“Eriksen Architectural Design,” said Andrew, studying the site on my phone. “Hey! They designed that crazy building on Driggs Avenue, and that new skyscraper on Wall Street.” He scrolled a little more. “And the Anand Valley Bridge in Mumbai.” He looked back up at me in puzzlement. “I thought you asked for a jewelry placement.”
I took back my phone and stuck it in my recently purchased leather briefcase. “I did ask for a jewelry placement. I didn’t get it.”
“Why would they match a small-metals designer with a bridge-building firm?”
“I don’t know. Because they’re Norton and they think it’s cool and artistic to be disproportional.” I shrugged. “I don’t care. I’m just ready to finish the program. I like Norton, but I’m ready to get on with my career.”
“I doubt Eriksen and friends will have a lot of connections in the jewelry world.”
I’d pointed that out to my academic advisor, but my complaints had fallen on deaf ears. “I guess design is design, whether you’re designing bridges or earrings. I don’t know. They didn’t offer me a second choice.”
“I love that suit,” said Andrew, gazing jealously at my outfit. “You look amazing. You’re gonna impress them for sure.”
I felt slightly guilty about using sex appeal on the first day of my internship, in some bid to impress my new boss. I’d chosen to wear one of the designer numbers I wore when I was escorting. Exquisitely tailored and wonderfully expensive, the Burberry suit looked right at home in the lobby of a luxury hotel, and, hopefully, in the conference rooms of Eriksen Architectural Design.
We finished our coffee and stood to give each other hugs. “Enjoy the museum,” I said, squeezing him tight. “And tell them to make some room on a wall somewhere. Your work’s going to hang there one day.”
“I love you, babes. Knock ’em dead at Eriksen. Maybe they’ll let you build a bridge or two before your time’s up.”
We shrugged into our coats and headed out into the January cold. The office wasn’t far up Park Avenue, so I walked, dispelling nervous energy and swinging my briefcase at my side like I was as confident as all the bustling New Yorkers around me.
I arrived at the office building a few minutes early and gazed up at the structure of metal and glass. I went through revolving doors to the lobby and was directed to the eleventh floor. That was when my butterflies started. I kept my head down on the elevator, murmuring “Eleven, please” to a wall of pinstriped suits.
Get your shit together, Chere. This is what you wanted, what you’ve been working for all this time. I wasn’t an escort anymore, and the chapter with Price was closed. I had nothing on my plate but building a kickass career, and I intended to make the most of it. On the eleventh floor, I headed for the frosted double doors emblazoned with an etched bridge and the initials “EAD” in a stylized script. A perky receptionist greeted me the moment I slipped inside.
“Welcome to Eriksen Architectural Design. May I help you?”
“I’m the new intern from Norton. I start today.”
“Of course. Mr. Eriksen is expecting you. He’s meeting with the staff in the conference room this morning. If you’ll follow me?”
She led me down a carpeted hallway, past more office doors. She pushed one open, revealing a spacious room with a large table, and a meeting in progress.
“Ms. Rouzier has arrived,” she announced.
“Ah, there she is.”
My gaze shot to the man who’d spoken. Price stood from his place at the head of the table and strode to me with a hand outstretched in greeting.
You can’t. My God. What the fuck?
“Welcome to Eriksen Architectural Design,” he said, squeezing my fingers with a firm grip. “I’m P.T. Eriksen, and this is the rest of the team.” He introduced me to each of the six people in turn, professional men and women of varying ages. They smiled and said hello, forcing me to compose my scattered emotions. Price was P.T. Eriksen of Eriksen Architectural Design? At last the ridiculous internship placement made sense. I felt manipulated, humiliated, and furious that I had to stand like an idiot in front of his smiling staff.
He was dressed in his armor: a dark suit and tie, and a pair of silver cufflinks. As he walked back to the head of the table, I realized they were my design, a pair I’d submitted to the Norton student shop a few months earlier. He turned to me with a taunt of a smile.
“Won’t you join us, Ms. Rouzier? We’ll be wrapping up our meeting in a moment, and then you and I can speak in more detail about your internship.”
Oh, I couldn’t wait to speak about my internship. I sat at the end of his high-end conference table and stared at the polished tabletop. I’d bought a briefcase for this ridiculousness. I’d dressed up for this. This was my senior internship, my life, my career, not some fucking game.