“A little slutty but not too much.” Liz laughed as Alice groaned.
“I just don’t want anyone getting the wrong idea. I’m not going to do any and everything to get this job.” Alice spoke earnestly.
“So, no casting couch for you?” Liz questioned.
“No.” Alice was adamant. There was no way she was going to sleep with some gross old man to get a foot in the door.
“Well good luck.” Liz hugged her before she walked out of the door. Alice walked down and got into her old Toyota Corolla. She sang along to ‘The Cure” as she drove to Beverly Hills for her interview. She didn’t know who the important writer was going to be but she hoped it was going to be someone who wanted to utilize her skills and would value her writing. She didn’t want to be used as the coffee and lunch girl as many assistants were. The only reason she had hope was because the temp agency had said the writer had asked specifically for someone who had an MFA. That had to mean he wanted a real writer.
Her breath caught as she parked and she felt the nerves in her stomach. This was it. This could be her big break. She gave the receptionist her name and waiting patiently in the lobby as she waited to be called up for her interview.
“Alice Nichols?” A young blond lady walked up to her and smiled.
“Yes.” Alice tried to smile and sound confident but the nerves were getting to her.
“Follow me. He’s ready for your interview.” Alice followed behind the lady wanting to ask exactly who ‘he’ was. She was escorted into a big conference room and was told to sit.
The lady left and she sat there alone looking around her. The nerves turned to annoyance about twenty minutes later as Alice still sat at the table waiting for someone to enter the room. She debated whether or not she should go back down to reception to let them know that no one had come to the room as yet. However, she had a feeling this was part of the interview. The writer likely wanted to see how patient she was. She sat back and sighed, stopping herself from reaching into her bag to grab her phone and text. If she was being watched she didn’t want anyone to think that she was addicted and dependent on her phone.
It was exactly one hour later that someone walked into the office behind her. She could feel rather than here them come in. She didn’t turn around, as she didn’t want them to see the annoyance on her face.
“Ms. Nichols, thank you for waiting. I got caught up on a call.” She looked down and saw the hand reached out to her. She shook it and then looked up and gasped. Standing in front of her was Oliver Park.
“You.” She spat out as his eyes twinkled at her.
“Yes, I am me and you are you.” He walked around the table. “Have a seat.”
She glowered at him. “What’s the point? I’m not getting this job am I?” She contemplated walking out of the door but there was a part of her that was excited to be so close to Oliver Park.
“Ms. Nichols, would you like to interview or not?” Oliver stood there staring at her from across the table. He licked his lips and sipped from the coffee cup that was in his hands. His lips and tongue mesmerized her.
“Why are you looking for a writing assistant? You’re not a writer.” Alice spoke softly, still standing up.
“Have a seat Ms. Nichols, if you want to know more.” He sat down and waited for her. She sat down against her will.
“Did you plan this?” She looked at him with eyes narrowed.
“Plan what Ms. Nichols?”
“Set this up so you could make a fool of me like I did you last weekend.”
He laughed, loud and boisterously. “Do you think you made a fool of me Ms. Nichols?”
She paused. “Not really.” She spoke honestly. She didn’t think that anyone had paid any attention to her words that night except for him, and he hadn’t looked as if he had cared really.
“Good. I’m glad you have some sense.” He looked down at the table and studied her resume.
“I had no idea who you were then Ms. Nichols and this position is very very real. You may know me as an actor but I am in the process of writing my first movie. I want it to be a success.”
“I see.” She looked at him in doubt.
“You don’t and that’s not important. It won’t be your job to see. It will be your job to write.”
“Ok.” All of a sudden she felt excited. She would be able to write. She had been waiting for this opportunity for a long time.
“So Alice tell me why you want this job.” Oliver sat back in his seat and stared at her intently. Alice knew that she wanted this job badly. No matter that she had had an awkward encounter with Oliver just the previous weekend.
“I’ve always wanted to be a screen writer. I wrote the play that we performed in my high school drama class and I’ve written short scripts for off-off Broadway plays in New York.”
“Do you only write plays for the stage?” Oliver questioned seriously, she could see him jotting down notes. His hands were strong and masculine. She shivered thinking about all the dreams she had had of him with his hands all over her.
“No,” she paused. “I’ve written scripts for commercials, TV shows, movies.” She waited for him to talk. She could barely believe she was in an office with Oliver Park.
“Do you have a portfolio? Any samples for me to see?”
Shit! Alice paled. She knew she had forgotten something. “No. Not on me.” She swallowed hard.
“I see.” He stared at he then thoughtfully. “I’m surprised.”
“Surprised?” She asked questioning.
“Yes. I’m surprised you forgot your portfolio when you are attending a very important interview. And I’m surprised you are dressed like a slut for a professional job interview.
She gasped in shock.
“Don’t bother shouting at me this time Ms. Nichols. There is no one here to impress with your bravery. And I certainly am not in the mood.”
“I’m not a slut.” Alice spoke, though not very confidently as she looked down at her legs and saw that her skirt had ridden halfway up her thighs.
“No. Of course you aren’t.” Oliver drawled at her. “Ms. Nichols, I need to know that you can feel the emotions that you write. That your writing is sincere and honest. That’s the type of writing that connects with audiences.”
“I am a good writer Mr. Park.” Alice spoke earnestly.
“But I have no way to validate that Ms. Nichols. You showed up without any samples.”