Cassie
Too bad there wasn’t a box for desperate and broke. I scanned the screen for the last time. It was all there: name, age, address, occupation and employment status. Unemployed. That ten-letter word seemed to light up the box with a fluorescent hue. I scowled at the application. I never cared before, but it seemed to carry more weight flashing in front of me.
By hitting submit, I was actually going through with this. I scrolled to the top again even though I knew I hadn’t skipped a single box. I could do this. I needed to do this.
I was officially out of options.
I was broke. I was going to lose everything. My business bank account was going nowhere. My pantry cabinet contained two packs of Ramen Noodles and a half-empty jar of peanut butter. If that didn’t scream desperate, I didn’t know what did.
The pipes rattled behind me, and I sighed. Sometimes I was awakened at night when they creaked and hissed. I had nightmares that I’d wake up in a pool of water, flooded from the ceiling to the floor. And what then? How would I ever survive a financial crisis?
The truth was I couldn’t. That’s why this was crucial.
I had no choice but to lie.
It went against my instincts. It defied every vow I had made. It broke an oath I pledged.
I sank in my seat and pushed my cold coffee mug away from laptop. How had I let things end up here? I should have accepted defeat a months ago. But I wasn’t the kind of woman who could crawl home to her parents.
I didn’t have time for second thoughts any more. I needed to accept that this was as low as it got.
I moved the arrow back to the application and hit submit.
It was either a wave of defeat or guilt that hit me. I had just done the unthinkable. I waited for something remarkable to happen. A sign. An instant message. Anything. Maybe I was waiting to be saved from the sin I had just committed.
I stared at the screen, praying for a miracle.
“Please, please, please,” I whispered, knowing I was being completely and utterly ridiculous.
But then it happened. I clicked refresh for the tenth time and there was a message in my inbox.
“Holy shit.” I was stunned.
My fingers twitched as I tapped the email to open it.
If it was a prank, it was a seriously good one. There was an email from the HR director of LQT Development. I scanned the contents several times before letting myself believe this was real.
I had a job interview. An actual job interview with the director of one of the largest companies in the country. Suddenly, I didn’t care about the lie. I didn’t care about anything but landing that job.
There was only one problem. I had no idea what I was going to wear. I dug through my purse, searching for my wallet.
I had one credit card with a few hundred dollars I could spend. That was it. The last little bit of spending money I had, if I could call it that. If I was going to land a job I had to dress for the part. I decided to hit the consignment stores. My budget would only take me so far.
I had to believe this could change my life. Something had to.
1
Cassie
I stopped in front of LQT development firm and moved my hands over my skirt, trying to straighten a non-existent crease. I had a job interview as a legal assistant. Legal assistant. I couldn’t believe things had gotten this bad. Being an assistant wasn’t the plan. It had never been a plan. I didn’t work long hard hours for my law degree for this. I closed my eyes.
But things were bad. I’d applied for one job after another. I interviewed with top firms. I’d even tried small boutique firms. Nothing. The competition for attorneys was fiercer than I had excepted. So, I did the only thing I could—I started working down the chain, instead of up. God, I hoped today was my lucky day. I needed this position.
I looked at my skirt suit again and frowned. I was nervous about what I was wearing. I’d changed clothes five times before settling on a dark gray skirt suit, and even now I wasn’t quite sure if this was a good choice. I clutched the strap of my bag. Ok, Cassie, you can do this.
I had convinced myself that under-qualifying my skills on the ap
plication was only a tiny white lie. It wouldn’t hurt anyone. Actually, it would help them. I would be an asset they didn’t know they had. I could keep my law degree to myself until the job market opened up a little.
I passed through the front doors and went to the elevators, looking at my notes again for directions. The interview was on the fourth floor in the conference room. I took a deep breath and stepped inside the empty elevator. As the doors closed behind me, I examined myself in the elevator mirror.
I had a long, jet black hair that was now pulled in a ponytail, and I’d applied a bit of mascara, light foundation, and a bright pink lipstick that went well with my bright blue eyes. Usually, I liked applying eyeliners and eye pencils to emphasize my eyes, but I didn’t want to appear as if I was trying too much. I was a natural beauty with the curvy hips and sexy legs, which I was proud of.
But there were times when people couldn’t see beyond that. They didn’t see who I was. What I was capable of. I graduated the top of my law class. There was more to me than curves and pouty lips.
I took a lipstick out of my bag and applied it again. I needed this job. It was becoming urgent. No—it had already become urgent a long time ago. My bank account was at zero and the debt was mounting.