Never Got Over You -Whitney G. Page 0,18

enough.

Change the time to 7:00 a.m. I want to meet this applicant personally.

CEO, Pier Autumn Coffee

Sean Holmes

the sleepless nights

Kate

“IF YOU ARE LUCKY ENOUGH to be a part of our executive team, here is where you’ll spend most of your Fridays.” The tour guide ushered us into the fiftieth room of the day.

I stifled a yawn as he walked us over to a mock café, and I struggled to keep my eyes open. I’d barely slept since I’d arrived in Seattle, and I was on edge the moment I received the “You’ve been granted and interview” email. I’d downloaded every shareholders’ report, scoured every previous marketing campaign, and watched every commercial the company had ever done over the past several years.

The only thing I didn’t do was look up any news or notes on the CEO. The words “company restructuring” always meant that the CEO could be here today and gone tomorrow. Besides, I preferred to make my own impression of him (or her) when I came in for interviews.

There were fifteen of us vying for the marketing executive slot, and I could tell from the guys’ custom leather shoes and the girls’ Hermes and Birkin bags that they’d all hailed from lucrative Wall Street and hedge fund firms. Places with millions of dollars at their disposal.

As the guide led us into a sleek, great theater room, the “place where you can come get inspired by any movie whenever you need it,” my phone buzzed in my purse.

A text message from Sarah Kay.

Sarah Kay: Hey! Sorry I missed your call the other night. I wired you a couple thousand dollars and express-shipped you a suit and a pair of shoes. (Couldn’t find a decent bag in time, though) Please tell me it arrived before your interview?

Me: It did. Thank you so much. *Again*. (I’ll pay you back for everything someday, I swear.)

Sarah Kay: Don’t worry about it. I hope Seattle works out better for you. (I miss you so much it hurts. You know that, right?)

Me: I hope so, too. (Yes...more than you’ll ever know)

“Um, Miss?” The tour guide’s voice made me look up. “No cell phones are allowed during the tour and interview process. Please turn it off or I’ll be forced to have security escort you from the building.”

“Sorry.” I turned it off and tossed it into my bag. I followed the group through another room and tried to pay attention.

As we entered a hallway that was encased in frosted glass, I couldn’t help but stare at the faint designs that were cut inside the panels.

There were perfectly painted pine trees and a lake I knew all too well―Lake Tahoe. The winding roads were hand drawn under the sloping mountains, and I could make out the faint sketch of Edgewood’s Ferris Wheel. Far in the distance, in the upper right corner, were the haunting shadows that undoubtedly belonged to the Kensington Estate.

Hmmm...

“Our new CEO insisted on making some design changes to the building when he arrived a few years ago,” the tour guide said. “He wanted everything inside this campus to feel like his hometown. Interesting, isn’t it?”

“Very interesting.” I smiled. I’d thought that one of the campus cafes being named “Salted Shores” was a mere coincidence, but now I believed it was a sign.

I’m definitely getting this job ...

“Alright, everyone!” the tour guide said. “Thank you all so much for being willing to complete your group tour portion of the interview at five o’clock in the morning. That’s very dedicated. Now is the time for you to refresh one last time before your interview. Afterwards, I’ll separate you into groups according to your test scores. And no, I won’t tell anyone what their individual score is.”

I made my way into the ladies’ restroom and looked over myself in the mirror, smiling at the form-fitting red dress and sleek grey jacket Sarah Kay sent me.

A brunette stood next to me at the sink and pursed her lips. “I love your beige bag,” she said. “Well, I love what your bag is attempting to be. It’s like a terrible version of a knock off Birkin. Can you tell me where you bought it, so I’ll know to never go there?”

“Becca, stop.” Her blonde friend laughed. “You’re being a little mean. We both know she probably bought it at some corner-shop flea market.”

“That’s exactly where I got it from,” I said, sliding the bag over my shoulder. “The same place where you two got your make-up done. Although, next time, maybe