Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 63716 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 319(@200wpm)___ 255(@250wpm)___ 212(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63716 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 319(@200wpm)___ 255(@250wpm)___ 212(@300wpm)
Willow and I sat down at the conference table. Because of where and how Miller had chosen to sit, our chairs closer as if it were the two of us interviewing the director instead of the other way around. As we began, I studied her out of the corner of my eye, more interested in her poise than her answers. This job was all about how you handled yourself–and could you handle yourself around Miller?
It was immediately clear that Willow could. Miller did his best to bait her, but she made his attempts look clumsy with how easily she shut him down or deflected his comments. Even though he had to have been ten years older than she was, she somehow came off like a patient older sister who was used to managing a squirrely younger brother. I could tell that it irritated Miller. He doubled down on his efforts. Willow counteracted by making her tone even more tolerant.
Finally, exhausted, Miller scowled at her and stood up. “I’m going back to the beach,” he announced belligerently, as if daring me to argue.
Taking a page out of Willow’s book, I kept my voice even. “We’re in the middle of an interview, Miller.”
“I’ve seen all I need to see. Hire this one.” He flapped his hand at Willow. “She’ll do.”
“How nice of you to say,” Willow trace, only the faintest trace of irony in her voice.
I cut her a look, half amused, half annoyed with the both of them. “That’s not how it works, Miller. As I mentioned, I get final say on this hire. HR is getting tired of the new hire paperwork considering this is the fourth time they’ve had to do it.”
Miller was already heading for the door. He flipped his hand up, like he wanted to give us both the finger, but he managed to restrain himself and keep all five fingers up. It was just barely a goodbye instead of a fuck you, but pretty good for Miller. Then he banged his way out of my office, said something loudly to my executive assistant on the way out about a waste of good waves, and we heard his clomping footsteps fade down the hall.
Willow and I had both been staring at the door, but now, slowly, we looked back at each other. She raised an eyebrow questioningly. “Did I get the job?”
I pinched the bridge of my nose again. Did she? I didn’t fucking know. Her resume was great. I had no doubt her references would be the same. She would absolutely be able to handle Miller. My only question was–would he be able to handle her? I pulled my hand away from my face and did my best to hide my irritation. “We’re still in the middle of the interview process, but we’ll be in touch,” I said smoothly.
Willow glanced pointedly toward Miller’s empty seat, then she stood up and held out her hand. “Thanks so much for your time, Mr. Lewis.”
I took her hand automatically, and a jolt ran up the length of my arm all the way to my elbow. I tightened my grip reflexively. Willow’s eyes widened fractionally, and she pulled her hand out of mine with a jerk. We both stared at each other, the air thickening with tension around us. I opened my mouth to apologize, but I didn’t know what for. I didn’t know if she’d even felt the jolt, or if the wary look in her eyes was because I’d clamped down on her hand like one of us was falling.
“I–thank you,” I said, trying to get my bearings.
I stayed on my feet until she let herself out of my office, then I sank down into the chair. I had no doubt she was going to be the best interview, but how the hell was I going to hire a woman who kept knocking me off balance like this?
5
WILLOW
There was no doubt in my mind I’d gotten the job. The falsified resume and references that Fletcher put together for me might have done it by itself, but on top of that, I knew I’d nailed the interview. Miller was your classic, temperamental, didn’t-want-to-be-understood genius.
I understood that. My mom, after the fiasco with Fletcher, had dated a dozen creatives just like Miller. They were drawn to her startling, stunning, unusual beauty. She became their muse. Artists painted her. Composers wrote songs about her. Writers wrote books about her. Watching her with each of these pseudo-stepfather figures had taught me exactly how to handle a man like Miller. Patiently but firmly. Recognize the brilliance but shut down the shit. If you worship the ground they walk on, they’ll walk all over you.
Even though Julian Lewis, the winner of the nepotism lottery, had tried to play it cool, I knew that he wasn’t going to hire anyone else. Who else could handle Miller? Three other production assistants clearly hadn’t, and now he was desperate.