A Change in Direction: Chapter One

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Chapter One

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“Bella,” my good friend Alice called cheerfully as she came into my tiny trailer without even bothering to knock. She knew that she was always welcomed, anyway. She really didn't like my place, but she didn't say a word about it. It was the best that I could do. Though she had told me many times before that if I needed somewhere else to live, or if I needed help, for me to call on her and her husband, Jasper. “I brought you some tea,” she sang, plopping it down on the only free space on my coffee table. Almost everything was covered in papers. 

“Thanks,” I smiled just slightly as I pushed my reading glasses onto the top of my head. I picked up the hot paper cup and popped off the top, blowing the steam away. “You didn't have to do that.”

“Ah, I would have felt like an asshole if I got myself some coffee from Starbucks and didn't bring you anything. Trust me, this is more about my feelings than yours,” she smirked as she sat down beside me. Her clothes perfectly matched and were in season, from what I was told. She made a lot of her own, but they were usually better quality than what you could get at the stores. It was actually how she made extra money. Alice made kid’s outfits and sold them on the internet. Jasper had a great job in the oil and gas industry, and they didn't really require it. But I think that she needed a hobby. Plus, her closets were full. She had to do something other than making herself sundresses and aprons. Oh, and purses. So many damn bags.

Thoughtfully, I took a sip of the hot tea. It was green, the relaxing scent wafting up my nose in steamy curls. It was lovely. Honestly, it made my day a lot more pleasant. There weren't that many happy things in my life anymore. Alice knew that, but neither of us would mention it. She just tried to help in any way that she could. 

“How goes the hunting?” Alice asked, pulling me out of my musings. “Any luck?”

“Not really,” I shrugged, taking a careful sip before speaking again. “If I were a nurse, none of this wouldn't be a problem. Damn, I picked the wrong degree.”

“If you just didn't pass out at the sight of blood...” Alice trailed off with a smirk, tilting her head slightly in amusement. “I can imagine it. The first time that you had to do an IV or something-”

“They'd have to put me in the bed with the patient,” I laughed, laying my head back against the couch cushion. 

“Well,” Alice giggled before clearing her throat. “I might have something for you. Jasper says that the new main office for Eagle needs a secretary for the lobby. You'd direct calls and tell people where to go. It's not in your field, I know, but...”

“But it's something,” I sighed. “Do you know how much it pays?” I questioned curiously. It didn't really matter, but I was interested. 

“Like eleven dollars an hour. They have free basic benefits and a 401k that they match up to twenty-five percent, too. It would be from eight to five, five days a week.” Alice shrugged, taking another sip of her milk-colored coffee. She always put way too much creamer in it. “They have a big IT department, and maybe one day, you could move up.”

“Maybe,” I answered doubtfully. “How do I apply?”

“Just take your resume up there tomorrow. They're off Clyde Fant Parkway. You know where that golf course that used to be by the river. Ask them to give it to Mr. Masen and make sure to put Jasper as a personal reference.”

“Not a problem,” I replied, thinking about my resume. Jasper had been on it for ages. It had been one of the few things that hadn't changed when I rewrote it several times, trying to get the best results. “Business casual?” I inquired next, looking down at my clothes. She would be an expert in the field.

“Wear that nice brown suit that I made you. You know the one with the vest and flared pants. Or the black one with the skirt,” she started, her voice getting higher pitched like she did every time that she spoke about clothes. Alice had made me several ‘interview outfits’ over the past couple of years. I would have refused them if I didn’t know how much she enjoyed making them. Besides, they fit better than anything that I could buy at the store since they were tailored to my body shape. 

“So, who is Mr. Masen?”

“Jasper's boss's boss. I'm not sure. I've never met him.” Alice shrugged again, swirling her nearly empty coffee cup. “He's like the big boss's son or something. I don't know. I just know that he takes care of all the hiring. Director of Operations is his title. Jasper says that he’s good at his job. If he's not an idiot, he’ll hire you.”

“Yeah,” I scoffed at her sort of compliment. She knew that I didn't like them, so she found little ways to sneak them in there as much as possible.

We were silent for a long while after that, the only sounds that could be heard were the random passing of cars and trucks on the highway not too far from my place. The clock clicked forward loudly. 

“What if I don't find anything?” I asked, breaking the stillness. “What if I'm not even good enough for fast food?”

“It's not about being good enough,” Alice sighed, setting her cup down. Her fingers curled around it anxiously. “It's just that everyone is hard up. Everyone is looking for a job. I know that it's tough, but you can't think like that.”

“Was my degree a complete waste?” I whispered, beginning to choke up at the words. “Did I honestly waste four years of my life on something pointless? All the jobs I'm applying to these days don't even need a GED. I could have dropped out of school and worked at Burger King or something. I could have been a general manager by now and making fifty thousand a year if I had done that.”

“Times are different from when we were in high school. Bella, you're only twenty-seven. This is just the beginning. The world isn't always going to be like this. Computers aren't going anywhere. You will be needed. You will find a job.”

Roughly, I ran my palm over the side of my face and through my hair before sniffling quietly. “Yeah.”

“How about this? You take the rest of the day off and come over to my place for dinner? Jasper and I are grilling out. Maybe I can give you a facial and do your nails. I think that you need a little spa treatment.”

I hated being fussed over, but I needed a break. More so, I needed a distraction. “Sure,” I shrugged. “Why not?”

The next day was dismal and gray, raining for the first time in forever. Louisiana had been suffering from a drought, and it was just making things worse all around for the farmers in the area. I had missed it, but it wasn’t what I needed. The humidity made my hair puff out like a poodle, and I wasn’t sure where I put my umbrella, so I had to go without it. 

I ran to the glass door of the brand-new building, having to splash through enough puddles to soak my pants up to my knees. At least the brown suit hid most of the mud. I clutched my faux leather case to my chest, praying that it wouldn't get wet and ruin my resume. It was the last thing that I wanted. The paper was pricey, and I didn't need to waste it. Not even a single sheet.

Drowned rat didn't cover how I looked when I finally made it inside. I stopped just outside the door, trying to shake off some of the extra water like a dog. The girl at the front desk frowned at me, adjusting her headset and looking away as she rolled her eyes. I wanted to growl at her, but I decided not to. It didn't seem like a wise idea. I would have to deal with her in a few moments, and I needed her to be somewhat helpful.

When I was at least partially satisfied in my efforts at moisture reduction, I made my way towards the desk. I pulled out the paper and cleared my throat. “Hi. My name is Isabella Swan. I'm here to drop off my resume with Mr. Masen's office. Jasper Whitlock said that there was a position open.” I hoped that name-dropping right away would help me. 

I was always wrong.

The girl pursed her overly lipstick covered mouth and blinked at me for a moment. “Um… Okay,” she drew out, fluttered her spider lashes at me. It surprised me that her eyes didn't stick shut with the amount of mascara that she was wearing. I hated it when already pretty women wore layers of lousy makeup. It just screamed of a lack of confidence. And it appeared cheap, a look this bottle-blond certainly achieved. Her roots were terrible.

Usually, I tried not to be too judgemental, but something about her rubbed me the wrong way. I didn’t need her to rain on my parade any more than Louisiana already was.

I was just going to drop the resume off at the front desk and hope for the best, but with the looks of the witless wonder in front of me, I needed to give it to his personal secretary for the optimal results. She continued to just stare at me, not being of any use. This was the greatest chance that I had come across in months, and I would not let her laziness or stupidity ruin it for me. 

“Can you direct me towards his office, please?” I smiled pleasantly, still trying not to be rude to her.

She tilted her head to the side, pushing her headset back a little as she glared at me in annoyance. “Look, I know that Mr. Whitlock said that there was a position open, but there isn't, so run along now. Have a good day.” She smiled at me with fake sincerity. It dawned on me then. The temp wanted the position permanently. Or maybe she wasn't the temp, but she knew that she was going to be replaced. Either way, it was a cut-throat business, and I would not let her scare me. I didn't care if she was five years younger than me, six sizes smaller, and had breasts as big as my head. 

Honestly, her top was so tight and low cut that if she sneezed, they would have fallen right out. 

“Well, EITHER WAY,” I said more loudly than I intended, “I think I'll give my resume to Mr. Masen. You know, just in case a position opens up soon.”

With that, I raised my chin high and walked over to the elevators. I would try every floor if I had to until I found his office. But then I heard her speak in a nasally voice, with all politeness gone. “Like someone would hire your fat ass,” she snarled under her breath.

She was just the bitch that broke the cranky girl's back. 

“Alright, you listen, and you listen good, little girl,” I growled as I pointed directly at her Barbie doll nose. “Just because I eat and I’m not a size two doesn't mean that I’m fat. And for your information, I graduated in the top five percent of my class. I was on the dean's list, and I finished with top honors. And if you can do this job, apparently any dumb ass can.”

“Dumb ass? You're calling me a dumb ass?” She shrieked as she stood, knocking the chair back a few feet. We took a few steps towards each other as if we were about to break into a Westside story style rumble. It was a little ridiculous.

Admittedly, it was going a bit too far, but I wasn't about to back down. In for a penny, in for a pound. “Do you need me to define it for you, or are you smart enough to look it up on Wikipedia? Your job is to direct people to wherever they need to go. It doesn't matter if you like them or not. You do your job. Your opinion doesn't matter. You should be grateful that you have one right now at all. If your attitude is any indication, you won't have one for long.”

“Look, you stupid, ugly cun-” The girl began but was cut off by a deep voice behind us. 

“That will be enough out of you,” he snapped loudly. I whipped around to see a nice looking and very well put together man in a black business suit. He had a slight smirk on his face, his deep green eyes practically dancing with mischief. If I were a better judge of moods, I would have thought he looked amused. He cleared his throat, and without turning his gaze away from me, he said, “Lauren, go up to my office, so we can have a few words.”

“Yes, Mr. Masen.”

Well, shit... 

Lauren, the blond bitch as she would always be dubbed in my head, took off her headset and scampered off to the elevators. She pressed the button several times, jabbing it as if being rough would make the thing come down faster. I sighed and swallowed, trying to get the taste of my cheap pumps out of my mouth. 

“Yeah, sorry about that. I'll just be going now before you call security.”

He chuckled and took a step towards me, bringing one of his hands up. “I thought you had a resume to turn into me. I assume for her position.” He nodded his head towards the elevator. “I can assure you that it is completely open, no matter what she says.”

“How did you-” I stuttered out, pointing to myself then looking down at the paper that was now crumpled from my frustrated hands. He hadn’t been in the lobby when I went into the building.

“I actually saw you come in. I was just in the copy room over there,” he explained simply before pointing towards a door on the far side of the room. “And I heard the whole thing. I'm sorry about that, by the way. What she said to you was awful and unacceptable.” Leaning in, he lowered his voice. “I'm glad that someone finally told that snide bitch off. I wouldn't have put her down here if she wasn't a business friend's daughter.”

“Oh.” I swallowed, not sure what else to say to him. I still felt like an idiot even if he was very gracious about the whole mess.

“So,” Mr. Masen began, nodding his head towards my hand and the thick pearl-colored paper. “May I?”

With a shaking fist, I brought the resume up to offer to him. I was totally speechless, and more than a little embarrassed. He took it from me and smirked in a way that made my cheeks hot. Or maybe it was the fact that he was so good-looking. I always got a little stupid around handsome men. I never felt comfortable because I knew that they weren't in the same league as me. Mr. Masen and I were undoubtedly stadiums apart.

He was older than me, maybe by ten years at the most. There were a few faint wrinkles around the edges of his eyes, but they made him seem more... businesslike. I wasn’t sure if that was the right way to describe it, but Mr. Masen was attractive. His nose was long and straight, coming to a sharp but pleasant point. If I had to guess, I would have said that he was part English or French. Something along those lines. His hair was a deep brown with wisps of red, hinting at a bit of Irish. His skin was nearly ivory except for the natural blush across both of his cheeks.

Suddenly I felt too warm, so I slipped off my wet jacket and put it over my arm. Mr. Masen's eyes darted down for a moment, looking over my tattered and damp clothing before glancing down at my resume. At least he was polite enough not to stare at my awful appearance, and I hoped that it wouldn't influence his decision.

“So, Jasper said that he was sending someone my direction for this position. I can only assume that's you. I see that you have some reception desk experience, though it's been a few years.”

“Yeah,” I cleared my throat nervously. “Soil Stabilizers Construction and Northwest Developmental School, each for about two years.”

“I see that they were during the same time,” he commented, still reading.

“I tried my best to pay off as much of my schooling while I was in college as possible, so I wouldn't have to worry about as many student loans. I worked during the day at Soil Stabilizers and nights at the school.”

“How do you work nights as a receptionist at a school?” He questioned with a slightly raised eyebrow. 

“Well, it's not really a school. That's just what they call it. It's a sort of home for those who have physical and mental disadvantages. Almost like a nursing home, but with more freedom. They had a receptionist at all times to direct calls and visitors. There wasn't a lot going on at night, but it gave me a chance to earn money and still get to study,” I explained hastily.

He nodded in understanding. “And I see that you still managed to maintain a perfect GPA. When did you sleep?”

“I can sleep when I'm dead,” I sighed, thinking about how grateful I would be for one job, let alone two. I would work my ass off for anything at that point. 

“So, a degree in Computer Science. That's not a field with very many women. It's refreshing to see a female in that role,” Mr. Masen mused.

Scoffing, I smirked a little. “Yes, but you are kind of pointing out the problem as well. It's a field nearly completely dominated by men who have been doing it for a very long time. It's hard to edge your way in there,” I explained, suddenly feeling very awkward. “Especially in this area where gender roles seem to be...” I trailed off, not entirely how to finish the sentence without being offensive. 

He frowned for a moment, his eyes never leaving my resume. I wondered what he was getting from the simple sheet. The man was hard to read.

“It's been a couple of years since you last had a job,” he finally stated.

And that's all that he said. The phrase was rather crushing for some reason. It seemed like now I couldn't get a job because I hadn't had one in such a long time. It was becoming a vicious cycle. 

“Yeah,” I said as I took a deep breath. I realized that I would only have one chance with him, and I needed to take my shot. “Look, here's the deal: I am desperate, and I don't know what to do. I would do anything that you can throw at me. And I swear to you, I would work harder than any other person here. I would work nights, and I would work weekends. I'd be here eighty hours a week if you asked. If you tell me to scrub toilets or clean the windows, I will. I can type, I can file, I can fix your hard drive, and I can make some damn good coffee. I just need a chance. Please.”

You could have heard a pin drop after my little monologue. I wanted to kick myself. I should have just left when the bitch called me fat. 

Mr. Masen bit his lip for a moment before sighing. He folded the paper and placed it in his pant's pocket before pulling something out of his suit jacket. It was a little white rectangle. “I'll tell you what, I'll give you my card and I want you to come by tomorrow for a proper interview. I'm here from eight in the morning until eight at night most of the time, so anytime in there. I believe that I may have a position that I want to discuss in greater detail.”

“Seriously?” I nearly squealed before I regained control of myself. Taking it from his fingertips, I beamed. “Sure. I'll be here bright and early if that works for you.”

“Anytime, Ms. Swan. Just come straight to my office. Don't worry about the front desk. Oh, and here.” He handed me something black and compact out of another pocket. I looked at it in confusion. “Take my umbrella. It's coming down pretty hard outside, and you seem wet enough as it is. I'd hate for you to catch a cold.”

Taking it from his hands without saying a word, I wasn't sure what I could. Then I realized that I was being rude. I swallowed back my nerves. “Thanks,” I finally muttered. “I'll see you in the morning.”

“Of course,” he replied with a chuckle. “I should be thanking you. You telling her off was probably the funniest thing that I've seen all week.”

With that, the handsome businessman turned and walked away. But I stayed rooted there in my spot. I was nearly too shocked to move. Gazing at the umbrella for several moments, my feet were unsure what to do next for some reason. I still didn’t know what had happened exactly. A loud clap of thunder finally knocked me out of my stupor. 

Getting darker outside, I decided that I needed to get back home before it got any worse. I had a lot to think about anyway, and maybe just a little to celebrate. Before I did, I picked up a pint of generic ice cream for a dollar from the grocery store. I ate the whole thing while watching cheesy daytime television.

And it was delicious. 

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