“Shit.” I start pulling open boxes, realizing I’m not staying on task. I find a pair of wide-leg slacks and a button-up shirt before grabbing some strappy sandals. It never takes me long to do my hair and makeup, so I quickly braid my hair and put on lip gloss and mascara. Once I grab my phone and purse, I rush out the door.
Not wanting to get lost, I call for a Lyft. I’m still so new I’m sure it would take me twice as long to find the temp agency on my own. Once I learn my way around, I might feel better about driving in the city or even taking public transportation. I’ll explore later, but I should probably finish unpacking first.
“Lady.” Someone whistles loudly. I snap my head in the direction of the voice, seeing a man in his car.
“Are you catcalling me?”
“Did you call for a Lyft or not?” he asks dryly.
Oh. Heat rushes to my face and I realize I’m not starting out today with much grace. My first day in the city is going to be a bust if I don’t turn this around soon.
“Sorry!” I run over, open the back door, and hop in. He takes off so quickly that I go sliding across the seat and everything in my purse spills out.
“I charge a ten-dollar clean-up fee if you leave crap back there.”
“I’m not doing it on purpose.” I start tossing everything back into my bag as fast as I can. Thankfully the place isn't too far, and I let out a sigh when I see that I’m right on time.
After checking in at the front desk, I take a seat in the waiting room. As I look around, I wonder if I’m in the right building, but I have to be. I watched her check my name off the list, but this waiting room is filled with beautiful women. Maybe this temp agency does modeling too, or maybe the city is filled with gorgeous women.
When a woman calls my name, I hop up from my seat, eager to see what they’ve got for me. She motions for me to follow her and then points down the long hallway. “The door on your left.”
“Thank you,” I tell her. I enter the office and see a woman is sitting at her desk. She’s reading over a file with my name on it and doesn’t look up from it as I walk in.
“Come sit.” She points to the chair in front of her desk. “I’m Rebecca Simms.”
“I’m Lux.”
“I see that.” She picks up the folder. “You’ve got on here that you have serving experience.” She gets right to the point, and I like that she’s all business.
“Yep.” She looks up from the folder, and her eyes run up and down my body.
“You’re different, but sometimes that works.” I’m not sure how to respond to that, so I press my lips together. “All right, so the number one thing I tell all my girls is that if I call you for a job and you turn it down, you go to the bottom of the call list on the next job. So keep that in mind when you get an offer.”
“Okay. I completely understand.” Although it really sucks if I don’t want to take the job she’s offering, I'm desperate and this place pays immediately after a job is finished.
“Great. I’ve got a job for you then. It’s this Friday and I’ll need to know your sizes, waist and bra.” She tosses me a pen. “Write it here.”
“Okay.” I pause with the pen in my hand. “Can I ask why?”
“Uniform.”
“Right, of course.” I scribble it down for her and then hand the paper back.
“You’ll be serving at a cocktail party. I’ll email you all the information you’ll need.”
Oh wow. That was easier than I thought it would be. “Awesome.”
I leave the temp agency with a little pep in my step thinking that even though today might have started out weird, it’s already back on track. I’ll be a city girl by the end of the week.
With that thought in my heart, I miss the curb and fall right on my ass. I hear a few people laugh, including my Lyft driver that just pulled up. Okay, I’ll be a city girl by the end of the month. I just know it.
4
Bastian
As I walk out of my office, I get a text from Selma letting me know that she’s still against this party tonight, but she wishes me good luck anyway. I text her back and tuck my phone into my jacket as I make my way to the elevators.
The party is being held at a cigar bar up the street, and I plan on walking. It’s spring in Atlanta, and although the humidity has already begun, I don’t mind the heat after being cooped up in my office. When I see my driver at the curb, I wave him off and make my way to The Cellar.
The heavy wooden doors are opened for me as soon as I arrive, and I nod to the security at the door. I’m thankful HR listened to my requests, and I’m hopeful tonight can go off without a hitch. I wish I could make an appearance and then leave, but I want to be seen as a team player, and that includes joining in on what they consider fun.
Honestly, I’d rather be back in my office working, or home watching basketball. This kind of party holds no interest for me because it’s a bunch of old assholes, just like Selma called them, patting themselves on the back for a job well done.
When in reality most of them got their jobs decades ago because of who their fathers were and haven’t contributed to the company beyond voting in as many years. But I can’t say those things out loud. All I can do is position myself to be CEO and hope that when the time comes, the board agrees that I’m the best candidate for the job.
The Cellar is set up underground, so after I walk through the doors I take the stairs that are straight ahead. The walls are lined in red velvet and the lighting is low. Everything about this place screams secretive meeting, and it truly is the perfect backdrop for a gentlemen’s club. Once I’m at the bottom of the stairs I scan the room to see who else has arrived.
The board consists of a dozen members, and it looks like they’re all present. I hate being the last to arrive, but being held up due to landing another contract with the state will make for a good conversation topic tonight.
There are red velvet couches around the room along with oversized chairs and dark wood furniture. The scent of cigars is in the air, but it’s surprisingly not overpowering. I was told the place was well ventilated for this reason and that it wouldn’t be an issue for people who don’t smoke. I like an occasional cigar every now and then, but I don’t like to sit in the stench of it after I’m finished. The air in here reminds me of incense and wood, so it’s not as bothersome as I’d feared.
Another quick glance around, and I see catering has already begun and there are several bunnies around the room.
“Bastian,” Richard Seymore calls, grabbing my attention.
“Sorry I’m late.” I hold out my hand, and he takes it. “I sent off the final contract for the state on our Peach Street bid. We got it.” I smile as I release his hand, and he beams. Mostly because this means a bonus to the board, and not that I successfully negotiated a multi-million-dollar deal in less than twenty-four hours.
“Excellent news, son.” He pats me on the back, and I try not to cringe. “Let’s have a drink to celebrate.”
Richard is the head of the board and the leader of the pack in all ways. Whatever he votes, everyone else will fall in line behind him. It’s really him I have to impress, and I can’t say I like the guy even a little bit. He’s never been outright rude to me, but I’ve seen the way he looks at Selma. He doesn’t care for women in the workplace, and the second I’m CEO, I’m handing him his retirement paperwork.