The Beautiful Ones

“Hired?” Cassandra repeated, feeling a little bit dizzy. Criss nodded.

“I think we can make it work.”

“Thank you,” she smiled at him, and he tried to ignore the way it made her face light up. Hammie gave him a glance, clearly of approval. She stood up, her shoes squishing from the dampness they had absorbed.
“So I start Monday?”

“Oh no,” Criss shook his head. “You start today. You start right now.”

**

Right now? He wanted her to start right now. She blinked and looked down at her drenched state. Criss sighed.

“Normally, I’d have my assistant bring you a towel. But since that’s you, I think there’s a problem there. Wait a second,” he disappeared briefly, bringing her back a fluffy towel.
“Dry off,”

She wiped her face and reached up to free her hair from the pins that were now just for show. She rubbed her hair and then lifted her head at him expectantly.

“I don’t expect much from you today. I really just need you to lick some stamps.” He pointed to table full of correspondence. Cassandra’s eyes went wide. This was going to take hours.

But it was a job. It was money. Money was what was important here. With a sigh, she resigned herself and parked it at the table with the book of stamps Criss had given her. He sat at his desk and flicked on the computer, smirking at the way the back of her neck was turning red.

And here she thought he was going to leave her alone. But you found out the most about people when they were in stressful situations like this. Her movements were small and somewhat tight as she licked stamps and affixed them to the corners of the envelopes.

Suddenly, he wanted to make small talk. She was clearly scared, and he wanted to put her at ease. Criss was always determined that no one on his staff should ever be afraid of him. He was the boss, but he wasn’t The Boss. As long as they did what he needed them to, this job would be fun.

“So, where did you say you were from, Cassandra?”

“Um, well, Michigan.” She stammered. “I lived there my whole. A really small town.” Her smile was anxious, and he returned a warm one.
”Are you Googling me?”

“What! No!” quickly, he clicked the ‘x’ button in the corner of her screen. He had been looking for her Myspace, but with his luck she had it on private. She seemed like one of those girls. Google did tell him the name of her high school, though.

She chuckled a little and licked another stamp. She moved faster now, more efficiently. It wasn’t long before she was done, her clothes dried stiffly to her body.

“So I’m supposed to come in tomorrow, right?

“Yes. Nine AM sharp. Don’t be late. And Cassandra?” he leaned back in the chair, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Yes, sir?” she stopped, in the middle of making her way to the door.

“Don’t wear tennis shoes to a job interview.” She turned bright red and nodded before walking outside.