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Delilah had been that super annoying, pigtail-wagging, braces-wearing little sister who always wanted to hang around her brother. What made it worse was that their mom insisted we take Delilah with us, every time. As a result, we often pulled pranks on Delilah, and what made it even funnier was how easily she fell for them.
After Dean and I got into college, I only really saw her at Dean’s birthday or Christmas when I’d go with Dean to visit his parents. The last time I saw her was through a blurry picture that Dean showed me of her college graduation, but Dean kept me updated on how she was doing when we hung out over the years.
Before I knew what I was doing, my fingers clicked away on my keyboard, pulling up her social media profiles. She didn’t post many pictures unrelated to her event-planning business, which she started about three months ago. If she did, it was either selfies with Dean or alone. She shared the books she readand which dishes she loved in a few restaurant reviews. Her timeline wasn’t exciting; no dating history, no clubbing with friends, and no dumb pics or videos for likes. Her life was totally boring, making her the perfect candidate. With everything going on, I didn’t need any unnecessary drama. And the fact that I knew her would make her working for me so much easier.
I picked up my desk phone and dialed Caite. And even though it was eleven p.m. on a Saturday, she picked up on the second ring.
“Hello, Mr. Quantum. How can I be of assistance?”
“Set up an interview with Delilah Malone at the new club tomorrow. Time: ten a.m. Inform her that an interested client requires her services. Refrain from mentioning my name.”
“Will there be anything else, sir?”
“That will be all for now.”
I hung up and leaned back in my chair, the picture of Delilah still on my computer screen. Her brown hair fell in waves around her face and a thin line of freckles scattered across her nose. The twinkle in her blue-grey eyes and something about her smile, which was now braces-free, formed a knot in my chest I couldn’t explain.
I pushed thoughts of her aside, locked my computer and exited my office. Tonight I’d be on guard to protect what I had built. If anything else played out tonight, not only would I be ready, but the culprits would regret the day they were born.
Chapter 2 - Delilah
At six a.m. I received a call back for an event planning interview at ten a.m. Even though it was a last-minute interview, and on a Sunday, I couldn’t help but feel excited and relieved. Over the past three months, I’d tirelessly applied to so many jobs I could barely remember the names of the companies I sent my resumes to. So far, I’ve received only four callbacks and worked on just two events.
The lady, who introduced herself as Caite, was apologetic about the early call. After providing the directions to the building, she hung up. She didn’t give the name of the person who’d be interviewing me, which I found weird, but I brushed it off; her brain might still be just as foggy as mine at this hour.
I crawled out of bed and began to get ready for the interview. After having a much-needed cup of coffee to calm my nerves and a hot shower, I chose a steel-gray tailored blouse with a slight shimmer, pairing it with sleek black pants. The silver necklace Dean gifted me for my twenty-first birthday adorned my neck, paired with matching earrings and a pair of black pumps. I pulled my hair into a low bun and styled a few loose curls at the front. After applying subtle makeup, I was geared up and ready to bag the interview. First impressions lasted, and God knows I needed to make this one count.
After giving myself one last satisfied look in the mirror, I grabbed the keys to my beat-up Honda Civic, my handbag and my portfolio before heading out the door at eight forty-five. It would take me at least an hour to get to the interview, but what I didn’t account for was an accident occurring on my route and the traffic that brought my car to a complete stop.
Thirty minutes later, my car still hadn’t moved an inch. I removed a candy bar from my handbag and nibbled on it. Something I had always done when I was a kid and anxious. Food always made everything seem better.
Yup, everything except those fifteen inches that refuse to remove themselves from your waistline.
Money had been tight since I accumulated Dean’s debts after he was admitted to rehab. I had missed the last three payments and needed every job I could get.
When the traffic finally started to move, I had eaten three candy bars, was thirty minutes away and the time was already nine forty-five.
“It’s not your fault, Delilah. Just explain there was an accident, and they’ll understand,” I murmured, trying to soothe myself.
Thirty-five minutes later, I pulled into the parking lot. I hated being late. I inhaled deeply, grabbed my belongings from the passenger seat and stepped out of the car. I clicked the key fob to lock it as I walked toward the building, before slipping it into my handbag. There were a few cars scattered across the parking lot, including a black Porsche and a work van. The three-story building was painted indigo with white trimmings. Close to the entrance, workmen were dismantling scaffolding.
“Good morning,” I greeted politely as I approached the men. Not a single man returned the greeting. They just continued with their chatter among themselves.
It was fine, I told myself as the automatic door slid open and I stepped inside the air-conditioned building. Inside was a hallway leading to the washroom area, a flight of stairs and an elevator. I opted to use the stairs since I hated elevators.
As I climbed the stairs, I couldn’t help but think about how girls like me just faded into the background. Yeah, I was a five-foot-seven thickie, my breasts being my best asset, but I hated the pouch around my tummy. I tried a few diets but never stuck with any of them long enough to see results.
I had been chunky ever since I could remember, and high school? The worst period of my life. I wore my insecurities on my sleeve, and the kids used that to their advantage. With every fat joke, my self-esteem took a fatal blow.
But I wasn’tthatteen anymore.
After graduation, I made a life-changing decision. There was no way I was going to allow what happened in high school to repeat itself. I put on a mask, hid my insecurities, wore a bright smile, had snarky comments ready when needed, and kept the bullies at bay.
I shoved my memories aside as I reached the top of the staircase and walked through the glass doors, my eyes scanning the open space. The walls were painted midnight blue with silver accents. To the side, a flight of stairs led to a balcony area with black-leathered booths and tables. To the right stood an impressive bar. Its counter was crafted from oak, matching its back wall. The countertop was a polished black granite with silver accents running along the edges. The bar stools that lined the counter were upholstered in fine brown leather, and I could still faintly smell its faint newness from where I stood. Whoever owned this space spared no expense in creating it.
I had been so engrossed in checking out the space that I didn’t notice the six-foot-one, lean yet muscular man stepping out of the door marked “Management Only” on the farthest side of the room. His green eyes were narrowed, his tone sharp as he spoke.
“Ms. Malone. You’re twenty minutes late.”