My short brown hair sticks up in all different directions and I groan in frustration as I stand in front of the mirror. Before I had thought having short hair was a piece of cake, but now it’s just a pain in the ass. I slam the hairbrush down on the vanity before storming out into the apartment bedroom where Zoe waits for me on my futon.
“Please help me with this mess,” I point to the catastrophe on my head. She sets aside the magazine she was reading and motions for me.
“I don’t see how it gets this bad, Shai,” She chuckles as she begins brushing. She continues brushing and spraying hair products in it until its tame and its fairly flat on my head.
I observe her work in the mirror and hug her tightly. “Thank you so much, Zoe. We need to get going now.”
We head out and Zoe drives as I prepare my notes and paperwork. “I still can’t believe you’re actually getting an interview with the Mr. James, head of James incorporated.” Zoe says glancing over at me. “I mean, I’ve heard it’s so hard to hear back from him, let alone actually get an interview to work there!”
“It’s not a big deal, Zoe,” I sigh. “I doubt I’ll even get to see him. It’ll probably be one of his assistants that does the interview.”
“Well, if you do get to see him, take mental note of how he looks. From what I’ve heard he is HOT.” She laughs and winks at me.
“Will do,” I laugh and look out the window as we approach the huge building.
~
I hug my portfolio to my chest as I enter the company building. Immediately I feel out of place. Every other person in there is busty, blonde, and beautiful. Seems like Mr. James has certain physical standards for employees. Now it makes sense to me why I had to send in a picture with my application. But what doesn’t make sense is why I was still called in for an interview. Obviously I don’t fit in with the rest of his workers.
After I stand there waiting for a moment, one of the bodacious blondes approaches me with a smile. “Hello, you must be Miss Woodley?” I respond with a small nod because I seemed to have lost my words. “Great! Just follow me,” She chirps happily.
I follow her to a smaller room with two doors: one connecting to the hallway where we entered, the other to Mr. James’ office I presume. Inside, another overly happy blonde greets me and takes my coat. There’s one way I could fit it, the overall positivity.
“Just wait here. Mr. James will be out in a moment.” Blonde number two says before she leaves me in the room alone. So I am getting to see Mr. James, I think.
Five minutes pass. Then ten. I’m starting to wonder if Mr. James’ company is some set up where they trap people in their huge building, when finally the door swings open and a man steps out. He is tall, tan, muscular, and Zoe was right, he is HOT.
“Miss Woodley?” His voice is deep, and smooth and rough at the same time. I take a deep breath before I walk over to him and speak.
“That would be me,” I say with a smile. If I plan on getting this job I might as well show off one of my characteristics that is the same as the blondes.
I enter his office, which is all painted a warm brown color, and take a seat across from his on the other side of his desk. He notices me taking in the appearance of his office. “Think brown is strange for an office?” He smirks at me.
“Actually I was puzzled by the tv and leather couch in that corner,” I retort. “Seems more like a mancave than an office.” He raises an eyebrow at me in surprise. “Oh gosh, I- I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.”
He chuckles lightly. “That’s quite alright Miss Woodley, or can I call you Shailene?”
“I go by Shai, actually.” I say without thinking.
“I’ll stick with Shailene,” He flashes me a quick smile. “For now…” he mutters.
For a moment there is a silence between us before I speak up. “So, about this job –“
“You aren’t here for a job,” He cuts me off quickly.
“Then what am I here for?” I ask after he doesn’t elaborate. He sets his hands down flat on the desk. I take in his large hands, busted knuckles, and long fingers. He let’s out a sharp breath and pulls his hands back.
“You applied, and I pulled out your form because you sparked my interest. I called you in because I wanted to see you in person.”
He stops speaking, so I take the chance to ask a question. “I don’t understand though. Why did you want to see me in person even though you weren’t looking to give me a job?”
“Is it so wrong to want to see someone in the flesh?” He says matter-of-factly. “Besides, I only could see your face in the picture in your application. I wanted to see all of you.”
“But why does my physical appearance matter?”
“If you haven’t noticed, I have very specific standards for people that work for me.” He answers coolly.
“If you haven’t noticed,” I begin, “I don’t fit your specific standards you have around here. All your workers are blonde, and busty, and look like they could be on the cover of Vouge if they wanted.”
He leans forward, so close to me. “I hire them to work for me because I’m not attracted to them. It doesn’t tempt me when I see them. I have different standards for my personal life. I’m attracted to tall, willowy, feisty brunettes. And it’s a bonus when they can pull off short hair.”
He leans back in his chair and smirks as my eyes widen in realization.
