I Like Your Shoes

I hate everybody.

"Yes, even you, Mr. Cadwallader." I mumble at my golden retriever as he snuggles deeper into my lap.

"The fact that you can sleep while I'm distraught with worry amazes me, Mr. Cadwallader." He looks up at me with his head cocked to one side and his ears flat against his head. He gives me an assuring whimper. I melt.

"I was correct in the decision of bringing you home, Mr. Cadwallader, even though I had to go against my Mother." I shudder as my mother's disapproving face fills my head.

Mr. Cadwallader gives me a huge grin, as if he were brimming with happiness. I didn't feel quite so optimistic.

"What am I going to do?" I question myself and God as Mr. Cadwallader's head droops and he goes back to sleep.

Great company.

It's been three days since the letter arrived, and a month since I gave that horrendous interview.

I still remember making an appearance at the Achorn House, clad in just my white cotton shirt and plain blue jeans, my hair falling straight and lifeless past my shoulders, and deep, dark circles under my pale blue eyes. A hung-over, hippie of a woman.

I didn't mean to party the previous night of my interview, I swear on the River Styx. It just happens so that my best friend, Cecelia Blythe, could be very persuasive if she needed something. And this time, it was Lionel Francis, the new model she'd managed to snare for her rising career in model photography. I don't know what that means, but that's what she told me.

After an hour of champagne and watching Cecelia straddle some other poor guy when she realized that Francis already had a boyfriend, I finally managed to make it home and sleep, already dreading the horrible day that I was sure was about to come.

And boy did I dread that day.

The doors that led to Achorn house were made of glass, my numb head noticed as I got out of my beat down Prius. The glass shone magnificently as it caught the sun, but given my sorry state, I couldn't quite enjoy the view.

I would treat myself with a generous cup of coffee if I walk out of this office with a job.

If.

I'd never heard of the Achorn house before, much to the horror of Cecelia, since, I quote, "It is owned by the richest man in all of America and has a lovely boy for a son, who was twenty three, a perfect match for me, with bright blue eyes that shone like beautiful Lapis Lazuli, and who also happens to be an author, and given my 'excessive compulsive obsession with words' would be the man who mans me. And then as his personal secretary, I might, I should, manage to capture his heart with my sweet, heartwarming, yet underdeveloped charm, or in simple words, I must dress scantily in one of her dresses to catch the eyes of a guy who didn't sound so promising in the first place.

No wonder my mother hates her.

Back at the Achorn house, I enter through the sliding doors, the kind that senses your presence and swishes open of its own accord, and peer anxiously at my queer surroundings.

It's so bland, was my first thought.

I shouldn't be here, was my second.

I swallow to keep the urge to hurl down. But before I could find the bathroom, a cool, collected voice calls out from behind me.

"Miss Bellemore, so glad you could come."

Let's see the Lapis Lazulis, shall we?

As it turned out, instead of the beautiful blue eyes I'd been expecting, I met a pair of pale, bland and watered down brown eyes.

What? That's it? No shiny crystals? Just some brown eyes that looked as dead as the bland coffee my mom makes without sugar?

I will, never ever trust another's words and get my hopes up again.

"Miss Bellemore? Is everything alright?" The man says, dragging me out of my thoughts. I eye his firmly pressed, blue jacket and regret my hasty decision of putting on the first piece of cloth that crossed my eye.

"Yes, I'm fine."

He walks forward and stretches a hand in my direction. I take it, hoping he wouldn't notice my sweaty palm.

"Timothy Green." Confident, comforting.

"Ambrosia Bellemore." Squeaky, ball of nerves.

"Your friend spoke highly of you." I hold back the small smirk that was forming on my lips. I nod slightly instead. Cecelia had to pull a few strings to get me this interview. By the look of it, she probably pulled his heart strings.

"You are here to for the post of personal assistant?" I thought I heard a pinch of disbelief in Timothy's voice.

"I believe so, yes." I say slowly. That brightens him up. My eyes narrow infinitesimally. Suddenly, I wasn't so excited about getting the job.

Clapping his hands together, he leads me deeper into the hellishly white building. I see a few people working furiously on their computers, the reds in their eyes apparent. I swallow nervously; I wouldn't want to be in their shoes, ever.

Timothy leads me into a larger cubicle, as opposed to the dingy shells the other humanoids seemed to be working in.

"This is my office." Timothy announces in a mighty voice, probably because his office had just a speck of color in one of the corners, a yellow file. How assuring to find a speck of life in Hell's office.

"Unfortunately, " Timothy begins.

Oh my God, he's going to tell me that he's already found a suitable candidate for the post. I'm screwed.

"Mr. Calum Achorn is out for some important business, so he won't be here for your interview."

Oh. Isn't that some great news?

"Mr. Gerald Achorn will be taking your interview instead."

My smug impression falls instantly. I was very tempted to ask him whether he was the same taciturn man I'd seen on the first page of every magazine for being the richest man of America. I'd even heard rumors of him firing someone just because he was peeing during work hours.

I gulp audibly.

"Lead the way, Mr. Green."

~?~

Fifteen minutes later, Timothy emerges out of the grey door, a grim smile on his face.

The kind of smile when you realize someone's going to die, I assess quickly.

"Mr. Acorn will see you now, Miss Bellemore. Go straight in." He instructs politely. Taking a sharp breath, I get up from the chair and open the door slowly.

And the first thing I see is, Nothing.

The room is pitch black.

"Huh?" I mumble in confusion. Peeking out of the room in confusion, I spot Timothy.

"Mr. Green, there seems to be a problem. The lights are off, are you sure this is the correct room?"

"Everything's fine, Miss. Go straight in. Close the door behind you!" He assures me, and turns around to chuckle at the woman he's talking to.

"New catch." I hear him mumble before I turn back to face the dark room. Rolling my eyes, I let the door close behind me and walk straight forward.

Twenty baby steps later, I hear the voice.

"There's a chair right next to you. Sit." I flinch. The voice is cold, curt, and rigid. I didn't want to see the face that belonged to this voice.

Searching, I find the chair soon enough and sink into it. I wait until the voice speaks up again.

"Miss Bellemore, is it?"

"Yes, Sir." What's with the nervousness, Ambrosia? I wanted to shake myself to sense right then.

"For the post of Calum's assistant, yes?"

"Yes, Sir." Firmer this time.

"It will be a tedious work, Miss Bellemore." Not a question, a statement.

"I didn't expect otherwise, Mr. Achorn."

Around this time, my eyes got attuned to the darkness. I see a large head bobbing in deep thought.

"I saw your file, Miss. You're quite inexperienced, aren't you? Fresh out of college?"

"Yes, Sir. But I assure you that won't be a problem."

"No? I'll take your word for it."

We sit for a moment in deep silence.

"My son, he's a stubborn man. Do you know how many people I've had to interview in the last two years he's been in charge?" He speaks up out of nowhere.

"No, sir."

"A fair dozen."

I shake my head.

"It's hard working for him, and I'm tired of talking to spineless youngsters who'll do anything for you to get a promotion. So, I'll ask you this straight, Miss Bellemore, why should we hire you?"

I gulp once, and then clear my throat.

"I'm fairly stubborn myself, Mr. Achorn. I've lived under a woman who has imposed her decisions on me all her life and I've made it out strong. I think for a man who has the tendency to fire people for trivial reasons would do some good with a spank under the ear, and I think I can hold out against him."

I shouldn't have said that.

"Okay, Miss Bellemore. We'll get back to you soon. You may leave now."

Without a word, I rise up from the seat, and start walking out. Five baby steps later, some insane instinct takes over, and I turn around.

"Sir?"

"Thought you were leaving, Miss Bellemore."

"On my way out, Sir. But I was curious." I trail off, mid thought. I wasn't going to see him again, I reason, there's no way he'll give me the job after hearing the nonsense I sprouted out of my mouth.

"About what, Miss Bellemore?"

"Why do you keep all the lights off in your office?"

I hear him snort.

"Are you aware, Miss Bellemore, that germs multiply eighty five percent faster in bright light?"

"No, Sir."

"Well, now you are. Now, get out."

I laugh under my breath and get out of the room, directing a wink at Mr. Green, who looks extremely shocked that I survived.

On my way home, I treat myself to a huge cup of coffee-- imagining my mother looking at me with disappointment and Mr. Achorn telling me that I didn't get the job-- with a huge grin on my face.

To, Ambrosia Bellemore

House number 323, Main Park Street, Red Square Apartments

Sydney

31/08/2017

Subject- Letter of Acceptance

Miss, I am writing this letter on behalf of Achorn House of publication. This is in reference to the interview you gave on 30/06/17 regarding the position of Mr. Calum Achorn's Personal Secretary. We would like to congratulate you as you have successfully acquired the position as Mr. Achorn's secretary in the New York branch.

We are pleased to say that your interviewer, Mr. Gerald Achorn was immensely pleased with your candidacy. He was particularly impressed about your insight in the publication market and your willingness to explore various realms of the publication industry.

We once again congratulate you on your successful clearance. We shall send you all the necessary details required via email.

Wishing you best of luck and a prospering career in Achorn House, Sincerely, Timothy Green

Manager

Achorn House of Publication.