“Well, to get this far, they all have what it takes, but let’s see who interviews the best.” I take out the intern-interview file. Every year we take just one on in the management level. It’s the opportunity of a lifetime. Kids travel across the States to be taken under our wing. All our past kids have gone on to great success, and most of them are in managerial positions. “To be honest I haven’t even had time to go through any of the interview notes,” I admit.
“That’s okay.” Sammia smiles. “It’s not like it’s your first rodeo.”
I chuckle. “Send the first one in.”
“Okay.”
I open the file and take out the relevant questions that I need to ask. I ready my notepad and pen.
A light knock sounds at the door.
“Come in.”
The door opens, and I glance up. My face falls.
It’s him.
The underpants attacker. Our mouths fall open in shock at the same time.
“You’re . . . Tristan Miles?” he gasps, horrified.
“Are you kidding me?” I snap. “I can’t even fucking walk because of you, and now you turn up here looking for a damn job?”
“Trust me. I didn’t know it was you,” he snaps back.
“Or you wouldn’t have attacked me?” I gasp.
“No, I would have still attacked you; I wouldn’t have come today.”
I throw my head back in disgust. “Are you kidding me?”
He folds his arms and narrows his eyes. “So . . . you were lying.”
“About what?”
“You don’t know my mother from work at all.”
“Yes, I do, and why the hell are we talking about your mother now?”
“Why did you come to my house to see her? Why didn’t you just see her at her office?”
“First of all . . .” I point to the chair. “Sit down,” I snap as I grab my crutches and move them out of his way. He falls into his seat. “Second of all, last time I looked, it’s your mother’s house. And thirdly, it’s none of your business why I wanted to talk to her. My ankle is completely fucked, by the way; thank you for asking.”
He smirks.
“You think this is funny?”
“No, I think you’re a lying jerk. They were totally your underpants, and you can stick your job up your entitled ass. I don’t want it anyway.”
I shake my head. Why am I not surprised by his attitude? “I will.”
We glare at each other.
“Don’t tell my mom that I came here today.”
I frown. “She doesn’t know?”
“No, and I would appreciate it if she didn’t find out.”