Total pages in book: 187
Estimated words: 174623 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 873(@200wpm)___ 698(@250wpm)___ 582(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 174623 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 873(@200wpm)___ 698(@250wpm)___ 582(@300wpm)
It's very important to me to get hired at a women's shelter. It's one of the very few places that make me feel somewhat safe.
I take one more deep breath before stepping outside into the heat, grateful that the air conditioning works really well in the apartment. I've found, after moving so many times over the last twelve years, that it can be hit-or-miss.
I make my way to my car, body on full alert. My eyes scan everywhere around me, noting any changes from the last time I left my apartment. I check under and inside, making sure the backseat is empty, then unlock the car and climb inside, opting to take the straight path to the women's shelter for my interview.
The house is in a nice residential neighborhood, and I imagine the women who actually reside at this address feel incredibly safe. It's one of the nicest neighborhoods and houses I've seen in my experience working in women's shelters.
I park on the curb and immediately notice the man standing out front. It makes me pause, my eyes taking in everything about him. His muscular build and no-nonsense glare in my direction tell his story and purpose without him having to say a word.
He isn't holding a gun, but I have enough history with armed security to know he's ready for anything.
I hesitate to get out of the car, keeping my eyes on him, but maybe things are done differently in New Mexico. I can't miss out on this opportunity because I'm a little uneasy.
I open the driver's side door and step out of my vehicle, locking it before moving away. The simple honk of the security system does nothing to ease the anxiety growing inside of me.
The man's eyes follow me toward the front door, but before I can place a foot on the front step of the porch, his hand moves out, stopping me in my tracks.
"Name?" he grunts.
"Sa--" I say, nearly telling him the last name I used before catching myself. "Juliet Mercer."
His eyes narrow, as if he caught the slip. My hands tremble as I wait for him to reply.
"Your name isn't on the visitor's list," he says, his voice calm and even but full of authority.
"You didn't even check a list," I argue.
He lifts his hand, using his index finger to tap his forehead. "I have it memorized."
"I have an interview with Victoria Erwin," I explain as I reach into my purse to get my phone.
I notice the subtle shift in his body as if he thinks I'm going to pull out a weapon.
"I'm just getting my phone to show you the email," I say, my hand paused a few inches in my purse.
"Victoria, you have someone here for an interview," he says, and I know he has to have an earpiece or something to communicate with others.
As annoyed as I am, I'm doubly impressed by their security. It makes me want this job even more. Being able to take a breath at work, unworried that my safety is at risk, would be a dramatic change from places I've worked in the past.
"Do you want to see the email?" I ask.
When he shakes his head, I pull my empty hand from my purse.
Within a few seconds, the front door of the house opens.
A pretty woman, close to my age, steps out. She looks flustered, despite the smile on her face.
"Juliet?" she asks.
"Yes," I answer.
Her smile drops a little, which concerns me that I might have chosen the wrong attire for today, but she's wearing jeans and a nice blouse, so maybe my analysis of her reaction is wrong.
"I'm so sorry," she begins. "Your interview isn't here. It's at the Cerberus clubhouse."
"Excuse me?" I ask, my brow drawing together in confusion.
"As unprofessional as it makes me look, I gave the right time, but the wrong address. Cerberus conducts all staffing interviews for the shelter."
I look down at my watch. I was a little early, but I doubt I’ll have enough time to get to where she says I need to go and still be on time.
"Don't worry about being late," she says, reading my reaction. "I'll call them and explain my mistake."
"Okay," I tell her. "Where do I need to go?"
She gives me the address, giving me time to pull out my phone and type it into the map app I pull up.
"I'll let them know you're on the way," she says. "So sorry for the confusion."
"It happens," I assure her, giving her a quick smile. "Hope to see you again soon."
She nods before turning back around to go inside.
"Thank you," I tell the guard standing near the door.
He gives me a simple nod of his head.
I try my best not to feel annoyed as I walk back to my car. Things like this can easily happen, but it concerns me that this is my very first in-person interaction with the woman who could become my boss. It makes me wonder just how unorganized everything else at the shelter might be.