Metanoia // George Ezra Fanfic

Money Matters

As promised, I went to the interview that my uncle set up for me at this newspaper in the middle of downtown Tuscaloosa. My uncle had informed me that I was going to be speaking with one of the most important men in the business, which made me cringe for two reasons. 

1. Clearly Uncle Elliot's "friend" didn't actually want to meet with me. 

2. Of course I would be meeting with a man. Because my uncle and his friends still lived in the dark ages, when women weren't in positions of power in the workplace. 

I sit in a faux, black leather chair, listening to the rhythmic tapping of the receptionist behind her desk, as she types away on her keyboard. Ugly, modern art hangs on the wall. I'm not opposed to modern art, but I could produce the same result by simply dumping a bucket of paint on a canvas.

Uncle Elliot had warned me to dress up. I know that it is important to dress up for interviews - I've done interviews before. So, I picked out my light blue dress that reminds me of the one Katniss Everdeen wore to the reaping in The Hunger Games. I felt as though I could relate to Katniss right now. 

Job interviews. 

May the odds be ever in your favor.

I saw George before I left this morning and he told me I looked "gorgeous." That really pissed me off. I mean, I knew I looked nice, but that George had the nerve to tell me that I did made my blood boil. 

Although, admittedly, I felt the anger and hurt start ebbing away over the past few days. I couldn't stay angry at George forever, could I? It's George. Sure, I was blindsided, but I couldn't be mad at him for being honest with me. Even if he should have been honest sooner. 

A door opens on the other side of the office, and a young man in a blue button-up shirt steps out.  I'm startled by how young he is, as it is clear to me that he couldn't be more than five years older than myself. He looks to be about 6'4, with a jawline as sharp as a knife and neatly combed brown hair. 

"Everly Tooley is here for her interview, sir." The receptionist says to him without looking away from her computer screen or ceasing typing.

I stand up immediately, giving him a small curtsey. Say what you will about the gesture, but if you want to make a good impression in the south, a lady needs to have manners. This is something my uncle has taught me that I knew to be true. 

"Is that so?" He says, his deep, brown eyes meeting mine. For a moment, he seems to take in my appearance, getting his first impressions. Then, he meets my eyes again, "Well, Ms. Tooley, my name is Draco Baird. I am delighted to meet you. Why don't you step into my office so the two of us can have a good chat?"

 I nod, stepping into his office, "Of course. Charmed to meet you, Mr. Baird."

"Have a seat." He sits behind his desk, looking like an image you would see on the cover of some magazine for the incredibly wealthy. I can practically smell the "old money" on him. From the African Blackwood desk, to the first edition Charles Dickens book sitting on the bookcase behind him. 

Draco flashes a brilliant, white smile at me, "Well, I've heard quite a bit about you. My father is the new CEO of the company, and he normally would have met with you today, but business called him away, so I apologize, but unfortunately, you are stuck with my sub-par interviewing skills."

Ah, his father is the new CEO. Everything makes sense now. 

"Don't apologize." I say, "I am sure whatever your father is doing is very important."

"Well, Ms. Tooley -"

"Please, call me Everly." I say quickly, not used to being addressed so formally by someone so close to my own age.