Essentialism (Bridgette & Troy's Story) (5 page)

“Whatever, Troy. People don’t get hired based solely on their attire. But since you’re here, wanna help me decide which shoes?”

He chuckles. “Sure.”

I start to put a shoe on and get a little off balance. He steadies me and I look at him as his hand grips my arm – he has such a firm grip. Once I have both shoes on, I take a step back and look at him questioningly.

“Which ones look better?”

“The man in me says the red, but for an interview I would go with the black.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“Thank you. I can’t find the shoes I planned on wearing so I was a bit perplexed. What brings you here anyways?” I ask as I take them off.

Outstretching his long arm, he hands me the Macy’s bag. “I got this for you.”

“Troy, you didn’t need to buy me anything.”

“I know I didn’t; I wanted to.”

Smiling at him, I take the bag and pull out the box. I can’t contain my excitement when I see what he’s bought me. “Holy shit! You did not buy me Juicy perfume.”

“Yup, I did. Now I have no doubt you’ll get the job.”

“Thank you so much,” I exclaim throwing my arms around his neck.

“No problem. You’re gonna do great. I know it.”

“Thanks for saying that. I don’t know why, but I’m really nervous.”

“That’s normal. This is a great opportunity, with a huge firm. Can I help with anything?”

“You’ve done enough; I don’t want to bother you with my worries and self-doubt.”

Stepping closer to me, he takes my hands in his and looks down at me. “If anyone knows about self-doubt, it’s me. You gotta let it go. Tell me what’s on your mind.”

Giving him a half smile, I agree, nodding my head. “Do you mind if I change real quick?”

“Go right on ahead. I’ll wait out here for you.”

“Thanks. There are some beers in the fridge if you want one,” I say entering my room.

“Do you want one?” he yells in at me.

“No, thanks.”

Quickly, I remove my new clothes and hang them back up. I slide on my jean capris and yellow tank top from earlier. As I emerge from my room, Troy is on the couch checking his phone. I sit next to him and he sets it in front of him saying, “I got you a water since you didn’t want a beer.”

Opening it, I take a sip and pull my feet underneath me. “Thank you.”

“No problem. Now talk to me,” he says. “Tell me what’s stressing you.”

“I don’t know. I’m worried the minute they ask me a question, I’m gonna clam up.”

“It’s probably because you want the job so much. All you can do is take some deep breaths and have a game plan.”

“I can take deep breaths, but the game plan…that’s a whole other story.”

“Hey, I’m all yours tonight. Let’s make a game plan together. I’m pretty good at interviewing myself, so between the two of us we got this in the bag.”

I smile at him and lie back on the armrest of the couch. Lying there, I look at the ceiling, and he grabs my feet, placing them in his lap. I tense at his touch, contemplating letting him do this. But it’s only my feet, there’s no harm in that.

“Tell me what you know about the position,” he says, beginning to rub them.

Mmmm, that feels good.
His hands are big and strong. He definitely knows what he’s doing and the pressure…it’s just right. I close my eyes and begin to speak. Troy listens attentively, giving me his opinion and advice at all the right times. He’s extremely smart and the little tips he adds here and there give me that much more confidence. Things like making eye contact, connecting with each interviewer.

Glancing at the clock, it’s after nine. Troy and I talked forever. We got off the interviewing subject and talked about everything else instead. I learned he’s from Colorado as am I. He’s huge into snowboarding, like I am, and we promised to go up to Loveland Ski Basin the day it opens. He has a younger sister and his parents are still married. From what he said, it sounds like he gets along great with his mom, but the relationship with his dad is a bit strained.

“Will you call me as soon as you’re done tomorrow?” he asks.

“Of course. Are you working?”

“Yeah.”

We get up and head to the door. “Good-bye,” I say and hug him. I don’t want him to leave. Hanging out with him feels so good and is easy.

“Good luck tomorrow and sleep well, Bridge,” he says, pressing his warm lips against my forehead. I squeeze him tightly and then let go. As we separate, he grabs my hand and holds it until we are too far apart to stay connected. I watch as he closes the door and I lock it behind him.

God, I need to figure out what the hell I’m doing. My feelings for Troy are growing and I can’t stop them. It’s like they are on a roller coaster and the bar’s locked; there’s no getting off the ride for me now. Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t. This is all a mess, and I’m so worried that at any moment this is all going to blow up in my face. As I set my alarm clock for the morning, I notice David hasn’t called. After tonight with Troy, I have to do something. I need to talk to David and be honest. I love hanging out with Troy and I don’t want to stop. He’s become such a good friend and I think he wants more, or at least I hope he does. I don’t know if I should ask him where his head is. I don’t want to assume that he wants to be with me, if he doesn’t. He might just enjoy being friends. He’s never pushed himself on me, always being such a gentleman.

Jesus, this is such a clusterfuck. I guess I can only handle one thing at a time. Next up is my interview and I need to do extremely well. I need this job not only because of my finances, but also for my sanity. I can’t live on my student loans and handouts from my sister forever. I already live here rent-free.

I wake excited, refreshed, and ready for what the day holds. I check my phone as I roll out of bed and notice a text from Cara.

Good luck today. I crashed at Abel’s because it was close to the hospital. Can you believe my ankles are already starting to swell?

I giggle at her message, unable to imagine her with any part of her body swollen. I’m sure she’s exaggerating.
Thanks, sweetie. I’m sure your feet are fine. Will I see you tonight?

Yup, I’ll be home around 7:30. I’m working a twelve-hour shift today.

Good, ‘cause Troy stopped by last night and we talked and he rubbed my feet and… I need some advice.

OMG, I want details tonight!

I laugh at her and begin getting ready for the day. I decide to flat iron my hair, to keep it all tame. Normally, I wear it curly or messy, but I want a clean, polished look. I put on more make-up than I usually do and decide to pull my bangs back as they keep hanging in my eyes.

I dress and do one last lookover of myself in the mirror. My grey pencil skirt and black blouse complete the look.
You got this, Bridge,
I say to myself before heading out of my room. Grabbing my resumes and purse, I lock up and leave. Once I’m behind the wheel of my car, I plug my phone in and pick an upbeat song for my drive. There’s nothing like a little Ellie Goulding to start the day off right. My phone beeps, interrupting the song. I glance down at it and read the message from Troy.

Good luck today. You got this, Bridge.

I can’t help but smile; that’s what I just said to myself. Pulling onto the freeway, traffic is stopped. I’m thankful I gave myself extra time. As I creep along, Ellie sings about chasing love and I wonder if that’s what I’m doing with Troy.

Turning into the parking lot of the high-rise that I hope will be my new workplace, I park and head in.

On the elevator ride up, I check my phone one last time and put it on silent. There are no new text messages, but I quickly respond to Troy’s earlier one.
Thank you, I’ll call you when I’m done.

The doors open to the twenty-ninth floor. Behind an oval desk is a red-haired receptionist, and her nameplate reads “Autumn.” She smiles at me as I approach. “Welcome to Smith, Brown, and Mileski. How may I help you?”

“I have a nine o’clock interview with Liam, C.J., and Vincent.”

“Your name?” she asks, and I suddenly sense a bit of an attitude coming from her.

“Bridgette Schaefer.”

“Have a seat,” she says.

I do so and text Alexa.
What’s up with the wicked witch in reception?

She doesn’t respond, instead she emerges from the back. “Bridgette. You can come on in.”

I get up and walk towards her and she tells Autumn, “Don’t bother calling the guys. I’ll take her back.”

As we walk I give her a side hug. “You look adorable,” she says.

“Thank you.” She leads me into a huge corner conference room. “Take a seat and I’ll grab everyone. Just be yourself, okay?”

I smile and nod my head, sitting down. While I wait, I take some of Troy’s advice and run through my mental notes. I begin to go over my resume, remembering which key points to hit on when Liam, C.J., and Vincent enter the room. I stand shaking all of their hands, well, all except for Vincent who gives me a hug.

As I sit across from the three men, I’m baffled by their appearance. All of them are gorgeous; they are absolutely to die for. No wonder their law firm does so well – I’m sure when they go up against someone in court all the opposing party can focus on is keeping their libido under control. Honestly, I don’t think it matters if it is a male or a female these three are up against because their looks are lethal.

C.J. starts first with the typical ‘tell us about your background, schooling, and previous experience.’ Just like Troy said he would. Then Liam leads in with a bit more of a difficult question about why they should hire me over other candidates.

As the interview gets going and the questions are thrown at me, I’m unstoppable. Mainly because of Troy; he really helped me get into the right mindset. They laugh at some of the funny stuff I say and all around they seem captivated by my words. Leaving, I feel like I did a great job. I know deep down, I gave it my all.

I call Troy on my drive home, but he doesn’t answer so I leave him a message. I decide to call David too. I need to see him and be honest with him. What Troy and I are doing is not innocent and it’s not okay.

“Hello,” David answers in a groggy tone.

“Hey. There you are. You never called me last night.”

“Oh yeah, sorry about that. I won my tournament and was on such a high I spaced it.”

“Uh, okay. Well, listen I need to see you. Do you have time tonight?”

“Probably, I’m still in Denver. Can I call you later?” he asks yawning. “I’m going to go back to sleep, I didn’t get to bed ‘til seven this morning.”

“Okay—” He hangs up before I can get in another word. I pull off the highway and head towards the condo. My phone rings, and it’s Cara. I can’t wait to talk to her. “Oh my God, Cara, you’re—”

“Where are you?” she questions.

“Driving home. Why? Is everything okay?”

“Can you come to the hospital?”

My heart races and I turn around to get back on the freeway. “Of course, is the baby okay?” my voice quavers.

“Yeah, we’re fine, it’s…it’s Troy. He was brought in from a fire. I don’t really know what’s going on. Abel’s a mess and the ER is slammed. I really need you.”

“Oh God, what happened? Is he okay?”

“I don’t have all the details, honey. Just get here, please.”

“I’m on my way.”

I hang up and try to blink back the tears. I need to pay attention to the road. However, it’s too late; they’re already streaming down my cheeks.
Lord, please let Troy be okay.
I can’t believe something has happened to him. Whatever it is, just don’t let it be serious; he’s so young. Speeding through traffic, I feel like a maniac and am thankful that there are no cops around to see me.

I park in front of the gigantic hospital and jog inside looking for Abel. He is nowhere in sight. I spot Cara behind the check-in desk and she points to the right. I head to the doors and when they open, she’s there to greet me. “Thank God you’re here,” she says, embracing me.

Hugging her back, I see Abel on the phone with his head hung low, leaning on the nurses’ station. “Cara, what happened?” Before she can speak, her name gets called over the intercom. “Talk to Abel, sweetie.” And she’s gone. I watch her run away from me and through the double doors.

Approaching Abel, I hesitantly rub his arm and he looks up at me with worry in his eyes. Switching the phone to his other ear, he wraps an arm around my shoulders and hugs me close to him. He scribbles down a phone number on a pad of paper and hangs up. “Are you okay?” I ask him.

Running his fingers through his hair, he says, “Fuck if I know.”

“What happened?”

“That fucker didn’t evacuate when I ordered everyone out. This is the second time in six months he has done this and each time he’s ended up in the hospital. I swear to God, he’s like a fucking child.”

“Calm down, Abel. I’m sure he had good reason. What happened to him? Is he okay?”

“I’m not sure. A stairway gave way and he was trapped inside. Thank God we were able to get a few guys in there and get him out. Had he been inaccessible, I don’t even want to think about it. If he’d listened when I ordered everyone out, he wouldn’t have been caught.”