The boss (english translation)

1

I begin to look at the buildings around me, I am impressed by their towering height, I've never seen anything like this in the city I come from. I am walking along a tree-line avenue on my way to arrive at the famous Embrace Magazine's building. I've read an article on their official website in which they said they were looking for new employees, so I am not going to lose this opportunity. It was the dream of a lifetime to be able to be independent and to have a perfect job.

When I was in high school I would write for the school newspaper, in the fashion section: many people followed my column of fashion advice. I've studied design, fashion and marketing at university, I've concentrated everything in it and now here I am, a twenty-one years old girl, this close to the one-yard line.

I can barely remember my way back home, I'm not sure I will find it easily at the end of the day, but right now all I care about is to cross the threshold of the Embrace Magazine's headquarters, to shake my future boss' hand and to be hired. I hope the weather will stay cloudly and do not degenerate into a storm, 'cause I did my hair this morning and also I didn't take my umbrella with me. For the occasion, I wanted to dare a little so I wore a white jacket matched with skinny jeans of the same colour and a tight black top. I want to look simple but unusual at the same time. A girl who leaves her mark, I mean. I want everyone to remember me and it is known that the first impression is what really counts, especially in the fashion industry. I'm wearing a necklace that bounces on my chest every step I take. I look up to admire the imposing building where I'm hopefully going to work. I take a deep breath and before entering I snuffle through my pochette with golden studs - combined to my jewels - and I extract my Marlboro Gold from it. I open the pack, bringing it closer to my mouth nervously, letting my lips tighten around a cigarette and helping myself with my finger to pull it out of the package. I reach my hand in the pocket of my pants in which I put my lighter. With great difficulty, because of the wind and the anxiety, I can't light my cigarette on the first attempt so I have to try several times and it's upsetting me even more than I already am.

"Shit." I swear to myself, blaming the weather. Finally, I'm able to light it up and take a shot of it. I exhale a cloud of smoke gradually calming myself down and letting me lay down on a bench near me. Crossing my legs I start to admire my black boots on my feet, to distract myself and to avoid getting nervous because of the job interview I'm going to deal with soon. All around me there's a swirling traffic of rushed people with typical Monday morning stressed faces.

***

This elevator is too slow for my liking and there is so much silence here that the accelerated beat of my heart can be heard. I drum my fingers on the hip while waiting to get on the top floor, where the boss is waiting for me. I've heard that he's a weird man, Richard Styles, the most popular fashion designer of the moment; all the gossip magazines talk about him: his dating life is always privileged on any other news and it's made public without problems. It seems like the whole world has been involved in his four failed weddings, in the birth of his children, in the funeral of his pets - every detail of his life as a billionaire is slammed in everyone who dares to buy a newspaper's face. He seems to love being in the spotlight no matter what and he's not ashamed to admit it. In addition to this, another characteristic of him is that he is totally mean to everyone who does not agree with his warped way of thinking... A quite eccentric personality, you know. All these factors contribute to raise the rate of anxiety inside and to twist my guts and also they're making me tremble but I will deal it with my head held high like I did with any other obstacle in my life... I hope. It's the most amazing magazine I know and I will do everything I'm able to do to work here and contributing in any way I can. My thoughts are interrupted by the sound of the elevator doors that open and suddenly I find myself in front of a huge, empty hall. At the end of the room, there's a double mahogany wood door that clashes with the white of the squares on the floor - sparkling thanks to the light filtering through the glass partitions. I take a breath and work up the nerves, so step by step I walk toward a sexy secretary sits up straight at her glass desk, next to Mr. Styles' closed door.