Heavy Wears The Crown

One

"Don't get too close it's dark inside, it's where my demons hide"
----- Demons - Imagine Dragons -----

"Miss Reid." The interviewer who had actually neglected to introduce herself skimmed over my resume reluctantly. This was not the kind of interview one could easily prepare for.

There were no "where do you see yourself in five years" or "so what attracts you to our company."

I fought the nervous urge to play with my hair or adjust my skirt and forced a smile instead. "Please, call me Carter."

"Carter." She repeated still looking down at my resume. "You're quite qualified."

Over qualified. That was the problem. I had gone to Yale, I had graduated top of my class, valedictorian and had been a personal assistant to the dean himself the entire four years, my last semester I juggled school, being his assistant, and interning at a large agency which I had been hired on to immediately after graduation. Everything was fabulous, my life was fabulous.

Until mom got sick. I had taken only two months from work, she deteriorated so fast it was over before it really even started. When she passed and it became time to find a job again well. That wasn't working so well.

I was over qualified, had worked with higher classed clients than what many other company was dealing with. They felt I wouldn't stay, the pay wouldn't suite me, over qualified.

"I've been a personal assistant before and I've worked with high classed clients. I'm completely comfortable around someone of his stature."

She glanced to my resume again, down the table to my job, and then back to me. "Look, Miss. Reid, you seem...nice, really nice but I just don't think-"

"I can do this." I said quickly.

"It's a lot of traveling." She countered quickly.

This time I glanced to my job. The fabulously famous singer and song writer seated at the head of the table drinking his scotch like we weren't even present. Leaning back on his chair, feet on the table, a pen force between his nose and a pouted lip and staring blankly at a notebook on his lap. His eyes were deep and smoldering as he glared at the empty notebook. His dark and tangled locks of hair could desperately use a comb through and perhaps even a bit of shampoo. Looking at him was terrifying. Every scowl he shot, ever tear in his clothing, everything screamed train wreck.

"I've always wanted to travel." I said and turned back to her. "I've been on planes before, I have no fear of heights, I don't get carsick. I can do this."

"Alright. I'm going to be frank with you." She said finally. "Nolan is, uh, difficult."

I glanced to him again. He was writing now still not looking up. It seemed odd to be talking about him as though he wasn't even here. Then again, was he all here? Who knew what sort of things this guy took before this interview.

"Most of the people we've had in here were, well, let's say pretty hardcore. We've tried some of his biggest fans even, thinking they'd be more excited and prepared to deal with his...shenanigans, I just think you're too nice and over-"

"I'm hardcore." I grimaced after I said it knowing exactly how silly I sounded. "Listen. I'm not his biggest fan, and maybe I'm not the biggest badass out there, but I am someone who severely needs a job and I'm a hard worker. You have my resume right in front of you. I don't quit anything. I can do this. I mean maybe it'll be a good thing."

"Pick a number." Nolan said suddenly. I had only heard his voice when singing, I had never heard him actually just talking. His voice was deeper than I had expected and his accent immediately annoyed me.