1.New Job

It was Monday morning, 9:00 AM. In his cramped apartment, Mike moved with a frantic energy, his hands fumbling as he tried to button a crisp white shirt. He needed to land this interview at any cost. It had been three months since he’d traded the familiar heat of Texas for the relentless pace of New York City, and so far, the "City of Dreams" had been a nightmare of mismatched job descriptions, insulting pay scales, and underwhelming company cultures.

Glancing at the wall clock, Mike let out a sharp exhale. "Shit! I have to skip breakfast or I’m going to be late."

Across the room, his roommate, Jeff, stirred lazily. Still half-submerged in sleep, Jeff peered over the edge of his duvet. "Just check G****e Maps, bro," he murmured. "Why are you so tense?"

Mike grabbed his phone, his thumb hovering over the screen. His face fell. "Damn, the whole route is deep red. I’m going to be late."

"Don’t you think you should’ve skipped that movie last night and gone to bed early?" Jeff asked, his voice muffled by his pillow.

"I’m already late, Jeff. I’m not in the mood for your bullshit," Mike snapped, tossing a decorative pillow at his roommate’s head.

He strapped on his black wristwatch, pulled a pair of polished shoes from the rack, and took one final look in the mirror. With his white shirt tucked into sharp black slacks and a leather belt cinching the look together, he looked the part. Perfect, he thought, before rushing out the door.

An IT consultant who had graduated only a year prior, Mike had left a stable but dull position in Texas to pursue something greater. Now, sitting in the back of a cab, he watched the minutes tick away.

"Broadway and 8th Avenue," he told the driver, his voice tight.

The traffic was a gridlocked sea of yellow and red. Desperate, Mike pulled out his phone again, searching for an alternative. "Hey, there’s a shortcut here," he said, leaning forward to show the driver. "Take this route instead."

The driver gave a hesitant nod and veered away from the main artery, steering the car onto a narrow, deserted road lined with thick trees. The silence of the side street was eerie compared to the chaos of the city.

"Sir, are you sure about this?" the driver asked, glancing nervously at the GPS.

"Yes, this is what the map says. It should be right," Mike replied, though his own confidence was wavering.

A few minutes into the detour, they spotted a car pulled over on the shoulder. A woman stood beside it, looking visibly annoyed as she kicked a flat tire with a frustrated sigh. When she saw the cab approaching, she waved her arms frantically.

Mike signaled the driver to stop and rolled down the window.

"Hi, I’m Catherine," she said, leaning toward the car. Her professional attire—a pink pencil skirt, a white jacket, and high heels—seemed at odds with the dusty road. She was striking, with silky brown hair framing an oval face and piercing blue eyes. "My car won't start and I have a flat. I have an urgent meeting at my office. Can you please give me a lift?"

She’s drop-dead gorgeous, Mike thought, momentarily distracted from his own panic.

"Sure, why not?" Mike said. "But I’m in a rush too. Where are you headed?"

"Broadway and 8th Avenue," she replied.

Mike blinked in surprise. "What a coincidence. I’m going to the exact same place. Hop in."

As the cab pulled away, Catherine settled into the seat. "So, do you work at 8th Avenue?" she asked, initiating the conversation.

"Actually, I'm heading there for an interview," Mike replied politely. "What about you?"

"It’s my office," she said casually.

"Great," Mike said, feeling a spark of optimism. "I’m Michael, by the way. Most people call me Mike. What do you do there, Catherine?"

"I’m in Public Relations for XYZ Company."

"Wow, PR and media. That sounds pretty glamorous," Mike said.

Catherine offered a small, knowing smile. "It’s not always as exciting as it looks. What about you? What’s the role?"

"I'm interviewing for a software developer position in the technical department," Mike explained.

"Oh, wow. Well, best of luck," she said. "The company is fantastic. They pay well, the benefits are solid, and the social scene is incredible—lots of celebrity events and networking."

Mike nodded, though his priorities were simpler. He was a shy guy by nature; he didn't care much for parties. He just needed the paycheck to cover his rent and the rising costs of city living. Still, the way she spoke about the company made him want the job even more.

When the cab finally pulled up to a massive glass skyscraper topped with the "XYZ Corporates" logo, Catherine reached for her purse. "How much do I owe you for the fare?"

"Don't be silly," Mike insisted. "I was coming here anyway. It’s no big deal."

"Okay," she smiled, stepping out onto the sidewalk. "Then I think I owe you a coffee later."

"If I get the job, I’ll definitely take you up on that," Mike said with a grin.

Inside, the lobby was a masterpiece of modern design—artificial vertical gardens, sleek couches, and mirrors where employees were busy snapping selfies. They walked toward the elevators together. Mike pressed the button for the 8th floor—HR—while Catherine pressed the 6th.

"I guess the PR department is on a different floor," Mike noted.

"Yes, we're tucked away on six," she said as the doors slid open. "But we all share the same cafeteria. I'll see you around, Mike. Good luck!"

She gave him a final wave as she stepped out. Mike watched the doors close, his heart racing. He was minutes away from the interview that could change everything. But as the elevator climbed toward the 8th floor, he couldn't help but wonder: was Catherine just a lucky coincidence, or was there more to her role at XYZ than she let on?