"You with the sad eyes. Don't be discouraged. Oh I realize, it's hard to take courage in a world full of people, you can lose sight of it all. And the darkness inside you can make you feel so small."
Chapter Theme Song: True Colors by Cyndi Lauper.
•♡♡.
Sanoh
Now, if you could see me now, you'd be like: Sanoh, why are you doing? See, I never wear stockings. Not because I'm a Tomboy or anything. I'm not a Tomboy. I just don't like skirts and dresses and panties (sometimes). No, I never leave my house without any panties (you naughty). I like my boxers. They feel like shorts, and it's easier to stay in them when I get home from work. Because I'm usually really knackered.
But now, going to this interview, I have to wear a skirt. It's not that bad, it's just, my legs are a bit slim and I think I look weird.
I thank God for our town's community church. It's how I own this white top and black skirt. Natzy is the one who requested that I wear stockings, but I've hated stockings since the moment I was born. When I was a kid, I used to sink my nails in them and rip them apart, and my mom eventually gave up one day and allowed me not to wear them anymore. I sigh at the memory, looking at myself in the mirror. My mom would have loved to see me now. Look, mom, I'm wearing stockings...
And they're not so bad...
"Ow..." I mewl, reaching down and itching the thin fabric at the calf. I take that back.
"Sanoh! You look like a girl!" Issy gasps with bulgy round eyes from our doorway.
Yuki comes to look over her shoulders, narrowing his eyes. "Are you wearing stockings, Sanoh?"
I roll my eyes and fully face them, opening my arms wide. "How do I look?"
Yuki says, "Like an alien."
"Like a princess! A very, very pretty princess!" Issy says, "I'm going for my camera, don't move!" And she scurries away, her ponytail swaying behind her, while my brother enters the room suspiciously.
"Don't you have work?"
I sigh. This nosey mushroom. "Yes. But I took a day off." I can't tell them. I can't tell them I've lost my job; they'd be so worried. "I am accompanying Natz somewhere; she asked me to come along so I asked my boss for the day." I tilt my chin.
"Oh." He shoves his hands in the pockets of his joggers.
"Mm. How do I look?" I fix the neck of the sheer blouse that's tucked into my skirt.
"You really want me to answer that?"
I shrug. "Heck, yeah."
He bends his lips, stepping back to give me a once over. "You look strange in anything that's not jeans or boxers-are you wearing a hairclip?" He squints his eyes.
I fingle Issy's silver clip. "Yes. What? Do I look stupid?"
"You look like Angelica Pickles that follows Tommy around."
"Hey!" I slap him on his head, and he groans.
"Ow, bro..."
"Don't push it." I smile. "Answer the question. Good or not so good?"
He rubs his head. "I guess not so good-I mean good." He grins cheekily.
I squint my eyes at him. "Exactly. I look amazing! That's a good thing." I shoot him two gun-fingers as I step back.
"Is it?" He makes a face. "It's scary. Very, very scary..." And he shivers dramatically as he walks toward the door, looking back in feign fright.
I shake my head with a grin before reaching for my old make-up powder. I dab some on my face, then cough. "Shit. How long has this been there for?"
"Sanoh, pose for the camera!" Issy squeals.
And I spin around and cross my eyes, sticking my tongue out of my head.
She giggles and snaps the shutter button of her little white camera. The image zoops through the receiver, and she takes it out. "I'm cherishing this forever!" She hugs it to her chest, and I grimace.
Oh, don't. I look ridiculous in these stockings...
Ah, they're itching again.
••
So, there is something that you should know about me. I'm confident. Always confident. Martial Arts teaches you to always keep your composure. (Please don't judge me by the fact that I fractured Hercules' wrist, I swear it was a first!)
When I say confident, I don't necessarily mean in appearance because I seldom care about whatever I wear and whatnot. I mean in personality. I don't often doubt myself, you see. And I was confident earlier. Believe me, I was. But being here, sitting among all these capable men and women, your girl is not feeling so confident anymore. And I am hella thirsty. Is that water dispenser over there even freaking working?
So, let's visualize. The Cryptic Auditorium is vast in width, alarmingly spacious with black plastic chairs lining the burgundy carpeted floors. Huge crystal chandeliers tower from the glass wool ceiling. Renovating this theatre must have cost this company a whole lot.
At the sides, red silk curtains extensively cover the adjacent dark walls, and the space is cramped with the cold air conditions and the prominent scent of new leather and expensive wool.
The loan sharks have nothing on these muscular men standing at the four corners of the theatre. I feel like a cast member of Men In Black, or better yet, The Matrix. There are about four of these men with white ear pieces in their ears, dressed in crisp dark tuxedo, and guns peeking up from their leather belts. I bend my lips, eyeing one of the bulky men as I huddle in line to take a seat at the front of the room. He glares down at me from under his thick shades. Why does this CEO need security when he has these big-ass, Jurrasic-park-looking Gorillas? The more the merrier, they say.
At the front of the room is an expansive projector, displaying clips and pictures of The Cryptic Hotels and occasionally popping up images of the CEO, Malik Hilton. I don't care much for pretty men, they take too many snap-chats with the dog-filter and all that stuff, but from the images presented, Mr. Hilton has some serious good-looks on his side. Good for him. He appears younger, but has a mature aura in the way he presents himself. Clips of him shaking hands with the Mayor and Prime Minister, pops up onto the screen. He is sporting his beard in a few of the photos, and in others, he's smooth-faced. He's stoic in all of them. No expression. Hey, wait...he kind of looks like Theo James...at the correct angle.
I like Theo James, which is why I watched The Divergent Series with Yuki more than once. I hate watching movies with the mushroom-head so that says a lot. He thinks I want to spend quality time with him, when in truth, I actually want to see Four without his shirt. Who's gonna tell him?
"He's so hot, isn't he?" Asks a chick on my right. She's referring to Mr. CEO Deadpan.
"Mm..." I tilt my head pensively, squinting my eyes at the bright screen. "Well..he's alright." I conclude with a shrug. Theo is hot. This CEO is a carbon copy of him. I like the real deal.
She blinks and looks away from me as though implying I'm weird.
Am I? Maybe...
So hear what, I kind of got the dress code all mixed up. Apparently, this isn't an interview but a whole funeral. We are, presumably, celebrating the almost-death of Malish Hilto–Malik, not Malish, Hilton.
The dress code is black. Full black. That's what the front desk woman, who seemed as though she'd jumped right from a magazine, told me on my way inside.
So, I've fucked up a tad already.
Talks throng around me, hushed whispers and gossips, and I turn my face in the direction as a redhead speaks:
"I heard this drive is because he got attacked some weeks ago. I heard it was an attempted assassination."
Another girl with long black hair dramatically presses her manicured fingers to her chest. "Who would dare to attack my baby Malik?"
I grimace. Are they here for an interview or to snag a date with this Malish guy?
Malik, his name is Malik, Sanoh! Don't you dare go inside there and call him Malish.
I groan, holding my forehead. I'm screwing this up already.
A small chuckle comes from next to me, and I steer my head in the direction. I peruse the guy sitting there from under my lashes.
Woah. He's...good-looking.
"Don't look so stressed. It's not that serious, you know." The guy says in a boyish voice.
His dark hair is cut low, his bright blue eyes squinted in amusement.
I sit upright, suddenly alert. "I-I am not stressed."
Woah. Are you stuttering, Sanoh?
"Sure? There are creases in your forehead." He crosses his lean arms, watching me with a faint smirk on his face.
My mouth falls open as I reach up and press a hand to my forehead. "Are there?"
He stares at me for a while, and then he starts to chuckle again, ducking his head.
I frown. "Are you mocking me?"
"Nope. Definitely not." He rubs his lips with a grin, and I droop my eyes.
"I'm not convinced. You're smiling."
His smile widens. "Yeah, because you're cooler than most people here."
I purse my lips and look away. Gosh, he's hot...
"I'm Jessie. What's your name?"
"Why?" I look back at him.
"We have some waiting to do, so we might as well get acquainted."
I smile a bit and pull my skirt over my knees. My God, I need to have more friends outside of Natzy. My heart is racing!
I notice that his body is unreasonably toned, though he's more on the lean side of the male spectrum, and his hair has side-fades, too. He's wearing full black. Well, at least he got the memo. Unlike yours truly.
"What's up with the white?" He jerks his head toward me.
"Oh, this?" I look down at my top. "I got the code all mixed up. Plus, I don't own a black formal top, so." I shrug.
He nods his head. "Yeah. I got a black T-shirt under this, though, if you'd like."
"Nope." I look away.
"Were you in the military?" He then asks me, and I shake my head and peer back at him.
"No, I, uh...I have a degree. Were you in the military?"
He nods. "I served for two years. You look young; twenty, right?" He shifts on his chair so he can prop his elbow on the rim of it. An unsmiling guy sits in the middle of us. He looks miserable like a dog took a piss in his cereal this morning. The handsome military guy doesn't care much for the 'boulder' between us as he waits for me to respond.
"Uh, yeah, I'm twenty. And you?" Got my bets on twenty-one.
"Twenty-two."
Close.
"Oh. Nice."
He chuckles. "Nice." He jerks his head behind me. "Seems he's here."
"Who?"
"Our fates. The great Malik Hilton." He quips.
I shift around in my seat to see the doors to the auditorium slowly plunging open for the entrance of the day's destiny. The air changes in a beat. I don't like pretty men. I really, really don't like pretty men. But I respect giving credits where it's due. The interviewees are fixing themselves, wanting to look presentable for the Billionaire. Gosh, calm down, people. Do they not watch The Divergent Series?
Two men, dressed in black with white earpieces coiled around the shell of their ear, step into the room first, positioning themselves on either side of the entrance as one of the men holds the transparent doors open for the 'King' of Cryptic Hotels.
Malik Hilton steps into the quiet theatre, and the girls behind me start whisper-squealing at his palpable presence.
"That's him at the front; Malik. Oh my God, he looks even more handsome in person..."
I inquisitively peer up at the well-built man in the middle of the formal group. He is cladded in a steamed dark blue tuxedo that fits his body as though it was specially made only for him. Bulky arms prod against his fabric-covered biceps. His dark hair is shiny and perfectly coiffed on his head, almost sleeked back in a laid-back style. His nose is as straight as an arrow, and his eyes, dark and void, is an amberish-grey that I have never seen before. I'll give him the credit, but I still prefer Theo James.
Though the CEO isn't close to me yet, it's not hard to see that his gaze is steely and cold, a certain darkness emitting from his appearance. What's up with his face?
I shiver and lean over to Jessie. "Why does he look like that?"
Military-guy grins and shrugs. "A rich life does that to you."
Really? It could, but I feel like I'd be so happy if I had money...
I'd widen our home Sparring Gym and take over Chucky Chicken.
Yeah, fuck you, Chuck. I'd fire you first.
Malik Hilton doesn't look like someone 'friendly' to work with at all. He doesn't have a nice face. Well, he does have a nice face if you want me to be honest. He's blatantly handsome, the type of man you'd see in magazines, but he looks like a serial killer. The muscular man on his right; closest to him, is just as scary-looking as Mr. Hilton. His Romanian chest seems as though it'd burst right from his tailored blazer as he plods in line like a robot. His jaw is clenched easily, his impassive face fixed straight ahead as though no one sitting in this room is worth looking at.
They exude so much dominion, that I feel looking them in the eyes is committing treason!
Look away, Sanoh, or you shall be beheaded!
They walk past my row, a swirl of masculine fragrances meeting my nose. Citrus and wood and money. I look down at their expensive shoes and see my reflection in the shiny black footwears.
"Oh my God, he smells so good." Someone pathetically whispers behind me.
One of the men opens the door to a white room, and the CEO enters, followed by his short line of stiff-looking men.
The door closes and more whispers fill the room.
"Wow. Some show..." I mutter to myself.
Jessie hears and smirks. "Uh-huh."
"He doesn't look like someone who's nice." I share.
He laughs. "That's because he's not." He turns around in his seat and keeps quiet thereafter. The miserable boy in the middle of us finally leans back with a crick of his shoulder, perhaps glad we are through disrupting his peace.
I blow my cheeks out. That man even gives me shivers.
♡
Soon, a man in a fitted tuxedo comes out of the room with a brown file in his hand. "It's now 12 pm on the dot. I will call the batch for this session beginning now." His deep voice echoes throughout the auditorium, a pitch that sounds as though he's been in the military for a decade. "Batch 589: Celeste Crysti, John Rowe, Jesse Martin, and Sanoh Marshall."
Sanoh! That's me.
I stand up. Be calm, San, be calm...
The chick with the pink manicured nails, conjures up as well, along with this other guy and the one I'd been talking with earlier—Jesse. When he sees me getting up, he gives me a smile but doesn't comment as we make our way to the front of the room. That's good because if I speak, I think I'll shite the girl-panties I'm wearing.
"Skirt down." The man says to Celeste. "Below the knees."
She purses her lips in embarrassment as she struggles to tug the fabric down her knees. I subconsciously look at my granny skirt.
"I am saving you from being yelled at." He gestures a hand to the room. "Straight line. Occupy the seat in front of the small white door."
We form a line and huddle to where the man has so roughly instructed we station ourselves. It turns out it wasn't/isn't just a room that I'd seen Malik enter before us, but a small white-painted hallway that leads to another room. I sit on one of the cold plastic chairs, next to my recent acquaintance, Jesse, and my heart is gonna fly through my mouth. Mind you, I am not usually this nervous. I am not a wimp. Never have been, never will be.
I rub my chest. I think I'm gonna puke up the bacon and cheese I had this morning.
"It's going to be alright. Just don't show fear." Jesse says softly with his face ahead, and I smile.
"I am not usually this nervous."
"I can guess that. The fact that you have a degree in martial arts means you kick ass..."
I chuckle and purse my lips as the door pushes open. Another guy stands there, seeming the youngest of all the men I've seen so far in tailored suits. He touches his earpiece and nods. "No. Not yet."
Between the gap of his arm, I catch a glimpse of the CEO, Malik, sitting in one of the horizontal chairs and flipping through a brown file. He's facing exactly my seat, and his brows are scrunched. I cringe at his miserable countenance and focus somewhere else.
"Jesse?" The young guy calls out, stepping closer and blocking the inside view. "Who's Jesse Martin?"
As my new chat-buddy lifts his hand, a deep voice booms from inside of the interview room.
"Why isn't the first person coming in, Sila?!"
"He's on his way, sir." The guy answers, as Jesse gives me a small smile and follows after the young suit-guy. The CEO grumbles something underneath his breath as the door to the room clamps shut.
"He's a bit terrifying, don't you think?" Celeste worries next to me, and I nod.
Finally, someone wants to talk about his personality and not his model-like appearance and physique.
"Very. I mean, I am not afraid of anyone, but this man clearly woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning." I offer back.
"Getting shot and not knowing your attacker can do that to you." The boy sitting between us, adds, cricking his neck. It's the same miserable boulder from earlier. Boulder's just a name for fun, he's not exactly big in appearance, but he's a little thick. I glance at his tag: Michael. "Let's just stop talking before they catch us." He rolls his eyes.
Nah, who was talking to him?
Celeste and I share a look, and I know she's thinking the same thing: that this guy right here, with his cocky face and upright attitude, is the type of kid that reminds teachers about homework.
It feels like an hour when the door opens and Jesse comes out. I search his face for any sign of defeat but he doesn't display any form of emotion; he's unreadable. And he is the kind of kid that says: I am going to fail, but passes the test anyway. I decide to step out of my comfort zone and ask:
"How was it?"
"I passed the first stage. They'll contact me for the training."
"Awesome!" I smile, and Celeste grins and jerks him a thumbs up.
"Yeah." He shrugs almost carelessly. "I'll see you guys around. Good luck." And he gives me a reserved smile as he walks out.
Woah. He sure is laid back.
The door in front of us is left open and the young guy comes back with a sheet of paper in his hand. "Celeste. Celeste—"
"Here." She gets up quickly, and his eyes drop to her shirt. "Fix your blouse." He averts his gaze expressionlessly. "No cleavage."
"Sorry." She pulls her shirt up and enters the room. He shuts the door behind them.
I sit there for what feels like more than an hour this time. The boy next to me isn't friendly and is kind of annoying with the way he keeps cricking his neck and fingers.
Soon, the door opens again, and Celeste comes back out. A palm is clutched over her face and she's crying.
My mouth falls open. "Hey..."
But she's already gone, escaping through the exit transparent door as it slams shut behind her.
The boy next to me scoffs and lifts his eyebrows.
Why was she crying?
"Sanoh!" The door opens again, impatiently this time. "Sanoh Marshall!"
"Coming!" I stand up quickly and walk into the room that's cramped with air conditioning. Three men, including the CEO and the equally stoic man I'd seen close to him earlier, occupy the seat in front of me.
Malik is not looking up just yet. His thighs are spread, his pen between his fingers. I didn't notice before but he has a gauze wrapped around his knuckle and one taped at the side of his neck. Must be from the attack.
I stand restlessly in the center while he reaches for a file. He skips through and lands on a page.
"Begin."
I swallow. "My name is Sanoh Mar—"
His head shoots up at the sound of my voice and his brows furrow. "Seriously? Another woman? Who sent out the damn requirements?!" His eyes scour the room. "A lot of women are turning up and this is for the Core. The Core. Is there something wrong with you men?"
The man on his right rubs his eyes, and the stoic gentleman on the left of him, doesn't display any form of emotion as he stares down at his file.
"Next!" Malik says, closing my file and reaching for someone else's.
I stand there in shock. Wait...that-that's it? I tilt my head in confusion. "What?"
"Next!" He repeats without looking up. "No females are allowed."
My mouth falls open. "Woah." Air passes through my lips and blows my bangs up. "Are you serious? I've waited three hours for this. Three hours." I gesture with my hand.
He doesn't say anything, he doesn't even look at me. None of the men do, except the youngest of the batch. His face doesn't show an ounce of pity for me, though.
What a waste of my time!
"Have a nice day." I shake my head and turn away.
"Next!" I hear the CEO's voice behind me. "And Sila, go tell all the women in the auditorium to leave! This is for the Core!
"Yes, sir."
My eyes meet Michael's on my way out, and a smile tugs at his lips as he stands up, perhaps hearing my defeat. But I don't cry like Celeste, I just walk out with my head held high.
Fuck him, fuck The Cryptic Hotels, fuck those loan sharks, and fuck Chucky Chicken.
♡♡
What do you think is gonna happen next? ;)
Also, Malik is such a d*ck, isn't he? Lol