I follow Tony down the hall hoping that whatever clothes he's about to show me aren't gaudy. Because I know that whatever the man hands me, I'm going to be too much of a wimp to turn him down. Tony has to be around six foot four to six foot five, a hulking man who isn’t afraid to show his temper. Clearly, he must have a bad side, and it’s not the half of him I want to find myself on. Something tells me I need to remember that and my actions should revolve around keeping that thought paramount.
“Here.” He gestures to the room. “The unused clothes are in the second closet on your right.”
Smiling at him I enter the room, quickly realizing it's not a typical bedroom. It's the size of a college classroom. The bed itself could hold a small Kia.
Wasting no more time than I need to, I go over to that second closet and quickly sift through the clothes. They’re all fancy dinner outfits. Or at least that’s how they appear to my uncultured tastes. They’re definitely not something you’d wear on the regular.
It takes me about three minutes to land on something casual. Deep in the back, there’s a blouse with spaghetti straps. It's the only blouse that doesn’t look like I need Prada shoes underneath.
Holding it up for closer inspection I see it’s in fact a dress. I shake my head and decide why not. My yoga pants are damp anyway.
Taking the garment from the hanger and bringing it to the bed, I glance at the door to make sure it's closed. My nipples start to perk up at the thought of changing in some rogue’s mansion. I want to do it as fast as possible so I can just go home. Based on how the day has gone, I'm over the whole interview thing.
Sliding out of my clothes, now only in my bra and panties, I catch something in my peripheral vision on the nightstand. My eyes narrow on it and my body roots to the spot when I realize exactly what it is.
A pistol
Usually, being frightened doesn’t come easy to me. But seeing that gun, I scream. For whatever reason, I have it in my head that because I scream, it's going to set the gun off. Like an ass, I continue to scream until the door flies open, my body frozen in time as Tony stands there almost as wide as the door frame itself, scanning the room for the threat that set me off, ready to crush it under the heel of his shoe like a cockroach.
His eyes are elevators going up and down my nearly naked body. Of course, today had to be the day where I wore my see-through stuff. They're notcompletelysee-through but if you stare long enough, you'll see an area on my breast that's far redder and perkier than the rest.
“Good thing you made them match,” Tony states bluntly, not at all embarrassed to be checking me out. “Why the hell are you screaming?”
My cheeks are burning as I run to the dress on the end of the bed. Catching the hint, he turns to step back into the hallway, preparing to close the door behind him but before he does I answer, “I was startled by the gun. I know I'm pretty dramatic.”
He pauses all body movements, not leaving just quite yet. My goosebumps feel like tiny fuses ready to set off fireworks at what’s transpiring quicker than my mind can keep up.
"Oh,” is his only reply. His nonchalant attitude kind of bothers me. There's no way that I want to work in a house that has guns lying around. Not to mention his presence alone turns me into a nervous wreck. One because of all the mayhem, chaos, and violence it represents. And two, because somehow I’m strangely…interested in learning more about it. And that shocks me and scares me at the same time.
Quickly sliding into the dress he just stands there, his profile to me but he doesn’t try and sneak a peek. I know because my eyes are locked on him, studying the roundness of his shoulders, the thickness of his back, and how he’s generally built like a tree trunk, and currently just as immobile as one.
Do I have anything to do with that?
I don't know if I'm more surprised by the fact that he doesn’t give me some privacy or that I'm not creeped out by his reluctance to leave me to myself while I change.
I don't know what he's thinking. I can't even begin to guess. He doesn't give me much in terms of facial expressions, his mug like a stone wall. It reminds me of those National Geographic documentaries of a lion in the wild. The lion knows it’s the king of the jungle, it’s just a matter of when, not if, it’s going to remind everyone of that simple, untenable fact.
“I always match by the way,” I blurt out, trying not to seem like a stick in the mud even though I probably should have used my breath to tell him to ‘get out’ instead.
“You have the job. You’ve endured enough today.”
I swallow because I've finally found some courage, his words strangely giving it to me. The acceptance of a powerful man like a badge of honor that’s pinned to the dress he just gifted me. "I appreciate that Mr. D'Angelo–"
“Call me Tony.”
“I appreciate that, Tony, but on second thought, I may need to think about it. With all due respect…this might not be the job for me.”
The gun flashes across my mind. Why is it here and what would he do with it if someone angered him, especially seeing how accessible it is to him right about now?
I watch his jaw clench, but reading him I can tell that he's not mad at me. Instead, it feels like those guys with the champagne are the ones in big trouble, not me and my somewhat rejection of his offer.
"Whatever you deem fit," Tony says, finally leaving the room, the door shutting swiftly and firmly, but not exactly slamming. Tony’s clearly not the type of guy who’s going to be passive-aggressive, but I also can’t get a read on if that was him lightly slamming the door in annoyance.
Trying to decipher what he’s thinking right now, I feel this strong sense of tension that should make me feel uneasy, but instead, it does something else to me. And I can't quite put my finger on it.
Without warning the door swings open and there's that lion face once more. "More money. Do you want more fuckin' money?"
Okay, he's angry. He's really angry. And there's a gun right behind me. My throat goes dry like the Sahara.