Her Little Helper

Chapter 1

*Abigail's POV*

The city whirled around me as I walked along the sidewalk. I had just arrived a week ago after finishing my degree in computer science. I had grown up in a rural area, maybe 300 people lived in my hometown. It was the kind of place where everyone knew everything about everyone else. Secrets were never well-kept and escape sometimes felt impossible. But escape is exactly what I managed. 

Now, I live in the city. It's a whole new world to me, and it has been an unforgiving one. In the seven days since arriving, I've had, and failed, seven job interviews at various companies. "You aren't quite what we're looking for," one said. "We feel that you won't fit in well with the corporate environment," said another. All I want is a silly little I.T. job so I can sit at my silly little desk and not have to talk to anyone. Is that too much to ask?

So far, it certainly has been too much to ask. See, I'm not what you would call much of a people-person. So job interviews are definitely not my cup of tea. And dealing with the corporate bigwigs in this city has not helped the crushing anxiety that I feel every time I walk into one. 

 I tried my best to look as professional as I possibly could for this interview. I really can't fail this time. I'm running out of money and I need a job now, or I won't even be able to afford food for this week, never mind this month's rent. You'd think a shitty studio apartment like mine wouldn't be too expensive. But, in the city, nothing is cheap, and the money I saved up to move here is already about to run out. 

I looked up at the building ahead of me, craning my head to see to the top of the high-rise. Monroe Industries was inscribed simply but elegantly above the white stone doorway. Walking in, I was greeted with a grimace by the 40-something man at the front desk. He stared me up and down in apparent disgust before he spoke in a rude tone.

"May I help you?" he said dismissively. I understood that working the front desk of a major tech company might not be the best of jobs, but that doesn't mean he has to be mean to me. 

"I-I have an in-interview," I stuttered out nervously. "W-with the I.T. d-department."

"I see." The man replied, his rude tone unwavering. "And this is what you wear to an interview?"

I looked down at my outfit worryingly. It was a cream-colored sweater with a black box pleat skirt, navy blue knee-high socks, and brown oxford shoes. It wasn't what a corporate board-member would wear, I'll give him that. But it's the closest I could come to wearing a professional outfit. If he didn't like it that was his problem!

My eyebrows furrowed in frustration as he grinned at my attire. I was about to stomp my foot in anger when I heard a voice come from behind me. It startled me, making me forget about my irritation. It was soothing yet stern, calm but commanding. 

"Charles, please make a reservation at Vincenzo's for 7 o'clock tonight. I'm meeting some potential clients and want to make sure we won't have to wait for a table."

The man, Charles, I suppose, nodded in affirmation.

Curious about where such a voice could come from, I turned around to find a woman towering above my petite 5'2" frame. Her all-black outfit consisting of a button-up shirt, blazer, and pencil skirt made her intimidating to look at. I met her gaze for a brief second before quickly shifting them to my feet. She chuckled at that.

"And who is this?" She asked, her voice still stern but with a hint of playful curiosity.

My cheeks were flushed red. I haven't ever enjoyed attention, and having the attention of a woman like this was nothing short of terrifying. I think she could tell how flustered I had become by her presence because she looked from me to Charles in an attempt to find an answer to her question.

"She's here for a job interview." Charles responded, the dismissiveness still very much present in his tone. "For... I.T., I think it was." I nodded, still avoiding eye contact with the tall woman. "I can send her away, Ms. Monroe. I know we get applicants regularly who don't quite belong in a place like this."

I returned my gaze towards him returning to my state of annoyance. "Hey!" I yelled angrily, catching him off guard. "You can't just send me away, I have an interview scheduled!" I stomped my foot and crossed my arms, feeling tears starting to well up in my eyes. 

"That won't be necessary, Charles," said Ms. Monroe. "I'll take her to the I.T. department on my way upstairs."

"Are you sure, Ma'am?" asked Charles confusedly. 

"Yes, I'm positive, Charles, it's really no trouble," she responded sternly. 

I looked up at her, feeling half relieved and half terrified to get into an elevator alone with this intimidating woman. 

"Come." she said calmly while starting toward the elevator, yet somehow clearly meant it as a command. I followed quickly, getting the feeling that being on this woman's bad side was not a good place to be.

Getting into the elevator, she pressed the appropriate button and we started going up.

I sat in what I felt was uncomfortable silence, too afraid to start small talk yet anxious about being awkwardly quiet. I was relieved to hear the woman's voice.

"What's your name, sweetie?" She asked me.

"I-I'm Abby," I replied nervously. "Well, Abigail. Abigail Lawson. But all my friends call me Abby." 

"It's very nice to meet you, Abigail." said Ms. Monroe, her voice smooth as silk yet sharp as a knife. 

"What's yours?" I asked, wanting to avoid more awkward silence. She looked at me with a hint of confusion on her face, as though I was supposed to already know who she was.

"I'm Savannah, sweetheart. Savannah Monroe." 

It took a second for me to put two and two together. 

"Wait, you're the Savannah Monroe? Like, the head of this company?" I asked shocked. Yet I quickly began to realize how stupid I was for not making that connection sooner. 

She smiled as the elevator came to a stop, it's doors opening to our floor. "The very one."