Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 75481 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75481 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
“Mr. Abernathy, I’m a huge fan.” I cringed inwardly because I knew Rowan wouldn’t like that. He wanted serious-minded people who didn’t fawn over celebrities. Strike one.
“Pleasure to meet you.” I waited for Rowan to suggest the applicant call him by his first name, but the request never came. “Please, have a seat.”
Rowan gave him the once-over, which was more about intimidation than anything else. But he was also a fashion icon and could tell what labels someone was wearing in one fell swoop. Why he hadn’t ditched me the first time he’d laid eyes on my poorly structured clothing was beyond me.
Desperation. Now I remembered.
Rowan motioned to me just as I was about to leave them to it.
“Join us, Shae,” he said in a commanding voice.
“Oh, um, sure,” I replied, taken by surprise. Knowing the details of the job, I thought it was a good idea to sit in on the interview, but for some reason, I’d assumed Rowan would shut me out.
“Let’s begin with your résumé,” Rowan said when we were all seated. “Do you have it handy?”
He could’ve easily pulled up the file I’d emailed him, but he wanted to be difficult. Still, it was important for John to be prepared. And he was, opening his bag and pulling out a folder, which he handed to Rowan with shaky fingers.
Rowan took his time poring over the document, likely to make the poor guy more nervous. “I see you’re still at Parsons.”
“Yes, sir, it’s my junior year,” he said with a hint of pride.
“What is your field of study?”
“Fashion design, sir.”
“What made you interested in applying for this job?”
“I…your reputation precedes you. And, of course, your father was an icon.”
I held my breath, wondering if Rowan would have some snarky retort. He only took a deep breath and moved on. Look who was growing up. I covered my smirk with a cough. Rowan narrowed his eyes, and I refused to meet his gaze.
“This is a two-part position,” he said, but I could hear the edge to his tone. “To manage my schedule and to assist in whatever capacity is required before, during, and after the shows.”
John swallowed. “Yes, sir.”
I nearly rolled my eyes. “What Rowan…Mr. Abernathy means is that you’ll have to pitch in for every little detail, even if it’s to sew a button on a shirt.”
John’s eyes lit up. “Anything involving clothing and fabric is a no-brainer since I love fashion.”
“What do you love about fashion?” Rowan asked.
“The attention to detail and the creativity involved.”
“Do you own any designer pieces?”
“Not as many as I’d like.” Now his eyes positively glowed. “I saved up for a Prada sweater and utility bag.”
“Lovely,” Rowan replied, and they got rolling on the designer’s newest line on the fall runway. That was the other thing about fashion—they were so far ahead that by the time you got used to one trend, you were already introduced to the next. Totally confusing.
When they shared a laugh about something I obviously missed in my preoccupation, my stomach bottomed out. They’d probably get along well. Why did that bother me so much?
“Anyway,” I said, moving the interview along, “how good are your organization skills?”
“Pretty good,” he said, but I could hear the self-doubt.
“Well, since it’s the majority of your job, you’ll need to be more than pretty good.”
He straightened. “Yes, of course. I just meant—”
“For starters, you’ll need to know the basics, like Excel and Word.”
“Word is easy, and I can learn Excel. I can take a crash course before I start, if I’m hired.”
“Sounds good.” I stood up abruptly, earning a perplexing look from Rowan. “We have other candidates to interview, so we’ll be in touch.”
I told myself to calm the fuck down as I led John to the elevator. I’d been as green as him when I’d started this job. What the hell was wrong with me?
After I sent him off, I returned to the office.
“Well, what do you think?” I forced myself to ask.
He shrugged. “Suppose anyone will do.”
“What the hell does that mean? You can’t have just anyone. You need—”
“Why are you so upset? You should be flattered. I’m saying no one is good enough to replace you, so anyone will do. You were a pitiful candidate as well.”
I clenched my jaw. “Are you incapable of complimenting someone without following up with an insult?”
Before he could respond, there was a knock on the door. A young woman was standing there with a large leather tote bag slung on her shoulder. She wore a stylish braid, a pencil skirt, and trendy shoes.
“Excuse me? I’m here for an interview with Rowan Abernathy?”
“Are you Beth?” I wondered if she’d overheard us and felt my cheeks burn.
She smiled confidently. “Yes.”
Once she was inside and seated, the interview went through the same formalities and questions, except Beth’s responses were sharp and charming. She was good. Really good. She seemed perfect for the job. But the longer the interview went on, the more sullen Rowan became, as if he knew we’d found our top candidate and she’d be too talented to turn away.