"Don't get too close it's dark inside, it's where my demons hide"
----- Demons - Imagine Dragons -----
"Miss Reid." The interviewer who had actually neglected to introduce herself skimmed over my resume reluctantly. This was not the kind of interview one could easily prepare for.
There were no "where do you see yourself in five years" or "so what attracts you to our company."
I fought the nervous urge to play with my hair or adjust my skirt and forced a smile instead. "Please, call me Carter."
"Carter." She repeated still looking down at my resume. "You're quite qualified."
Over qualified. That was the problem. I had gone to Yale, I had graduated top of my class, valedictorian and had been a personal assistant to the dean himself the entire four years, my last semester I juggled school, being his assistant, and interning at a large agency which I had been hired on to immediately after graduation. Everything was fabulous, my life was fabulous.
Until mom got sick. I had taken only two months from work, she deteriorated so fast it was over before it really even started. When she passed and it became time to find a job again well. That wasn't working so well.
I was over qualified, had worked with higher classed clients than what many other company was dealing with. They felt I wouldn't stay, the pay wouldn't suite me, over qualified.
"I've been a personal assistant before and I've worked with high classed clients. I'm completely comfortable around someone of his stature."
She glanced to my resume again, down the table to my job, and then back to me. "Look, Miss. Reid, you seem...nice, really nice but I just don't think-"
"I can do this." I said quickly.
"It's a lot of traveling." She countered quickly.
This time I glanced to my job. The fabulously famous singer and song writer seated at the head of the table drinking his scotch like we weren't even present. Leaning back on his chair, feet on the table, a pen force between his nose and a pouted lip and staring blankly at a notebook on his lap. His eyes were deep and smoldering as he glared at the empty notebook. His dark and tangled locks of hair could desperately use a comb through and perhaps even a bit of shampoo. Looking at him was terrifying. Every scowl he shot, ever tear in his clothing, everything screamed train wreck.
"I've always wanted to travel." I said and turned back to her. "I've been on planes before, I have no fear of heights, I don't get carsick. I can do this."
"Alright. I'm going to be frank with you." She said finally. "Nolan is, uh, difficult."
I glanced to him again. He was writing now still not looking up. It seemed odd to be talking about him as though he wasn't even here. Then again, was he all here? Who knew what sort of things this guy took before this interview.
"Most of the people we've had in here were, well, let's say pretty hardcore. We've tried some of his biggest fans even, thinking they'd be more excited and prepared to deal with his...shenanigans, I just think you're too nice and over-"
"I'm hardcore." I grimaced after I said it knowing exactly how silly I sounded. "Listen. I'm not his biggest fan, and maybe I'm not the biggest badass out there, but I am someone who severely needs a job and I'm a hard worker. You have my resume right in front of you. I don't quit anything. I can do this. I mean maybe it'll be a good thing."
"Pick a number." Nolan said suddenly. I had only heard his voice when singing, I had never heard him actually just talking. His voice was deeper than I had expected and his accent immediately annoyed me.
Admittedly I had never been a Nolan fan so when his face showed up on the television I usually changed the channel in alarming speed. What I knew of Nolan was not positive. He was known for crass affairs, destructive behavior, and over the top personality. By over the top personality I meant of course that he was a huge jerk, and also wildly loved by the ladies. He seemed to just brush the celebrity gossip off his shoulder, typically laughing or flipping off the press. I read an article once while waiting for my dentist appoint, a reporter had asked if the rumors of his affair with a very wealthy married actress were true he'd actually laughed and said "Well no but if she'd like to make them true she has my number." Arrogant prìck.
"Four." I said without thinking and returned my attention to my interview.
"We've tried the good influence thing on him too. He's run two drill sergeants out of the country." She said flatly.
In the background Nolan muttered "one, two, three, four." As he moved an origami fortune teller. I hadn't seen one of those since grade school.
"Well to Nolan's defense I wouldn't really appreciate a drill sergeant following me around and yelling in my ear 24/7 either." I tried lightly.
"A color." Nolan demanded.
"Yellow."
"Y-E-L-L-O-W."
"Nolan." My interviewer said in a tone that was nothing short of desperation.
"Now, blue, green, orange, or yellow?" He asked and finally looked up.
Our eyes connected and my blood ran cold. His dark eyes were so intense, so angry, so knowing. I suddenly felt all of two inches tall but I couldn't let it show. "Blue."
He began unfolding the fortune teller.
"Nolan is a good guy. Somewhere, deep inside. I'm sure. Very deep. I mean, I'm almost positive somewhere in there's he's okay...maybe..." She trailed off.
"Ouch, that one is gonna hurt." He muttered as he read my fortune.
"But he's not so easy to handle. We need someone who can keep him on a strict schedule, monitor his health, book arrangements. You will be on call literally every moment of every day and we'll expect you to be with, or know where Nolan is as well. It's not a job for the faint of heart."
Nolan smacked his notebook down on the table hard and she jumped. He was sitting like a normal person would now, leaning forward over the long table to be that small bit closer to me. "She's right you know. They think I'm completely daft."
"I'm sure you're not." I said though I had my doubts.
He studied me carefully and I felt my two inches cut in half. After a moment he scowled. "So what is it you want from me? You a fan? Got some friends who are? Want to start pawning some of my shìt on eBay?" He scribbled on the notebook a few times and ripped the paper off, he wrinkled it into a ball and threw it at me. "There, there's your autograph now get the fúck out."
"I don't want your autograph, and from what I understand you don't have any shit to sell, you break it all." I said and swatted the crinkled sheet away. "My being here has nothing to do with you, it's because I need a job."
"Hell woman, you aren't all there are you? It has everything to do with me. I am your job." He said in a cold, threatening tone.
"I think this is enough." The poor woman piped in. "You have a quite impressive resume, really, but that's why I don't want to put your through this."
"I'm sorry did you just question my mental capacities? I'll have you know I graduated at the top of my class."
"Fascinating." He replied flatly. "Maybe I can write a song about that. Spoiled rich kid gets good grades and wants awards. Definitely a best seller."
"Oh my...you are really something. You've got some nerve!"
"Thank you Miss Reid for your time and interest in the job." The interviewer tried and gave Nolan a dirty look.
"No, having some nerve would be telling you that you look constipated. Which, by the way you do. Tell me Miss Reid how far up your ass is that stick?"
I laughed coolly. "If constipation is the worst of my problems I'd say I'm doing a hell of a lot better than you are." He narrowed his eyes. "I know what you're trying to do here. Scare everyone away so you can run free like the wild little pup you are, huh? Not even your fans can stand to be around you."
"No. They couldn't stand after the pounding I gave them." He said and added a wink. "Just couldn't handle the heart break when the next night I wanted someone new to lay into."
I rolled my eyes. "Oh, the millionaire rock star gets laid. Why don't you write a song about that? Oh wait, you can't write anything yourself these days, can you." I'd clearly hit a nerve. He leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms over his chest sizing me up again.
I did a poor job of masking my own shock. I wasn't the type of person to snap at people or put someone down. Nolan was in some sort of creative slump and I'd rubbed his nose in it in such a rude way. I was half tempted to apologize but he rolled his eyes and instantaneously I was ready for round two.
"If you were going to come in and completely waste my time you could have at least undone a button or two." He motioned towards my chest. "Give me a little something to look at while you bored me to death." I was fuming, the color rose immediately to my cheeks.
"Nolan James." The girl hissed.
He rolled his eyes and kicked his feet up onto the table again.
"Like I said." She tried again to speak to me, composure obviously knocked down a few pegs. "Nolan is difficult."
"Clinically depressed they say I am. I say I'm just bored, but nobody gives a shít what I say." His gaze finally pulled from mine to give her a death glare, she didn't grant him the satisfaction of glancing in his direction.
"Oh, you need to talk about it?" I cooed sarcastically. The fact that only minutes ago this was supposed to be an interview had long since left my mind. I wasn't getting the job, and even if he got on his hands and knees and begged me, after dealing with him for all of five minutes I knew I wouldn't ever be able to stand a tour with him! "How about we devote five minutes at the start of everyday to talk about our feeeeelings" I teased.
For the first time I saw the corners of his lips twitch upwards, nowhere near a smile, and not quite a smirk, but it was more than the cold hard glare I'd been getting before. "Is that a promise?"
I rolled my eyes. "Yeah sure whatever." I muttered and pushed the chair backwards and it scraped loudly across the floor. I couldn't believe I had just lost my cool like that! I was never like this, it was beyond important for my family to keep our cool. We had an image to uphold and had spent years upon years of being perfect little well mannered high classed productive citizen. But..but...but this man was insatiable! "Thank you for considering me." I said halfheartedly to the woman interviewing me.
I had just reached the door when he sounded again. "You're hired."
I laughed my way out of the office.
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Heyyy readers! And welcome to heavy wears the crown!
If you'll kindly look to the media for this chapter you will see a collage of four potential covers, if you'd like to weigh in on which is your favorite please do leave a comment letting me know which YOU think will bet represent the novel (: I'm so flipping indecisive I've made four and now can't decide which I like the most and want to use!
Please do remember as you read to take the time to vote and to comment and above all else enjoy the novel! (:
Dedicated to @sienna99 for the song suggestion! (: