Page 23 of Joey

Every one of us looks at the bulldozer.

He sighs. “Look, ladies, I know you all want the job. But we only need one girl. And we don’t have much time. So… forgive me for this, but… you, you, you… all of you against that wall.” He shakes his head. “This job is not for you. Thank you for coming, but he’s not going to see you.”

Chairs scrape as some girls get to their feet. Loud sighing. Some cursing. Then about a dozen women start heading towards the door.

The rest of us look back at the man in charge.

He looks us all over. “OK. Again, I’m super sorry, but you, and you, and you, and you three over there—and hell, everyone sitting down—sorry. This is not the job for you.”

More chairs scraping. More muttering and cursing. And another whole crowd of ladies head for the door. Including my ex-frenemy.

He’s already weeding out more. In fact, he just keeps going. Dismissing people, one after the other, until there’s just me and two other women left.

“You three. Come inside,” he says.

We look at each other. And I smile when I realize we are all dressed professionally.

Ha. Nailed it.

Bright Berry Beach family, here I come.

I suck in a deep satisfied breath and walk into the office to find two more men. The one at the desk, who is clearly in charge of the hiring, and another one sitting off to the side. Head propped up with one hand, scowling at us.

Hmm. This is a little weird. I mean, it’s independent sales. Don’t they usually take everyone who shows an interest? I’m glad I did all my research because apparently that’s not the case here at Bright Berry Beach.

“This is it?” the scowling one says. “Three?”

“Hey,” the bulldozer says, as he closes the door. “You said weed them out. These three are the only ones who didn’t come in looking like runway models.”

I frown, pretty sure that’s not a compliment.

“What agency are you from?” the boss says, pointing to the girl on my far right.

“Clair’s Talent,” she says in a demure, sweet voice.

“And you?” the boss asks the girl next to me.

“Uptown Agency,” she replies.

Then he points to me. “And you?”

“Um…” I smile. With teeth. Unsure what the fuck he’s talking about. But I’m kinda good at lying on the fly and I’m starting to think that I’m in the wrong place. This isn’t a job interview for Bright Berry Beach sales consultants. It’s something else. And if the number of interested applicants and the weeding-out process is any indication, it’s probably a much bigger, better opportunity. “I don’t work with an agency,” I say.

The eyebrows on all three men shoot up their foreheads. “Then how did you get here?” the bossy one asks.

“Right time, right place,” I say, my words exuding confidence. Because whatever this is, it’s a door.

And I need all the doors I can get.

“No, really,” the boss says. “How the fuck did you get in here?”

OK, Brooke. These men are an obstacle. That’s all. And you are spectacular at overcoming obstacles.

“I came for the job,” I say. “I have a résumé, if you’d like to see it.”

“But how did you hear about the job?” Bulldozer asks. “It was a very private invite.”

“A friend,” I say. “She was told to come today and couldn’t make it. So I came instead.”