're going to want to take the elevator to the third floor. There will be a sitting area that breaks off into a hallway to your left. Take that one all the way down to the conference room. Patricia will be waiting for you."

I nodded. "Okay. Thanks."

I suddenly felt so nervous. The elevator was easy to find, and I followed the instructions until I came to a conference room at the end of the hall. An older woman was seated at a desk just to the left of a set of double doors and she smiled at me as I rushed over to her.

"Here to see Mr. Crawford?"

"Yes. Am I late? I must have sent the wrong time when I emailed, and I had work before the interview today. I just caught the mistake on my way home. I'm so sorry."

"Let me check. You're Avery?"

"Yes."

She swiped through the screen of a tablet propped up in front of her and frowned. "Oh, I am so sorry."

My heart began to sink, and I wanted to scream up at the ceiling. This job would have been so much for me and I managed to blow it by something as small as not double checking the email before I sent it. I forced down the anger bubbling up inside of me and waited, scraping my nails against the inside of my palm.

"I must have put in the wrong time for you. You said eighteen thirty in your email. I am so sorry you felt like you had to rush here."

I blew out a breath of relief. So, I wasn't growing forgetful and clumsy just yet. I swallowed down my anxiety. "Will he still see me?"

"Of course. I'll let him know you're here." She pressed a button on the phone next to her and held the receiver to her ear. "Mr. Crawford? Avery Mitts is here to see you." She nodded and put the phone down. "Go in, dear." She motioned toward the door.

"Thank you." I walked over to the entrance and took a peek inside.

The outer walls were merely windows, and I could see a dark long table surrounded by office chairs. The biggest chair at the end of the table was occupied by a man in a dark suit. Although I couldn't see his face as he was bent over papers on the table, I got a glimpse of his gorgeous wavy hair. It looked soft and slightly messy, but in a way like it had been purposefully styled that way. I raised my hand and gave a few soft taps on the door, and his head popped up momentarily. He waved me in as he turned back to his papers.

"Please, take a seat. I'm just finishing up some notes and then we can begin." His voice was much deeper than I had anticipated. The sound reminded me of the way I felt after eating imported chocolate I was able to have one time. Jess had brought some back from her family vacation to Switzerland. It was sweet, slightly bitter, and velvety smooth. Savoring it had been exciting and pleasurable. Listening to him talk was like eating that chocolate. Delicious. I looked to the chair he indicated and made my way over to it.

"Alright. Thank you." I chose a chair one away from the next on his left and sat down.

The windows of the conference room faced the artistic section of downtown. Murals were painted across brick and stucco of the many businesses scattered throughout as well as some tasteful graffiti on some of the fences. It all worked together, the vandalism and the paintings. It was almost as if whoever painted the murals had also decided to contrast it with graffiti, and the balance created was like complementing opposites. Opposite ends of the spectrum, yet unable to signify beauty or existence without the other.

"So." He shuffled through his stack and pulled a new pile of papers before placing them on top. "You must be Avery?"

He turned his attention on me and all I could do was study his beautiful face. He had the warmest brown eyes and a subtle five o'clock shadow on his chiseled jaw. He had an aesthetically pleasing nose and sensually shaped lips. His skin looked slightly tanned, but not the unnatural type of coloring from a tanning bed or spray products.

I looked away to clear my head enough to find the words to answer his question. "Yes, that's me." My voice came out squeakier than I would have liked, and I tried to cover it up with a smile. I prayed that he wasn't the 'Mr. Crawford' for whom I'd be working. There was no way I would be able to live in the same house as this man without him starring in my every erotic late-night fantasy.

"Alright then, Avery." My name rolled off of his tongue like a promised night of primal coupling. I tried to push the thoughts out of my head so I could focus on getting the job. His eyes wander over my sweatshirt and messy bun with a look of disapproval.

"There was a mix-up in the interview times. I'm so sorry for how I'm dressed. I had something else planned, a lot more professional, actually." I tugged at my sweatshirt and tried to push stray strands back into the pile on top of my head.

"I'm sure." Obvious dinterest was laced in his tone, and he looked back down to look over the words in front of him. He returned his attention to me, elbows on the table, hands steepled in front of him. "I'm going to cut right to the chase. Among many other things, I'm the CEO of an investing company I started ten years ago as a hobby. As of recently, it has begun to take off and now requires a lot more of my time and attention. I also run a company that specializes in renting out luxury condos in the surrounding and metro areas. Last, but not least, I have a few other small businesses scattered throughout." He gave a nonchalant wave of his hand as if to dismiss them.

His eyes hold mine with such an intensity that I have to look away again. I looked down at my hands. "Sounds like a lot."

He nodded, picked up a pen, and began to tap it against, what I was assuming, was my application. "It is. It keeps me busier than I anticipated. Lately, there's also been pressure to attach myself to a woman."

I frown at such a bigoted idea. "That still happens in this day and age? Who would pressure you to do that?"

He grimaced and looked out the windows. "Family. Also, my PR agent, among others."

I didn't have the same experiences, but I thought back to acquaintances having the same complaints. "I guess that makes sense."

"Indeed." He tore his gaze away the window and back to me. "Anyway, I have no interest in dating. Homemaker is probably more along the lines of what I'm personally looking for. Someone who can run the household and welcome me home in an amicable manner when I bring potential clients for dinner. There will be more details in the contract, but you'll need to sign an NDA before I can divulge everything entirely. Until then, feel free to speculate, but I am not at liberty to explicitly discuss my intentions."

"Speculation could lead me anywhere, though. Do you have children or something?"

He gave a curt shake of his head. "No, I don't have any children. Essentially, I need a person who is open to becoming an extension of myself, but at the home front. I need to focus on work and this position is more like a personal assistant, but a little more personal than business, if that makes sense."

I shake my head slightly. "It makes sense, but I don't understand how it can become more personal than business. Do you mean sex?"

He smiled and gave a small grunt. "No. That is not exactly what I mean. Not only is that kind of thing illegal, but I would never contract a woman for sex. That's not the kind of man that I am."

I nodded. "Okay. Then could you give me an example of what you mean?"

"Of course." He shifted in his chair to place one ankle over his other knee and leaned back. "I need a partner to attend business parties with me. Someone who also doesn't mind being associated with me. There may be pictures here and there at different events I will attend, and those photos might make their way to newspapers or local magazines. Some business and some charity events. This position may require travel and late nights on occasion. I also need someone who might be able to give up holidays with family. I would like to go into more detail, but unfortunately that's the most I can give you at this time."

I shifted in my seat and sat up straighter. It sounded suspicious, but not entirely.

"So, after learning what you have, are you still interested in proceeding with the interview?"

I needed the money. And the living situation wouldn't be too bad of a set-up either. But it also sounded almost too good to be true. There were a few pressing matters, such as I needed to ensure that school was taken into account. That, and something felt yellow flag-ish to me about it all.

"How do I know that you're not just some creeper who is trying to find girls for sex trafficking?"

He chuckled for a small moment, then wiped a hand across his face and composed himself. "If you've never heard of me, I suppose that's a fair assumption. When we finish tonight, type my name into a search bar and see what you come up with. See for yourself if I'm the type to be involved in any mischief."

"Okay. Well, I suppose I'm still interested, then."

"Suppose?" He leaned back and his eyes roamed over me again. "I must say, the other applicants were a bit more enthusiastic than you. They were also properly dressed and on time."

"Well, like I said, there was a mix-up with the scheduling. I do apologize for the way I am dressed." I crossed my arms in front of my chest, irritated that he would mistake my caution for disinterest. "As for those other applicants and their enthusiasm, they aren't as careful or rational as me. You put out an ad with little to no details in a strange setting and expect people to apply and come flocking to you as if you're offering some major corporate position. I'm right to be cautious. Those other applicants were probably interested in something else. Looks like I've saved you the time of looking for a fault in them."

"Interested in something else? Like what?"

"You."

"What about me?"

"You're handsome and rich. I would assume that you're used to people telling you what you want to hear. Interviewees included."

"And you wouldn't?"

I shook my head. "This job would do a lot for me. I wouldn't be willing to jeapordize it. But I also have some dignity."

He gave me a small smile and his eyes narrowed. "Hm." After a moment, he sat up in his chair once again, all business. "Shall I go over the details?"

I folded my hands in front of me on the table, pleased that he didn't try to debate the matter further. "Yes, please."

He exhaled loudly and resumed tapping his pen against the table while he stared at me. "The position is 24/7. You are allowed time off, but you must submit a formally written letter asking for it."

"So, this really is a job."

His lips pulled into a tight smile. "Yes. Very much so. You will be required to live at my residence in the suburbs and occasionally travel with me to other parts of the state as needed. There may also be out of state travel. I did see that you're still in college. Would you be able to accommodate the occasional out of state trip? Within reason, of course."

I hesitated. "Well, if I have a final or something important, then I can't skip class. School comes first."

His brows pulled together and he gave a small nod. "Of course. I would only ask you if it was within the realm of possibility. Aside from that requirement, there may be some formal training involved as well. Are you open to that?"

"Depends. What kind of training?"

"Etiquette."

"Oh. Am I not polite enough for you?"

He smiled. "I need you polite enough for professional business."

"Alright. I guess I would be open to that then, yes."

"Good. It's a deal breaker otherwise. If you are selected, upon employment you will be offered full benefits. If you decide to open up a Roth IRA, I will also contribute half of what you do. With me so far?"

I quickly nodded.

"The position is salary based with a starting rate of thirty thousand a year paid to you every first and fifteenth of each month. I can do either a live check or wired transfer, whatever you prefer. If you are on longer than a year, you will be entitled to a raise, appropriate to the average going rate for the position. Any questions about any of that?"

I sat forward in my chair. "Yes. How long do you need someone to commit?"

He rubbed his chin. "The current contract is a year-long obligation with opportunity for renewal if I'd like you to continue."

"I see." I looked down at my hands and moved them to rest in my lap. "I just don't know what I want to do with my degree, yet.

He nodded. "Understandable. We can discuss more as time goes on how to approach that variable. That's, if you get the job."

"Okay."

"If you're hired, you'll also be given a spa care and personal attire allowance. You'll be issued a company car and a company phone."

"Woah. I didn't expect those things."

"Are you complaining?"

"No, just still taking it all in."

He nodded. "I take it you like what you hear?"

"I guess."

"Good. We can proceed with the interview questions, then. I only have a few. Are you ready?"

I exhaled through pursed lips and looked up at him. "Ready as I'll ever be."

"Very well. First question, what are you biggest strengths?"

I shifted in my seat. He was going with the generic interview questions that I always seemed to get. At least this would be easy. "I'm organized, I'm a quick learner, and I'm open to ideas."

He nodded and wrote something down on the paper in front of him. "What is your greatest weakness?"

I licked my lips. "I have a hard time trusting people."

He continued writing. "What three skills can you bring to a homemaker position?"

I thought back to my mom and our life at her apartment. "I'm not afraid to delegate to others, I'm excellent at planning, and I know when to let things go to move forward."

"Hm. That is an interesting answer. What experience do you have as a homemaker?"

Oh crap. This one, I couldn't really speak for. "I don't have any formal experience as a homemaker for a rich guy."

He grunted.

I began to wring my hands. "But I had to run my mom's household until I moved out for college. I did everything. I paid the utilities, called out the plumber and electrician when we needed it. I bought groceries, planned meals. I kept the house clean and maintained my car."

"Okay. Fair enough." He scribbled something more on the paper and I was dying to peak at what he had written. "Lastly, why do you want to work for me?"

Honestly? I'm poor, I want my own room, and you're kind of hot. I shook my head and tried to come up with something that wasn't quite the truth, but not a lie either. "To give me a different job perspective to help me decide what to do with my degree."

He frowned but continued writing. "I thought on your application that is says you are going for a major in Medical Sciences. I would think this position would set up someone in the lines of business or service, not healthcare. Wouldn't you agree?"

"Yes... and no." I took a deep breath and looked out the window. Across the way was a large billboard for the hospital and a picture of a nurse with her hands on the handles of an elderly man's wheelchair. The words, 'Personalized Homecare', were underneath the hospital name. "I might want to explore homecare."

"Homecare?"

I turned my gaze back to him. "Yes. I might want to get my RN and become a nurse to work in homecare. I have the right prerequisites." I threw a hand up in the air. "Or maybe I'll go on to run a business for medical equipment. Just because my major is Medical Sciences doesn't mean I have to stick to the cookie cutter jobs. I can do anything. I want to open my mind up to everything."

He sat quiet for a moment and then he smirked. "I can see how this position might lend to that." He finished writing on the paper and looked up at me. "Well, Avery, do you have any questions for me?"

I sat there, silent as my mind worked through anything he may have left unanswered. I wished that I could think of some. I wanted him to think I was more interested than desperate, but I couldn't come up with anything except one of mere curiosity.

"I do actually wonder about one thing."

"What is that?"

"If you're so rich like you say you are, why are you writing on paper instead of typing in a laptop or tablet?"

He smirked and chuckled a little. "Interesting observation. Let's just say there are comforts in old habits."

"Okay. But, I do have to add that your old habits are contributing to waste whereas it could be avoided. Just some food for thought."

He narrowed his eyes at me, intrigue dancing behind his expression. "I'll keep that in mind. Thank you for being so frank."