“Jon? Jon Brighten?”
“Yes.”
“Oh, Jon, this is Penelope Redgrave.”
Jon actually felt a smile moving across his lips. He never expected to hear from the woman after watching her climb aboard the bus three days ago. “Hello, Mrs. Redgrave. I hope you’re not calling me to tell me you were hurt after all.”
“Oh, no, not at all.” The woman’s soft laughter floated through the phone line. “I’m calling about that job interview I caused you to miss.”
Christ on a crutch.
Jon rubbed his hand down his face, refusing to give into the groan on his lips. “It was an accident, Mrs. Redgrave. And I thought I told you I really didn’t want that job anyway?”
“Yes, dear boy, but I still feel responsible.”
“Really, ma’am, there’s no—”
“My son is head of security at Vaile Industries. I heard from him that they are interviewing for a personal assistant. They are holding interviews tomorrow night at six o’clock. I had my son put your name down on the list. All you have to do is go to reception in the lobby and tell them what you are there for. They will direct you to the interview. Now, don’t disappoint me, Jon.”
Jon gulped. “No, ma’am.”
“Do you need directions, dear?”
“No, ma’am. I can look it up online.”
“Good luck then, Jon, dear.”
He pulled the phone away from his ear and stared at it. She had hung up. How in the hell had she even gotten his sister’s number? Maybe she had grabbed one of his résumés. Jon didn’t really care one way or the other.
He had a job interview.
* * * *
“Hello.” Jon smiled brightly at the woman behind the desk. “My name is Jon Brighten. I’m here to apply for the personal assistant position.” That sounded so freaking lame. Why else would he be dressed in some damn blue suit that barely fit him and made his skin itch, holding his résumé in his hand, if he wasn’t there to apply for the job?
The older woman behind the desk had to think he was a complete moron.
“Résumé?” the woman asked in a take no prisoners kind of way as she held out her manicured hand, not even looking up from her computer screen.
Jon felt a chill of foreboding shoot down his spine at the detached attitude. Was everyone at Vaile Industries just as friendly? Jon seriously hoped not. Still, he needed the job even if it was just to get off his sister’s couch.
He held out his résumé to the woman. Jon winced and stuck his finger quickly into his mouth when the paper cut him as it slid through his hand. A soft inhale from the secretary caught Jon’s attention. He arched an eyebrow at her as he watched her eyes kind of glaze over as she looked at the drops of blood on the corner of his résumé.
Shit! That was his last copy, too.
“Paper cut?” the woman asked as she finally glanced up at him.
He frowned, feeling like a complete moron. He nodded. “Yes, sorry about that. I’m afraid I don’t have another copy with me. Maybe we could make one?” he asked hopefully, giving serious thought to dropping to his knees to beg.
The woman turned a brilliant, hundred-watt smile in his direction. Jon marveled at the transformation. The smile made her seem a whole lot less commandant of the prison camp and much more friendly. He felt even more shocked when she held out a box of tissue to him.
“Here, you just take care of your cut,” she said. “I’ll take care of your résumé.”
“Uh, thank you,” Jon said as he pulled a couple of the tissues out of the box and wrapped them around his sore finger. Paper cuts hurt like the dickens.
“Please, have a seat, Mr. Brighten,” the woman said pleasantly. “Your name will be called when it’s time for your interview.”
Jon nodded and turned to face the rest of the room. Several other people sat waiting on the chairs situated on each side of the narrow room in front of the secretary’s desk—both men and women—and every damn one of them was dressed to the nines.
Competition for this job would apparently be stiff.
Jon wasn’t surprised by the caliber of people applying for the job. It was a great position, personal assistant to Mr. Nikolas Vaile, owner and CEO of Vaile Industries, one of the biggest private pharmaceutical and research companies in the world.
Jon didn’t think he had a chance in hell of landing the job, especially after seeing the other applicants. They all looked like they had Ivy League degrees and silver spoons growing out of their asses.
Jon had a community college associate’s degree in liberal arts and a thirteen-thousand-dollar student loan dogging him. He didn’t even have his own place because he couldn’t afford it. He slept on his sister’s couch, and that welcome mat was wearing thin.
Gina was a gem for letting Jon crash on her couch, but she really needed her couch back. Her husband was a nice guy, but he sometimes made Jon feel like a loser because he didn’t have his own place. Jon really wanted his own place.
Jon started across the room to sit when he stumbled. He took several quick steps to stop himself from falling. Once he regained his footing, he glanced back to see what tripped him up, his face heating. Nothing there.
What the hell?
He mentally rolled his eyes as he found an empty seat by the door and started the long process of waiting. The ten or so people in the room before him meant he’d be there awhile. Things being what they were, Jon would wait as long as he had to for a chance at this job.
He watched several of the other applicants get called into another room, one at a time. Many came back out moments later pale white, which didn’t help Jon’s nerves any. He didn’t know who gave the interviews but they must have been more hard-ass than the bulldog secretary.
Feeling jittery and nervous, Jon got up and walked over to the desk. “Excuse me, ma’am, could you point me to the men’s room?”
“Certainly, Mr. Brighten,” the secretary said, smiling at him once again. “Just go down the hallway to the second door on the left.”
“Thank you.” Jon smiled back then walked out of the office, heading down the hallway. It never hurt to butter up the help. Maybe she’d put in a good word for him with the big boss…and maybe pigs would fly out of his ass.
Jon quickly went to the bathroom. He washed his hands, wet a paper towel, and wiped down his face, surprised he wasn’t sweating buckets. Resting his hands on the edge of the sink, he looked at himself in the mirror.
This is nuts. No way in hell would he get the job. Clearly almost every other applicant far outweighed him in class, education, and experience. Heck, he’d never even seen the inside of an Ivy League school. He’d driven by one once, but that was just to ogle the cute guys. That was probably as close as he would ever get to the upper echelon of high society.
The only thing Jon had was a deep drive to be something better than what he was now. A hunger for success he’d developed in spades after watching his stepfather jump from job to job almost his entire life. Well, when the man wasn’t doing time for some petty crime.
Carl Payne was the perfect example of everything Jon didn’t want to be. The man epitomized lazy, sleazy, and just plain disgusting. His only true pastime seemed to be drinking beer with his slimeball buddies and beating up every member of his family.
Because of his stepfather, Jon never touched alcohol—not even a wine cooler. In his experience, alcohol gave people excuses for the things they did. Jon never wanted to feel so out of control he hurt someone.
He was pretty close to feeling out of control right now, though. His nerves were fried. The economy sucked, and it didn’t seem like anyone was hiring. Jon had a college degree and he couldn’t even get a job flipping burgers.
After overhearing his brother-in-law, Ben, complain to his sister again last night about when Jon would be moving out, Jon decided he’d apply for every job he could find, no matter what, even flipping burgers. He’d do whatever it took—legally anyway—to be able to afford a roof over his head.
Ben wasn’t a bad guy, and he adored Jon’s baby sister, Gina. But they were barely making it financially. Having an extra mouth to feed was hard, even if Jon tried to help out around the house as much as possible. The odd job here and there brought in a little money, but it just wasn’t enough. Jon needed to find his own place.
He took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. He checked his appearance in the mirror, groaning when he spotted the large water spot on his white dress shirt. Just fucking perfect. Could his day get any worse?
He grabbed some dry paper towels and tried to wipe away as much of the water as he could manage. Shaking his head, he tossed the towels in the garbage then ran his fingers through his brown hair, wishing just once the curls would behave themselves. No matter what he did, his hair would just bounce all over the place.
Figuring there was nothing else he could do to make himself any more presentable, Jon made his way back down the hallway to the office. He opened the door and then stopped, glancing around in surprise. The waiting area, filled only a few minutes ago with about a half dozen people waiting to be interviewed, was now totally empty.
Jon took a cautious step into the room, the office door closing behind him with a soft whooshing sound. His heart began to sink as he looked around the empty room and listened for sounds of anyone else.